“What?” I ask.

“Your reflections.”

I shrug, thinking back to how normal and great everything was until a few months ago. “I think about the painful ones the most. They’re the ones I still need to let go of.”

He smiles sympathetically. “I think we all have a few of those we’re carrying around.”

“How do you know it’s okay?”

“When you can still live with it on your back.” He’s right, because if we can handle it, it’s not too much. The space between us closes again as we continue to move to the music. “What’s your favorite band?” he asks.

“That’s easy. Coldplay. Yours?”

“Chopin and Horowitz are more my speed.”

The song switches as I press my cheek to his chest. The wine and my lack of sleep have brought me to this state where all I want to do is pull on a pair of comfy sweats and crawl into my nice, warm bed. Being with Pierce, like this, is just as good.

“Do you know what my favorite part of tonight is going to be when it’s all over?” he asks.

“Hmm?”

He hesitates for just a second. “Being here . . . like this with you.”

“Why do you say that?”

He slides his hand up my back, then down again. “There’s just something about you. Something I’ve been thinking about since I sat next to you on the plane.”

“I need to ask you something, and I need you to answer honestly,” I say, feeling the familiar nerves creep back up.

“It’s the only way I know how to be.”

“Did you offer me this job because I had the skills or because you wanted to be like this?” I close my eyes . . . waiting. I’ve been second-guessing myself since I started at Stanley Development, and I hate it.

His grip on my hand tightens. “A little of both. It takes ambition to risk a move to the big city, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have my own selfish reasons. I kind of like you, Lila.”

My eyes widen as my heart bottoms out. I shouldn’t be here. As soon as he says those words, I think about paint, tequila, and kitchen counters. I think about my blond artist—the man I’ve never had, but yet lost tonight.

That’s what I’ll always think back on.

THE MUSIC STOPS AT JUST the right moment, when this doesn’t feel right anymore.

“Please take your seats. The first course will be served shortly,” a female voice sounds over the loud speaker. Inner panic momentarily paralyzes me.

Pierce loosens his grip enough for me to step away. When he looks at me, I think he knows my mood has shifted. The wine and the dance—they aren’t enough to banish the heartbreak from earlier. I’m not ready for this.

“Are you okay?” he asks, grabbing hold of my elbow.

I shake my head, searching for the right words. A reason to escape from here. “Can you take me home? I’m not feeling well.”

His brow wrinkles. “Is it something I said?”

“No,” I answer quietly, wishing I could simply fold myself back in his arms . . . and everything would be okay.

“What’s going on?”

“I have a headache.” My voice is meek, lacking assurance.

Pierce is at a loss for words, looking down then away. This room is filled with hundreds of people, but it feels like it’s just us. Two people at a crossroads. He’s not convinced, but I’m not either. Trying to crawl back into Blake’s bed will more than likely end with me suffering from more than a bended heart. And Pierce continually crosses the professional line. What he’s trying to accomplish, what he sees in me . . . I have no idea.

I can’t stay.

Yet, I feel like I shouldn’t go.

Life is one big tangled mess after another.

“Let’s get you home then,” he finally concedes. He steers us away from the dance floor, through a side door, and out into a quiet hallway. He pulls out his cell phone and makes a quick call to have the car come pick us up.

After it’s tucked back into his pocket, he envelops my hand in his and leads us through a pair of swinging doors. A huge kitchen full of staff in black chefs’ coats appears, and without seeking permission, Pierce ushers me through it. The staff barely blink an eye, like this happens all the time.

“Where are we going?” I ask, walking faster to keep up. That’s not an easy feat in heels.

“Back door.”

There’s a metal door that leads to a dark alleyway. The black Escalade pulls up just in time to rescue us from the cold. Pierce pulls the door open, letting me climb in first. He follows.

“Can I at least take you for a quick bite? I’m not one to send a girl home hungry.”

“No, I just want to get home.”

Silence ensues. I count the minutes, trying to remember how long it took us to get here . . . how long it will take to get back home.

“How much do you know about him?” Pierces asks. Him doesn’t require any clarification. His sense of perception is really starting to get under my skin.

“Enough.”

“What if I told you to stay away from him?”

“I’d ask you to give me a good reason.”

More silence. That seems to be the theme for tonight—a teeter-totter between conversation and nothing at all.

I watch out the window as we speed down city streets. Downtown slowly turns into the more residential area where I live. Seeing familiar houses and street signs calms me . . . just a couple more minutes until I can put this all behind me.

When we finally pull onto my street, I sit up straight, ready to make my escape. “I’m really sorry about tonight, Pierce.”

“I’ll let you make it up to me sometime. I think you owe me dinner.”

To that, I can only smile. Maybe I do owe him something, but some debts are never paid.

The car comes to a stop in front of my building. I contemplate opening my door and hurrying out to avoid any more conversation, but Pierce opens his first. “At least let me walk you to your door.”

I nod, sliding across the seat. The driver’s waiting for me, coat in hand. “Here you are, Ms. Fields.”

“Thank you,” I reply, slipping my arms into it.

As soon as it’s on, he disappears inside the car, leaving Pierce and I alone. The only thing that separates me from home is about ten feet of sidewalk; it seems much longer now than it ever did before. Pierce’s hand splays against my lower back like it has several other times tonight, startling me. “If it’s any consolation, I had a good time with you tonight.”

“So did I.”

“Hmm, I hate to see your version of a bad date.”

I laugh. “Guy takes you to an expensive restaurant, leaves you paying for dinner. Or better yet, he talks about his ex the entire time, audibly comparing you to her.”

“Damn. You must have dated some winners.”

He’s doing that thing he does again—making me forget. It’s just a little too late because we’re standing in front of my door—the only thing that separates me from the guy who holds a piece of my heart in his hands.

Pierce surprises me, cradling my cool cheeks in his warm hands. “For the record, I’d never leave you with the bill, and there’s no comparison to make between you and my past.”

“That’s good to know,” I reply, chewing on my lower lip. The way he stares down at me makes me uncomfortable. It reminds me of a defining moment in the movies . . . before a kiss. “I should get inside.”

“Remember what I told you about staying away from him,” he says quietly, rubbing his thumb along my cheek. He reads the undying question in my eyes. “And if that’s not enough for you, ask him about Alyssa.” There’s undeniable pain in his voice when he says the name.

“Who?”

He kisses my cheek. “I’m going to leave it up to him to tell you.”

I nod, feeling a sting in my chest. What if there’s someone else? What if that’s where he disappears to? It’s been a doubt that’s lingered for far too long already, and Pierce just planted a seed to make it grow.

“Good night,” he says as he lets go of me.