Page 68 of Always Love You More

Chapter 19

Sam

Levi’sknifescrapesloudlyagainst his plate as he cuts into his piece of chicken. Jameson’s mother watches me, waiting for me to follow suit.

I take a bite and smile at her, trying not to make a bad impression. “This is really good, thank you.”

Her painted lips tip up as she pushes the peas around her plate. “I’m glad you like it.” She reaches for the drink in front of her, a low glass with clear liquid and way too many olives. “So,” she says, “how long have you and Jameson been together?” She looks over at him, her expression pinching. “Apparently, he never tells me anything.”

I clear my throat. “It’s new.”

She hums in response.

“We’ve just been friends,” Jameson cuts in. “Until today.”

“You looked like a lot more than friends last night,” Levi counters.

His mother looks between us, realizing she’s missing something. “Last night?”

“At his fight,” Levi clarifies.

“You were at his fight?” she asks me, and I nod.

Turning back to Levi, she says, “But you told me women aren’t allowed to go.”

Women aren’t allowed to go? There were plenty of women there.

“It’s no place for a woman,” he answers dismissively before pinning me with a stare. “Just like it wasn’t your place to get between me and my son.”

I refuse to apologize, so I say nothing.

Jameson shifts in his seat beside me, and his mother catches the movement, noticing the tension in the air. Her gaze lingers on his face. “Did you lose?”

“No.”

She looks between him and Levi. “Then what?”

Levi leans forward. “He—”

The sound of ringing cuts him off.

He slides a phone out of his pocket, placing it against his ear. He listens for a few seconds before snapping his fingers and pointing at the table. Jameson gets up, coming back a minute later with a piece of paper and a pen.

“Repeat that,” Levi says. “Uh-huh,” he mutters as he scribbles an address onto the paper. “Ten o’clock, sure.” He nods to himself. “Yeah, see you then.” After hanging up, he slides the phone back into his pocket.

“Everything good?” Jameson asks.

Levi digs into his mashed potatoes. “Great,” he mutters, a warning in his tone.

His mother swirls her drink, moving her attention back to me and Jameson. “So, you two met at the shop then?”

I can’t tell if she’s ignoring Levi’s growing irritation or trying to distract from it.

“Yeah,” I answer. “I work the front desk.”

“How’d you end up with that job?”

“My brother he—”