“But you trust me?”

He looks back down at me. “Yes.”

“Then, you have nothing to worry about.”

After one last kiss, he watches me walk away and disappear inside the apartment building.

I’ve been honest with both men; my heart lies open on my sleeve now. It’s clear where I need to be even if it’s not always easy.

When I open the apartment door, Blake sits on the couch with a beer in his hand. It’s a familiar sight. “What did you do all weekend?” I ask, setting my bag on one of the dining room chairs.

“You’re looking at it,” he replies, his attention fixed on a basketball game.

“Have you eaten?”

He gestures toward the kitchen. “There’s leftover pizza and Chinese in the fridge. I went all out this weekend.”

I want to ask so badly how he’s doing, but I hold back. It goes over the line I’m trying not to cross.

“What are you doing tonight?” he asks, bringing his beer bottle to his lips.

I shrug. “I think I’m just going to read a book Reece gave me. It’s been a long week, and I just need to unwind.”

After a few seconds of silence, I walk away, bringing my overnight bag in the bedroom and changing into a pair of leggings and a t-shirt. I wash my face and put my glasses on, ready for a night of books, tea, and quiet. It really doesn’t get any better than that.

I’m six pages in when there’s a soft knock on my door; he doesn’t wait for me to answer before walking in. “What are you doing?” he asks. He walks toward me in gray athletic shorts and a white tank; it’s distracting, especially when you know what’s under them.

I glance at the cover of the book then look back up. “It looks like I’m reading.”

“Can we talk?” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck.

“About?”

He laughs nervously. “I just need to talk … to take my mind off the path it’s currently on.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. I can’t go anywhere too deep tonight, still feeling emotionally drained from the last week. Then an idea hits, and I smile. “Do you remember when we played Truth?”

He nods, a smile pulling at his lips. Those damn lips.

“Why don’t we play that?”

“I’ll grab the tequila.”

Before I can argue that tomorrow is a workday, he’s gone. I kind of forgot about the tequila part. He returns with a bottle of Jose, a shot glass and a bowl of lime slices. I’m screwed.

“Who gets to go first?” he asks, sitting on the other side of the bed.

“Me,” I answer. I have so many questions.

He nods, pouring the first shot of tequila.

“Where have you been the last few months?”

“I went to Europe like I said I was going to, but that only lasted a couple weeks. I was such a mess, so I ended up checking into a facility in California. I was there until just a few weeks ago.”

My gaze falls to the liquor bottle.

“My treatment had nothing to do with addiction,” he answers, running his finger across my white comforter. “I checked in for depression. It was ruining me.” He pauses, looking over at me with dark intensity in his eyes. “I realized I was losing everything good in my life—the things that still existed because I couldn’t let go of the things that didn’t.”

There he goes making me feel guilty about moving on again. I couldn’t wait forever, not when someone so perfect had waited long enough. “I’m happy for you … that you decided to get help, but I hope you did it for yourself, too.”

He smiles sadly. “After everything I’ve done, some days I’m all I have.”

“That’s not true,” I whisper.

He ignores it. “My turn. How did you come up with the design for the hotel? It’s fucking brilliant.”

Shit. This one won’t give me the opportunity to drink. I need a drink. “I worked on it day and night. It was all I felt like I had left for a while.”

“When did you and Pierce start fucking?”

“Don’t call it that, Blake, and you already used your question, so let’s move on.”

“I’ll drink, then you answer.” He squeezes the lime between his teeth then takes the shot.

This is going to go down worse than the tequila. “The night I saw you in New York.”

His face falls, but I try to ignore it. Sex isn’t something I take lightly. It’s not something I do for the sake of loneliness. There’s a reason I crossed that line with Pierce, and after I did, he meant even more to me. Blake was just a few hours too late.

“My turn,” I say, trying to get my head back in the game. “Did you know I was going to be on this project before you signed on?”

“It’s the only reason I took it. Wade’s an asshole.” Now, that’s a truth.

“Did you think … I mean, were you hoping there would still be a chance for us when you took it?” My voice shakes. The answer is written all over his face, but I want to hear it. I want to hear that he came back for me so I know everything I went through the last few months wasn’t for nothing.

“Drink,” he says. “That’s two questions.”

I skip the lime, letting the tequila burn a trail down my throat.

“Yes, and at the very least, I needed to find you and let you know how sorry I was. I never meant to hurt you, Lila. Ever.”

“I know. After thinking about it, I get why you did it. You can’t move forward with your life when the past still has you chained down. I’ve been there … not nearly as bad as you, but I’ve been there.”

He stares up at the ceiling for a few seconds before turning his attention back to me. “My turn. Do you think you’ll stay in Chicago or have you ever thought about going back home?”

“Why are you asking that?”

“It’s my turn to ask a question. That’s my question.”

“The thought crossed my mind, but I like my job and the friends I have here. It feels kind of like home, but it didn’t always feel that way.” I reflect on Charlie’s and the people I met there all the way to where I am today. There’s been days filled with regret, but overall, I’m happy to be here.

“You going to ask me a question, or do I have to drink another shot just to break the rules again?”

I slide down into the bed, pulling the blanket over my shoulder. “The painting you did the other day … what was it?”

He pours the tequila then glances over at me, downing it in one gulp. “There are some truths I can’t tell. You should know by now my truths are better categorized as secrets.”

“But it had something to do with her?”

He points to the bottle. I pour and drink.

“Yes,” he answers. “Months of intensive counseling wasn’t even enough to sort through all my shit, but at least I’m not ignoring it.”

I wish there were a star I could wish on to make his pain go away. Not even a wish on the largest constellation in the night sky could cure his heartache.

“If I had come home sooner, would I have had a chance?” he asks, sinking down in the bed until we’re eye to eye. He knows he’s making it impossible for me to skirt around the truth.

Eyes don’t easily lie to eyes.

“Yes,” I whisper. “I waited for you. Until New York, it would have been you.”

His fingers come up, gently brushing a piece of hair from my forehead. “I really fucked up with you, didn’t I?”

“Neither of us was in the right place. It wasn’t our time.”

He moves closer, brushing his thumb against my cheek. My conscience whispers but the tequila screams. “When will it be our time?”

I think about Pierce. This weekend. Everything. “It may never come, or maybe, it’s already passed.”

“I’m going to fight for you,” he declares, propping himself up on his elbow to look down at me. “I thought I could let you go if I knew it would make you happy, but after sitting alone in this apartment all weekend while you were with him, I don’t think I can do that.”

I swallow hard. “And, if you don’t win?”

“I’ve already lost, so what do I have left to lose?”

And, he’s right. He’s already lost so much that the risk is minimal.