Page 302 of The Havenport Collection

Gio

S am was beaming. The happiness was shining all over her face, and my heart soared.

She posed for photos with her mom and several Havenport friends, including Yael who had also shaved her head tonight.

The past few weeks had been tough, and Sam had been suffering so much. I wanted this night to be perfect. I wanted her to see how much she was loved and supported by this community.

And by the looks of her smile, she did. Because Havenport really turned out for Sam.

The brewery was full, including the outdoor patio, and people stayed all night, dancing and drinking.

The auction, which had been Nora’s idea, had raised several thousand dollars, far more than we ever could have imagined.

And Sam was glowing. She looked sexy with her shaved head, and I could tell she was standing up a little straighter. Her surgery was soon, and I knew how scared she was, but I had faith in her.

“Stop staring at her.” Nora elbowed me and handed me a beer. “Don’t be a creep. You did good tonight. Let her come to you.”

I took a sip. “I’m ignoring you.”

“No, you’re not. You are going to commend my amazing auctioneer abilities and tell me this idea was beyond genius.”

I turned and looked at her, my baby sister and the persistent, yet loving thorn in my side. “Thank you, Nora. You did something amazing tonight.”

She threw her arms around me, almost spilling my beer. “You are so welcome. I did it for Sam. But I wanted to make you proud.”

“I’m always proud,” I mumbled into her hair.

She broke the hug and punched me in the shoulder. “Go get your girl. I gotta find Luke so he can take me home and ravage me.”

“Ewwww.” I cringed. Nora loved to torture us by talking about Luke. I had just accepted the fact that my baby sister was dating the town’s resident billionaire; I didn’t need to know the gory details.

“But seriously, go talk to her. Tell her .” She raised an eyebrow and I studied my beer. Things with Sam had finally gone back to normal. It had taken a few awkward weeks, but our friendship had been restored.

And I couldn’t do that to her. She was about to have major surgery. I wasn’t going to dump my feelings all over her, no matter how strong they were. No matter how much it was killing me not to be able to love her like I wanted to.

I had told myself from day one that this was about Sam. I would give her whatever she wanted. And she didn’t want me like that. So I would be the kind of man she needed me to be and accept it.

A few days later, I took Xena for a long walk and came back to find Sam curled up on the couch, looking small and scared again. I sat down next to her.

“Tell me what you need, Sam. Tell me how I can help you.”

She went to push her hair behind her ears, but finding none, shrugged. “It’s silly.”

I took her hand. “Nothing is silly. Ask me anything.”

She seemed so nervous.

“Sam, I’m serious.”

She took a deep breath. “I was talking to Meghan, my mentor, and she mentioned women who are about to undergo mastectomies usually take photos…you know, of the before.” She trailed off and picked at her fingernails.

Recognition dawned in my brain, and I squeezed her hand. “I would be honored to take some photos of you.”

“It’s stupid…”

I tilted her chin up and met her gaze. “It is far from stupid. I think it’s perfect. I want to capture this, who you are right now.”

“I’m a mess right now.”

“Nope. I see strength, I see beauty, and I see someone who is struggling and growing. You should record this.”

She shifted uncomfortably. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to. Tell me what to do and how to do it. What will make you comfortable?”

She wiped a tear from her eye. “I want to do it; I’m just not sure if I can.”

I wanted to take her in my arms, kiss the hell out of her, and tell there was nothing on this earth she couldn’t do. But this was not the time or the place. I knew she needed this. To document what she was before things changed. And to be able to heal someday.

“How about this? I’ll take some photos, and I won’t show them to you. If you want to see them you can, or we can pretend this never happened and I’ll delete them.”

She looked up at me, her eyes filled with vulnerability. “You promise?”

I nodded, taking out my phone. “I am not a photographer, but you’re so gorgeous this won’t be difficult.”

“My makeup is a mess.”

“Stop. You look luminous. You don’t need anything. I want to capture your natural sexiness and how effortless it is.”

I walked her up to her bedroom and sat her down on the cognac leather armchair. She pushed one shoulder of her sweatshirt down, exposing her collarbone. I snapped some photos.

I played around with the lights, dragging a lamp from the guest room and putting it on the floor to create a soft glow.

“How about just your bra?” I asked softly.

She nodded, taking off her sweatshirt and throwing it on the bed. Her creamy skin looked beautiful against the leather chair and made her dark eyes shine.

“You look like a badass,” I said with awe. “Without your hair, I can see the power in your eyes, your soft, pillowy lips, and your gorgeous, long neck.”

She giggled and crossed her arms over her chest, clearly becoming more playful and comfortable.

“I have an idea.” I put the phone down and unbuttoned my flannel shirt, taking it off and handing it to her.

“Wear this and nothing else.” Her eyes got wide and she nodded, turning around so her back was to me as she took off her jeans, unclasped her bra, and shrugged on my shirt.

Finally, she turned around, wearing only panties and my shirt, open and just covering her nipples.

I bit my lip so hard I probably drew blood.

I ached to put my hands on her. To show her with my body just how incredible she was.

But I knew I had to control myself. She didn’t want to be ravaged; she wanted to be celebrated.

“Jesus Christ, Sam. I think I’m having a heart attack.”

She trailed her fingers down her stomach, letting the shirt fall open a few more centimeters as I snapped furiously with my phone. I could hear my pulse ringing in my ears, and my hands shook as I took the photos.

“You are so gorgeous.”

“Stop,” she protested. “I can’t believe I’m taking naked pictures.”

“You’re not naked. You’re tastefully disrobed. And I like it.”

She rolled her eyes at me.

“I mean it. Every inch of you is amazing. Your neck, the spot where your waist curves into your hip. The dimples on the small of your back. Your weird toe.”

She threw her head back and laughed as I captured the moment. “It is so weird, isn’t it?”

“It’s all you, Sam. Surgery will not change how sexy you are. Surgery will not change the essence of you.”

She walked toward me, reaching for my phone. “Let me see the photos.”

I raised it above my head. “Not yet. I’m still working.”

She jumped up, and I was momentarily distracted by her breasts. Damn, she did not play fair.

“Got it.” She scrolled through the photos, smiling at some and grimacing at others.

“This is ridiculous. I am a forty-year-old woman. I should not be doing this.”

I plucked the phone out of her hand and shooed her toward the bed. “Correction. You are a sexy-as-fuck forty-year-old woman who makes me hard every time she smiles in my direction.”

I watched as the blush spread across her face, neck, and chest. I continued to take photos.

“Take the shirt off,” I said. “Show me all of you.”

She nodded and slowly slid my shirt off her shoulders, looking away from the camera.

We were silent while I took as many photos as I could, adjusting the light and directing her into different poses where necessary.

It was intimate and vulnerable and heartbreaking.

She announced she was finished, then put my shirt back on and walked toward me.

“Thank you, Gio,” she said, throwing her arms around me.

I held her as she cried, and I tried to comfort her.

“I’m not sad,” she said, wiping the tears from her face. “I’m just so grateful to have a friend like you. You mean so much to me.”

I pulled her in close, savoring the moment.

I wanted to tell her—spill my guts and reveal that I was madly in love with her.

That being with her had surpassed every single dream I ever had.

That I didn’t care about her breasts or her hair or any of it.

I was in love with her. And that I wanted to be by her side for every minute—the good ones and the shitty ones—for the rest of my life.