I nod, breathing out.
He continues, “And as far as friendship goes . . . if that’s what you want, that’s what I’ll give you, but I’ll always want more.”
“I can’t give you that. Not now,” I say, shaking my head.
His thumb brushes my lips. “I know, but I’m not going to be able to watch you with him either. You deserve better.”
“And so do you,” I whisper. Pierce has so much to offer. If he found the right woman, he could show her the world and give it to her too.
He kisses me gently on the forehead before letting me go. “Love isn’t defined by what you deserve. It’s about finding that one person you know you can’t live without and never letting them go.”
He’s right, in a way. I’ve known lots of great guys who I classified as a woman’s dream—successful, kind, good-looking—but it didn’t equate to me falling at their feet.
“Get some sleep, Pierce,” I say, picking up my suitcase. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Take tomorrow off. You deserve it.” He winks, but the playfulness doesn’t show in his eyes. He looks tired and mentally worn. Not the powerful man I’m used to.
“You don’t have to do that. Besides, I don’t do well when I have too much time on my hands.”
“It’s up to you, but the offer stands.” He runs his long fingers through his hair. “I’m going to wait right here until you’re inside. Have a nice night, Lila.”
I step back, waving one last time before sticking my key in the lock. I feel him watching me but don’t look back. My heart aches enough from staring into his forlorn eyes just seconds ago. He tempted me last night, and I led him on—made him believe there was a chance at something that just can’t be. Not now.
After closing the door behind me, I notice the apartment is dark. Disappointed, I carry my luggage into my bedroom and rummage through my drawers for something more comfortable to wear. It’s going to be another night where I sit alone and wonder what I actually escaped by moving to Chicago. Two cities. The same problems.
I curl up in the center of my bed, wrapping the thick comforter around me. Blake’s absence shouldn’t bother me, but it does. I need closure. I need to know if I ever meant anything to him, or if he was just a waste of a broken heart.
I grab my cell phone from the nightstand and dial Mallory’s number, tapping my finger on my knee as I wait for her to answer. She’s my voice of reason—the sanity to my insanity. And maybe, she’ll have some answers.
“Hello,” she answers, sounding a little out of breath. I wonder what the weather is like there, if she’s out for a run.
“Hey, we haven’t talked in a while so I thought I’d give you a call to see how things are going.”
“That’s funny because I was thinking about calling you after the gym. It’s been crazy busy. I swear the tests here are ten times harder than they were at UCLA. I’m either in class or studying. How are you?”
“Not too bad. I quit Charlie’s the other day. Doing that and working at Stanley was getting to be a little too much. I actually just got back from New York an hour ago.”
There’s nothing but silence on the other end . . . rare Mallory silence.
“Are you there?” I ask after seconds have passed.
“Sorry, did you say you’re working at Stanley? As in Stanley Development?” She sounds a little panicked. I start to panic.
“Yes, they hired me for an apprenticeship.”
Another long pause. “You’re working with Pierce Stanley?”
“He hired me,” I say simply.
“Shit.”
Mallory never swears. Ever. “What?”
“Does Blake know?”
“Yes. What’s the matter, Mallory?” There’s so much I want to know about Pierce and Blake. Most importantly, why they hate each other so much.
“There’s a history between them.”
“I’ve already gathered that much, but why?”
She sighs. “There was so much heartbreak when it all happened . . . so much. You need to leave it alone.”
Begging.
Pleading.
I have no idea what to do next.
Then I remember what Pierce said. “Does it have something to do with Alyssa?”
“Who told you?” she asks, practically choking on her words.
“Pierce.”
She whimpers. “Oh God. Have you mentioned her to Blake? What did he say?”
The way she reacts makes me want to know even more. It’s worse than waiting to see what’s wrapped for me under the Christmas tree. “I haven’t mentioned it to him. Should I?”
“No!” she yells. “You know how much you hate it when I bring up Derek? How much you hated when people asked you about him after you broke up? This is the same type of situation. Sometimes the past just needs to be left alone.”
I close my eyes, allowing her reaction to soak in. Whatever happened was big. Big enough to leave deep, emotional wounds and cause an even deeper hatred between two men who I’ve become caught between. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” I finally say.
“It’s not your fault,” she concedes, letting out a heavy breath. “I just wasn’t expecting this. What are the chances you move to Chicago and run into the president of Blake’s hate club within a few weeks.”
“It’s just the kind of luck I have lately.”
“Can you do me a favor?” she asks.
“Anything.”
“Keep them away from each other, and whatever you do, do not mention Alyssa . . . not to Blake,” she pleads. Curiosity killed the cat. It’s going to kill Lila Fields too.
“I’ll do the best I can. I’ve learned that men aren’t as controllable as we’d like them to be.”
That brings a short laugh from her. “Truer words have never been spoken. What are you doing for Christmas?”
“I haven’t decided yet. I want to go home, but I don’t have the money to buy a plane ticket.”
“I guess we’re in the same boat. Worst-case scenario, we can have a Skype date.”
“Sounds like a plan, and there’s always A Christmas Story,” I say.
That brings back memories of our first year at UCLA. We thought a California Christmas would beat out the snow and cold, but when the holiday finally rolled around, we were both depressed and homesick. We stayed in our pajamas and cozied on the couch, watching A Christmas Story over and over again. It was the best and worst Christmas I’ve ever had.
“It’s a date.”
“Hey, Mallory, can I ask you one more thing?”
“Shoot.”
“Where does Blake go when he disappears? What does he do?”
“He paints. It’s his therapy. Is he gone now?” she asks.
“Yeah. He said he was leaving for a few days.” I run my fingers across the soft cotton comforter, remembering the time I spent in the studio.
“He’ll be back. Look, I should get going. I’m covered in a layer of sweat.”
I laugh. “You work out while I lay in bed and read a book. Some things never change. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Take care.”
Dread. It’s the only word that comes to mind as I walk into Stanley Development. It kept me up last night, rehearsing what I would say if Pierce wandered by my desk or called me to his office.
I’m not an actress, and this isn’t the school play.
I hide away in my little cubicle, doing my best to keep my mind occupied. He said nothing had changed for me at Stanley, but I’ve changed. How I feel about him . . . how I think whenever he’s around.
“Hey,” Reece says, coming around the corner. “Are you going to lunch?”
I finish shading the edge of my mood board and look up. “I’m not hungry.”
“You’re not getting by with that excuse today. Come on.” She picks up my purse and holds it out for me.
“Can we go to the little café down the street? I need some fresh air.”
“Are you going to fill me in on New York?” she asks.
I cringe; I should’ve guessed this was coming. “As much as we can cover in one hour.”