I hated the look in her eyes, the pain in her voice. I’d been so afraid of hurting her, so concerned that I could, and would, break her. But now, seeing what it felt like, even in the smallest, most indirect way, I knew I would do everything in my power to never, ever cause her harm.

“We had plans to go to lunch. The dean encourages the faculty to get to know each other. She’s new this year, too, so she reached out to me. When you told me this was your only break in the day, I canceled with her.”

Her gaze was wary. “I thought you might be angry with me,” she said, and I knew she was thinking of the way we’d left things after the carnival.

I was a lot of things—confused, aroused, angry with myself, but never with her.

“If I were angry at every person who pointed out when I was being an idiot and a dick, I’d pretty much be pissed off at the world.”

A ghost of a smile played at her lips again. “I thought you were pissed off at the world.”

“I’m trying to be better. Someone told me I should get my head out of my ass.”

Another twitch. “I’m pretty sure those weren’t my exact words,” she murmured.

“Message was the same.”

“You could have just told me you had plans. You didn’t have to change them for me.”

There was no censure in her voice, no anger. She delivered the words matter-of-factly, as if we were both little more than two people working on a project together.

I gave her the truth, because as dangerous as it was, I couldn’t stand the uncertainty in her eyes.

“I didn’t change them for you. I changed them for me. I wanted to have lunch with you.”

Only you.

Danielle Larson was beautiful, intelligent, and genuinely a nice person to be around. And I wasn’t stupid. I knew she was interested, knew her invitation to have lunch wasn’t just about us as professors. She was a catch. But she wasn’t Blair.

“I’m not interested in Professor Larson. Not like that. She’s a friend, nothing more.”

We danced around the line again. I technically didn’t owe her an explanation; she wasn’t my girlfriend, we weren’t dating, and yet, the tie that bound us, the part of me that she held in her hands, that I hadn’t given to anyone but her, demanded an explanation.

“I’m not interested in anyone else.”

Only you. Even though I shouldn’t be. Even though you deserve more. Only you.

Blair’s voice was tight. “She’s an attorney, a law professor. Your age. She’s nice.”

“She is.” I took a deep breath, and then gave her the promise I couldn’t resist giving. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

She paled even more. “You don’t owe me anything. I know that—”

“Blair.”

Her mouth closed.

“I wouldn’t do that to you.”

I had no illusions about who I was, or the kind of things I’d done. I had some fucked-up mistakes in my past, and I still wasn’t sure I would ever be the man she deserved. But with the words that left my mouth, I knew.

Whatever this was between us, I only saw her. And until she broke the connection, until it died between us, there would only be her.

Blair nodded, the move shaky. She was usually so calm, so confident, but the look on her face reminded me that she was only twenty-three. And she’d been through a lot.

She broke eye contact and reached into her bag before she pulled something out and set it down on my desk.

I stared down at the brownie, wrapped in clear plastic from the cafe downstairs. I blinked. Stared back at her face.

“You bought me a brownie.”

She nodded, a slight flush on her cheeks.

Gutted me. Every time.

“Thank you.”

A soft smile played at her mouth that was at odds with the lingering sadness. “You’re welcome.”

She started talking about Thanksgiving, and I didn’t know if it was the way she pushed the sadness out and her eyes lit up, or the brownie in my hands, but either way, she wrapped me around her finger and pulled me close.

And I loved it.

Chapter Fifteen

Spotted: Blair Reynolds at Will Clayton’s election party celebrating with her sister, Jackie Gardner. Senator Reynolds might have put this election in the win column, but with his children noticeably absent, there are signs that his forces are weakening. He won the battle, but will he lose the war?

—Capital Confessions blog

Blair

I sat on the couch in the law school lobby, glaring at the ringing phone, willing her to stop calling. It had been almost a week since the election, and my voice mail was flooded with angry messages from my mother. I wasn’t sure what she was more pissed about: that I’d blown off my father’s event, or that I’d gone to Will’s and spent the night hanging out with Jackie. Or that it had shown up in Capital Confessions.

My phone lit up again, and I stifled a groan as I answered and succumbed to the inevitable.

“Hi, Mom.”

“I assume you’ve seen Capital Confessions.”

Trust my mother to jump right into political machinations. No Hi, how are you? for the Reynolds family.

“I have.”

Honestly, I was surprised by how much I’d been mentioned in Capital Confessions lately. My breakup with Thom had fed the site for a while, and then they’d focused on Jackie’s paternity, and I’d been casually mentioned in those posts. But now my name appeared on an almost weekly basis. Most of the mentions were tied to my father, but still. I figured at some point the media had to tire of me.

“How could you?”

I couldn’t pretend to be shocked. I’d known this moment was coming for a long time. There was a line in the sand between my parents and Jackie, and each time I crossed it, our relationship worsened.

I wished it didn’t have to be like this, that it wasn’t my sister or my parents. Wished my father was the kind of man who had included Jackie in our lives from the beginning. But there wasn’t anything I could do anymore. They’d made their choices, and I’d made mine, and I wasn’t going to keep apologizing.

“She’s my sister. I wanted to be there for her.”

My mother sucked in a deep breath as if I’d struck her through the phone.

“It sends a message you shouldn’t be sending,” she snapped.

I didn’t bother pointing out that my parents had held a press conference when the news of Jackie’s paternity broke, feeding the media some bullshit story about how we were all one big happy family. As though they both didn’t treat Jackie like she was a leper.

“She’s my sister,” I repeated, wondering how my mother knew so little about me to think that I would abandon Jackie. “I’m sorry that her existence hurts you. I’m sorry he cheated. What he did was so wrong, but even worse is how he doesn’t attempt to make amends. None of this is her fault, and yet she’s the one who bears the brunt of it.”

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Blair, but I’m tired of you acting out. You should be less concerned with that girl and more concerned with your family. You need to think about how your behavior reflects on the rest of us.”

That was all I had done. For years. I was over it.

“Why?”

“Because you have a duty to this family.”

There it was. The duty that was an albatross around my neck.

“It’s bad enough that you caused that scandal with Thom . . .”

“That scandal? That’s what you’re going to call my fiancé cheating on me? A scandal?”

How about some fucking sympathy? A hug. A kind word. Thom’s betrayal had been difficult enough without the added pressure my parents put on me.

“There was no need for your dramatics. When I think of the humiliation of all those people there, waiting for a wedding that never happened. Of your father, just months before the election . . . It’s bad enough, what we have to deal with from Kate. I expected better from you.”