I hope it’s still real when I wake up in the morning.

THINGS DON’T ALWAYS GO as planned. I should know that better than anyone.

Pierce’s car waits in front of the building as the Trans Am pulls up. If a million scenarios flashed through my mind for how this would all end, it wouldn’t be like this. This is not how I wanted him to find out. It’s all happening too fast.

Blake grabs my arm as I reach for the handle. “I’m coming with you. There’s no way I’m leaving you here alone with him.”

“No. I need to do this … I owe it to him.”

He doesn’t let go, and I spot Pierce walking toward the car out of the corner of my eye. Tiny little spots impede my vision. My hands go numb.

“Please, Blake. I’ll call you after he leaves,” I promise. Blake is fuel. Pierce is a match. I’m not letting myself get caught in the fire.

“I don’t trust him.”

“You don’t have to. Just trust me.”

I practically see the wheels turning in his head before he loosens his grip. “If I don’t hear from you in the next hour, I’m coming back.”

Without another word, I step out onto the curb just as Pierce reaches the car. Blake revs the engine, speeding down the street before he can witness anything that follows. This is the most awkward place to be. I kind of understand why some choose to just run. It’s the coward’s way out, but it’s so much easier.

One look at me—the paint that covers my clothes—and the look on Pierce’s face tells me he knows something isn’t right. I’ve never ended things with anyone before, and I’m going to start with a man who didn’t even do me wrong.

A man who helped me out of some of my darkest times.

A man I love.

“We need to talk.” My voice shakes as the words tumble out.

He glances up at the night’s sky then back to me. “Where?”

“Not here. Let’s go upstairs.”

He follows me in silence, his shoes hitting the steps in the same rhythm as mine. The hallway seems too short, and my hand shakes uncontrollably as I attempt to unlock the door.

“Here,” he says, taking the key from between my fingers.

It opens too easily. I walk in first, setting my bag on the counter and slipping my sandals off. I do everything possible to give myself an excuse not to look back. He has to have an idea of what’s to come; the air around us has completely changed from what it was earlier today.

My mind is so foggy that scripting what I want to say is impossible. Predicting how he might react is even harder. If I could just have one more night, I think to myself.

“Are you going to start talking?”

I turn to him, my lips part, but nothing works its way out. There’s no way to do this without hurting him. The last thing I want to do is hurt him.

“Lila,” he begs, shaking my shoulders. “You’re scaring the hell out of me. Say something.”

“It’s him,” I whisper, my eyes misting over.

“What did he do?”

I shake my head, the first tear carving a path down my cheek. Knowing what my heart wants doesn’t make this any easier. “I love him. I tried to convince myself I’d fallen out of it, but he’s the one.”

He steps back, hands falling away from me. “What are you saying?”

“Do you really want to hear it?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“I love you, but I love him more. I love him differently.”

His fingers tug at his hair as I watch his face turn red. “He left you.”

“And he came back.”

He lowers his head, rubbing his hand along the back of his neck. “He’ll do it again. You don’t know him like I do.”

“That’s the thing, Pierce. I know he could leave again tomorrow or the next day, and I’m willing to take that chance. And you don’t know him like I do.”

He’s silent, and there’s not much more I can say.

“Have you thought this through?” he asks. “Because it didn’t seem to be on your mind this afternoon.”

There’s the proverbial knife to my heart.

Pierce became my everything because I convinced myself for a few short months that Blake wasn’t. There are a bunch of what ifs. What if I’d never moved to Chicago? What if Blake had never left? What if he’d never come back? What if he hadn’t forced me to see him the way he sees me?

That’s all life is—a series of what ifs. There’s not a fork in the road … there’s a whole freaking maze of silverware.

With two steps, he is standing right in front of me lifting my chin until our eyes are level. “Did you sleep with him?”

I shake my head vehemently until his hand falls away. “No, I’d never do that to you. We kissed, but that was as far as I let it go. I was going to talk to you tomorrow. I—”

He interrupts. “Think about it overnight. Don’t do anything you’re going to regret when you wake up in the morning.”

“That’s the thing, Pierce. My thoughts may change, but my feelings won’t. You deserve someone who can give all of herself to you … someone who’ll love only you.”

Walking past me, he peers out the window, hands tucked deep in his suit pockets. “This is partially my fault.”

“Why do you say that?” I ask, staring at his back. I wonder if he can see my reflection in the window … the tears rolling down my cheeks.

“I knew you weren’t ready, but I pushed you anyway. You can’t blame a guy for wanting a chance.”

I cautiously walk toward him. “I didn’t do anything I didn’t want to,” I answer, hoping it’ll erase his guilt. I couldn’t have predicted things would work out the way they did. I didn’t even love Derek the way I love Blake.

“What about work?” he asks.

“I hadn’t even thought about it. I’ll put my resignation on your desk tomorrow if you’d prefer it.”

He finally turns back around. “That’s not what I want.”

“Are you sure?” I ask, nervously rubbing my fingers together.

He nods, closing the distance between us. “Yeah, I’m going to be out of town the rest of the week, so that will give us both time to adjust. We’re scheduled back in New York in a few weeks, and I need you there for that.”

“I just want you to be okay,” I whisper, doing everything I can to hold myself together. He’s too good of a man to have ever gotten mixed up with me.

His hands cradle my face as he leans in to kiss my forehead. I close my eyes as his lips linger there, tears streaming. “Loss isn’t something that’s new to me. It may not be tomorrow, but I’ll be okay.”

“I’m sorry,” I repeat over and over again.

“I should have asked you to dinner the night we met.”

The knife he’d already lodged twists. I’m not the only one with what ifs. Something tells me I’ll always be one of his.

“I should get going so you can get some rest. I have an early flight to catch in the morning.”

I nod, wondering if the trip was planned before he got here, or if it’s just his way of running away.

He starts toward the door.

“Hey,” I say, pulling his attention back to me. “Why did you stop by tonight?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” he says reaching for the door.

“I was just curious.”

There’s a pause. I practically hear him thinking from across the room. Then, in a moment I’ll never forget, he pulls a little black box from his pocket holding it in the air without looking back. “You’re my Blake.”

Disbelief and sadness render me speechless as I watch him walk out my door for what will probably be the last time.

Falling to the floor, I fold my arms over my legs, resting my forehead on my knees. If I didn’t get this one right, I’ll regret it every second for the rest of my life. Every. Last. Second.

Time passes as I let the tears fall. I relive the memories. I thought having Blake back would make it a little easier, but it doesn’t. I hurt someone I love, and what’s to come after doesn’t matter so much right now.

When I’m too tired to cry, I finally pull my phone from my purse.