The Right Swipe (Modern Love, #1)(85)

“Then why?”

He squirmed, but he couldn’t get away from Aunt Belle’s probing gaze. “Because I don’t want to.”

“Interesting. Why?”

“Because.”

“Because why?” she persisted.

“Because they’ll leave me!” The words fell between them with the weight of a thousand broken hearts.

“Ahhhh.” Aunt Belle drew out the word. “There it is. You don’t expect love to last, do you? Everyone leaves you, eventually. And you’ve come to accept that they’ll all leave you, so you let them go before they get too close. Or, in this case, because she’s already close, you’re letting her go when you could fight for her.”

He laughed, but it sounded desperate. “That’s some psychoanalysis.”

His aunt lifted a shoulder. “I haven’t gotten this far with this many marriages under my belt without having a keen knowledge of human nature, darling. I am right.”

Was she?

Samson thought about how he’d tried to find Rhiannon back when he’d stood her up at the beach house, when she’d been Claire. Had he tried hard enough? Had he exhausted every resource? He’d craved Rhiannon enough to chase her down and talk to her and sleep with her, but hadn’t he freaked out a little with every vulnerability he’d revealed?

Annabelle swung her leg off the side of the bed. “Do you remember, last summer, when you took Joe to the brewery on the water?”

“Yeah.” Annabelle had sat at a nearby table, hungrily staring at Joe. A year or so ago, Joe’s Alzheimer’s had progressed to the point where he couldn’t readily recognize Annabelle. If she spent much time around him, he’d grow agitated. When she was in town, Samson had gone out of his way to get Joe in her vicinity, where she could at least see him.

“When you went to grab menus, I walked up to the table. I knew I couldn’t stand there long, or he’d start to wrack his brain over who I was and get upset with himself. So I asked if I could borrow the ketchup. Do you know what he said to me? He said, ‘Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?’” Her eyes sparkled with tears. “In that moment, I was nothing but grateful. Grateful to have another moment with him, even if he didn’t remember all the other moments we’d had together.”

“Don’t cry.” He grabbed a tissue from the box on his nightstand and offered it to her. She dabbed at the corners of her eyes.

“I’m grateful for these tears. I’m grateful I was vulnerable enough to love him. I’d do it all over again, even knowing I would lose him eventually. Your mother would have said the same about Aleki. You would say the same about all of them, wouldn’t you? Aren’t you grateful to have had as much time as you did with them?”

He pressed his lips together. “Yes.” Even with his complicated feelings about his father, he was grateful.

“Being vulnerable is a risk. Love—romantic, platonic, familial, it doesn’t matter what kind of love—is a risk.” She closed her eyes tight, tears leaking out. “Because you’re right. They can leave. They can die or be hurt or simply walk away.” Her eyes opened. “But a moment of that love, child, is worth it. If you have a second, a minute, a month, a year, a decade with that person? You count yourself lucky. You can use that love and the lessons it taught you to plant more seeds for love. You can live off that love for a lifetime. Are we clear?”

His chest hurt. He unclenched his fist, laying his palm flat on his leg. “Yes ma’am. We’re clear.”

“Call Rhiannon. She’s perfect for you. I knew it from the second you chased her out of the hotel—” She bit her lip, cutting herself off, but it was too late.

Samson slowly straightened. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Were you going to say, when I chased her out of the hotel ballroom?” At CREATE? When he’d spotted her standing in front of the stage?

“No. Of course not.”

His aunt was such a shitty liar. “You said you didn’t know who I was chasing, Aunt Belle.”

She winced. “I heard her say her name when I was spying in the ballroom, before you took the mic. When you described her, I realized who you were talking about.”

His eyes narrowed, a thought occurring to him. “Did you fake your fear the next day? To throw me and her together at the interview with Helena?”

“I have many real phobias.” She fiddled with her earring. “Perhaps I didn’t try to fight that fear too hard, though.”

“Aunt Belle!”

“I was trying to help you! And I didn’t think you’d go work with her or anything. That was all you. I wasn’t in the country, remember? I put you two face-to-face once. You took it from there.”

“Did that push include inviting her here? The whole house party? So you could meet her?”

“Um . . . I mean, I did want to seriously meet everyone interested in the company . . .”

“Oh my God.” He dropped his head in his hands. If you waited long enough, everything made sense. “The test. The Matchmaker quiz. I thought that was weird. You made everyone take it, so you could check on the match between the two of us.”

“Okay, that part is true.”

“Aunt. Belle.”