If only the heart wanted what it should.

His voice cuts through the silence. “There’s this one place outside the park that I like to visit when the weather is nice. Will you come with me for lunch before we step foot into hell?”

I bite my lip, rolling it back and forth between my teeth. Pierce is like a wrapped piece of chocolate being set in front of me: once unwrapped, there’s no way I’m going to be able to resist.

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

He tilts his head, peering over at me. “How’s it any different than the lunch we had the other day?”

Because New York is our place, I think to myself. “Pierce—”

His index finger touches his lips, halting my words. “You think too much.”

“You don’t think enough.”

He laughs—deep and throaty. “Lila, if you had a thirty-second view into this head of mine, you’d get dizzy.” He pauses, his eyes dancing between mine. “Especially now.”

“This is exactly what I was talking about. We’ve teetered on this line before, and I can’t take another chance like that. Not now.”

“It’s just two people enjoying a meal together.”

“It was the same the last time we were in New York.”

He shakes his head. “You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

“Almost everything,” I quietly answer.

I don’t have an answer for Blake.

The plane lands smoothly, pulling up to a waiting black town car. If I do this ten or twenty more times, I might not require champagne to make it through. The driver pulls our luggage from the plane as Pierce and I make our way down the stairs and slide into the back seat of the car.

I fixate on the cityscape while Pierce rattles off an address. Memories of the last time we were in New York creep up to the forefront of my mind … and everything that happened in the weeks that followed. I wish it would all just go away.

“Have you ever been to Madison Square Park?” Pierce asks after a few minutes of silence.

“I’ve only been in New York with you so if we didn’t go, I haven’t been there.” The answer comes out sharper than I intended it to but yet I don’t apologize.

“I guess it’s going to be your first time then,” he says as the car pulls in front of a lush green lawn guarded by a wrought iron fence and mature trees. It looks foreign in the city.

“What are we doing here?” I ask, looking over at him.

“Having lunch.” He opens his door and steps out without looking back.

I follow behind, walking as quickly as I can in my heels to catch him. “If I’m not mistaken, I declined your invitation.”

He laughs, turning back to look at the street. “Looks like our car already left. Do you want to sit on the bench over there and wait two hours for it to come back, or would you like to have lunch with me?”

“This isn’t fair.”

He shrugs. “Life rarely is.”

Without another word, he starts walking down the paved path again. I stand with my hands clenched, debating my next move. I hate giving in, but I’m also not keen on being left alone in New York.

“I’m not very happy with you,” I say as soon as I catch up.

“I don’t think you have been for months. Why would that change now?”

He’s right. What happened on Christmas Day put a fence up between us.

“Where are we eating?” I ask, changing the subject.

“Shake Shack.” He sounds like a little kid who has just been promised ice cream with sprinkles.

“And it’s in this park?”

“Yep”

I stay close behind him taking in the colorful flowers and smiling children that we pass by. Before long, we reach what I can only describe as a fancy concession stand. It’s a nicely appointed metal building surrounded by a crowd of suits and families alike.

“This is where you wanted to have lunch?” I ask, breaking the silence.

He lifts a brow, lips curling. Why is he so hard to stay mad at? “This place has the best burgers and fries in the country. Just wait.”

“What do you suggest?” I ask, staring up at the menu board.

He points to an empty table. “Grab us a seat, and I’ll order. If you don’t like it, I’ll let you run the show for the rest of the trip.”

Now, it’s my turn to lift my eyebrow. “You’d give me all the control?”

“No, that’s just how confident I am that you’re going to love it.”

“We’ll see,” I taunt as I watch him walk away.

The wait seems like forever, and I have to admit all the food that passes smells amazing.

“Is this seat taken?”

I look up to see Pierce smiling down at me. “It depends. What’s in it for me?”

“My company and this,” he answers, setting a basket of the most delicious smelling food in front of me.

“Consider the seat yours.” I pick up a piping hot fry and pop it in my mouth. It burns the roof of my mouth, and as I struggle to cool it off, Pierce slides a cup in front of me. I sip it, tasting chocolate ice cream; it’s a perfect compliment to the salty fry.

“Better?” he asks.

“Much.”

For the next few minutes, we eat in silence. The burger is cooked to perfection, the juice soaking through the bun. It’s messy but worth it.

I catch him watching me every now and then but divert my attention to the people that walk by.

“Why don’t you just yell at me and get it over with?” His words are so out of the blue I practically choke on my food.

“I’m not mad anymore if it makes you feel better,” I reply, going back to people watching.

“I’m not talking about this.”

Now he has my attention. “What are you talking about then?”

“You blame me,” he says, pushing his food away.

I open my mouth to ask what he’s referring to, but I already know. And he’s right … if he hadn’t said some of the things he did about Blake, I would have approached things differently that day. He can’t take it back nor can I.

“You have to know, Lila … you have to know it wouldn’t have worked out whether I told you or not.” He stops, playing with the corners of his napkin. “I wish I could go back. I wish I would have chosen my words better, but it’s done. I’m sorry.”

Tears pool in my eyes, not because I’m thinking about Blake but because Pierce just proved himself to be a better man than I already knew he was. I built a short wall between us because I did blame him for some of what happened with Blake, but at the end of the day, it was all me. I didn’t trust Blake enough to not draw the wrong conclusions.

“I don’t blame you,” I whisper so he won’t hear the tears in my voice.

“I feel like you do.”

I shake my head, looking up to the sky as if it holds all the right answers. “I’m not happy. I wouldn’t say I’m depressed, but I’m not happy. My friends keep telling me it’s time to move on, but I don’t know how.”

He leans across the table, holding my hand in his. “You have to forget. You have to have moments where you think about something other than him.”

As I look down, I notice his watery eyes. “Is that what helped you get through what happened with Alyssa?”

Now he’s staring up at the sky. “It took a long time, but I buried myself in my work—kind of like you do—and after a while I realized that wasn’t enough. You’re just putting off what needs to be done.”

I wait for him to look at me. “And what’s that?”

“Live. You have to live the life you want … look forward instead of back.”

“And how long did it take before you were able to do that?” I ask, swallowing the lump in my throat.

“I’m still working on it. It’s a constant search for happiness.”

I think long and hard before what I say what’s on my mind. It’s something I’ve wanted to say to him for a while. “Her death is not your fault, and it wasn’t his either.”

There’s a long silence again. Maybe I overstepped my bounds, but I needed to say it.

“I don’t want to argue,” he finally says, “but that’s something I’m still working through. My opinion might change down the road, but it’s something I struggle with.”