Page 39 of Campus Fake

This was Sam in her element, and this was the closest she’d been to the woman I knew in Montana since her brother showed up on our doorstep. The woman who remembered everyone’s coffee order, showed up at your door with food when you were sick, and ran her sorority’s philanthropy events with the same effortless warmth that made every person in the room feel like the most important one there.

She laughed again at something the woman next to her said, and her laugh had an ease to it that had been absent since we’d landed in Seattle.

God, I loved her laugh.

A little girl who was maybe four or five wandered over to our table. She’d clearly gotten separated from whoever brought her and was staring at the pile of stuffed animals on the table with wide eyes.

“Hey there,” Sam said, crouching down to the girl’s level. “You looking for something?”

The girl pointed at a stuffed elephant near the top of the pile.

“That one? Good choice.” Sam picked it up and held it out. “Elephants are the best. Did you know they’re one of the only animals that can recognize themselves in a mirror?”

The little girl took the elephant and hugged it against her chest. “What’s his name?”

“Well, that’s up to you. He’s yours now.”

“Peanut,” the girl said immediately, a bright smile lighting up her face.

Sam’s expression softened into something so unguarded that it made my chest tight. “Peanut is a perfect name.”

The girl’s mother appeared a moment later, apologizing and scooping her daughter up. Sam waved it off with a smile, but she stood there a moment, watching the mother and daughter smile at each other as the mother listened intently to her daughter telling her about the new elephant. Sam’s smile wavered as she watched before she looked down and smoothed her expression back to the happy, carefree one she’d been wearing most of the day.

She’d be an incredible mother someday. It wasn’t the first time I’d had the thought. It had been impossible to keep it away when I’d seen her love on Drew’s daughter. Sam carried an innate kindness and a huge heart filled with more love than she even gave herself credit for, and I had no doubt she’d love on her children with the fierceness of a lioness with her cubs. She’d be so warm and loving in a way I’d never experienced as a kid. The thought of her having kids with me was intoxicating, but it had no business being in my head when the woman in question was still pretending we hadn’t kissed yesterday.

We’d been at it for about an hour when Sally came over to the sorting station with another woman who appeared to be in her mid-forties with dark hair. They were mid-conversation about something on Sally’s clipboard when the woman’s gaze landed on Sam and her eyes widened.

“Oh, Sally, is this your Samantha? The resemblance is striking.”

Sally’s hand found Sam’s shoulder without missing a beat, like she’d been planning to introduce them all along. “It is. She’s home from Montana for the holidays. Sam, this is Melissa Cross. She runs the family services division for the county.”

The warmth in Sally’s voice was so convincing that if I hadn’t spent the last several days watching her freeze Sam out, I’d have believed it without question. It immediately put me on alert since this was the most attention she’d given Sam all day.

Sam’s whole body softened, and she looked at her mom with the faintest hint of awe, like she was surprised by the pride in her mom’s voice, but also eager for it. She looked at her mother like a kid who’d just been told maybe Christmas wasn’t canceled after all, and the hope on her face was so unguarded that I had to grip the edge of the table to keep myself steady.

Because I knew this wasn’t real. If there was one thing I’d recognized most about Sally Lowe, it was that she was a lot like my mom, and my mom would act any way she needed in public to save face.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Sam said to Melissa, extending her hand.

“And you,” Melissa said. “Your mother is a godsend to this community. We’d be lost without her. I can only imagine what a wonderful mother she is.”

Sally smiled like the sweet and gracious woman she was pretending to be—every inch the devoted mother and community leader. “Oh, Melissa, you are too kind.” Sally’s gaze moved to the other side of the room. “Oh, would you go over and help Mary Beth?”

Melissa glanced back to where Sally had looked and then touched Sally’s arm. “Of course. So nice meeting you, Samantha.”

And then she was gone.

And she took all of Sally’s warmth with her.

Sally’s hand slid off Sam’s shoulder, and she didn’t look at Sam as she scanned her clipboard. “I’ve got this station covered. Why don’t you go see if your dad needs any help with the boxes?” Her tone was back to being formal and stiff, and my jaw clenched as the now familiar tension returned to Sam’s shoulders.

“I can stay here,” Sam said. “I’m almost done with this batch and then I can help Melissa’s team with⁠—”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

Her tone wasn’t nearly as harsh as some of the other things she’d said and done to Sam, but it was dismissive, similar to how you might treat someone you barely knew, not your daughter.

Sam opened her mouth like she wanted to say something else, but then closed it. Hurt flashed across her eyes before she blinked it away.