The art, though, the art isn’t about me. It’s too beautiful, too peaceful, too innocent. It reminds me of when I was a little girl, when the whole world was perfect through my eyes. It’s the opposite of anything I’ve ever seen Blake paint.
I see a tear spill down his cheek when I glance back over at him. I can’t take it—watching his pain—so I do what my heart tells me. Closing the gap between us, I wrap my arms tightly around him. He nestles his head in the crook of my neck, soaking my shirt with his sorrow. “Today was supposed to be her birthday,” he finally chokes, whimpering. “I just wish I could hold her.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, running my fingertips along his spine as my own tears fall. “It’s not your fault, Blake. You need to forgive yourself. She wouldn’t want you to hold this on your shoulders.”
“I would have done anything for her. I thought I’d done everything.”
“I know.”
We cling to each other like it’s somehow necessary for our survival. It may just be for his. After what could have been seconds, minutes, hours, I step back, holding his face in my hands. “You need to talk to someone. Do it for yourself. Do it for your future.”
“I have been,” he whispers, looking me straight in the eye. “This is the part I don’t like—I have to feel worse before I can feel better.”
I close my eyes, praying I’ll never regret the words that slip from my lips next. “I’m here for you. We’ll never be what we were, but I want to be here for you.”
He lowers his eyes and nods. “Can I have one thing?”
“What’s that?” I ask, biting down on my lower lip.
“Kiss me.”
“What?”
“Kiss me. I want to remember the taste of your lips. I want to—”
I shake my head. “I can’t. I—”
“Please,” he whispers, brushing his thumb along my lower lip. “Just kiss me.”
One more look at him and my resolve falls like the Berlin Wall. Wrapping my arms tightly around his neck, I press my lips to his. Neither of us pushes it further. It’s a transfer of emotion—maybe forgiveness, or goodbye. Maybe it’s comfort. Whatever it is, I’m selfish; I wanted this just as much as he did, but not for a second did I think about the ramifications it would have with him … or Pierce. To love one man complicates the heart, but two … there are no words for that.
Pierce. My chest tightens. Even after everything that happened earlier, I can’t do this to him. It’s innocent enough, but he wouldn’t see it that way.
I break away, moving back a few steps. “I can’t do this,” I cry.
“I’m sorry,” he says, staring up at the stark white ceiling.
“Don’t be,” I whisper, shaking my head. “In some way, we both needed that.”
He’s about to say something else when there’s a knock at the door. I start toward it; Blake is in no shape to deal with company.
Pierce stands on the other end of the peephole, staring down at the ground. The thought of not answering crosses my mind, but I’ve already done him wrong a time or two today.
“Hey,” I say, opening the door to him with a forced smile on my face. I didn’t expect to see him this weekend after how we left things earlier.
He holds up a bouquet of flowers. “I think I owe you an apology.”
I take them from his hands, bringing the fragrant red roses to my nose. “For what?”
“For blaming you for my problems—for his problems. I know you would never do anything to break my trust, and I need to stop treating you otherwise.”
There’s a pain in the back of my throat. In a way, I just proved him wrong, but I did it with the best intentions. “Pierce, he’s here. He’s staying in Mallory’s room for a couple of days.”
He looks over my shoulder, but the door is closed. Light still shines under it, and I wonder what he’s doing in there. Is he painting? Is he standing where I left him, staring at a blank wall? “Stay with me for the weekend. I can’t stand you being here alone with him.”
That’s when the real struggle begins. The one between doing what I should and doing what I want. I should stay here—make sure that Blake is okay, but I want to disappear with Pierce.
“Can you wait outside?” I ask, looking over my shoulder.
He groans, eyes burning a hole through Mallory’s closed door.
“I don’t want any drama tonight. Please … just wait downstairs. I’ll pack a bag and be right out.”
He hesitates. I know this isn’t easy for him, and it’s not a picnic for me either. He nods. “Okay. I’ll give you five minutes, but then I’m coming back up.”
“Nice compromise, Stanley.”
He smiles. “I’m working on it.”
As soon as he’s gone, I throw a few things in a bag and slip on a pair of shoes. I’m about to leave when I hear a crash in Mallory’s bedroom.
I open the door to find Blake curled in a ball on the center of the bed. I want to run to him—hold him—but I need to draw the line.
“I’m leaving for the weekend,” I announce from the doorway.
“He deserves you.”
“What do you mean?”
“As much as I hate him, he’s a good guy. He’ll protect you in ways I’ll never be able to.”
Before I close the door, I say, “I am still here for you if you need anything.”
As the door closes, I swear I hear him say “All I need is you” but I block it out, convincing myself that it was just my imagination playing tricks.
Pierce is leaning against a gray sports car when I step outside. He grins, and I can’t help but return it. When we are close enough to touch, he wraps his arms tightly around me, forcing me to drop my bag. He pulls me into a kiss making my whole body melt into him. He teases—licking then tugging, pulling me even closer. My arms curl around his neck as he leans me back to blaze a trail of kisses along my throat.
“We should go,” I pant, the warmth between my legs almost unbearable.
He reaches back, opening the passenger door for me without breaking the mood. He turns us around, slowly letting me go so I can sink into the seat.
His small car moves quickly down the barren streets, his hand resting on my upper thigh through every turn. I want so badly for him to curl his fingers between my legs, to make everything better.
The car whizzes into a packed parking garage, winding up to the third floor before pulling into a spot next to the elevator. “We’re home,” he announces, opening his door. Mine is open before I even get a chance to find the knob. He grabs my hand in his while holding my bag in the other.
The elevator closes, and he pulls me in for a kiss.
Then another when we exit in the hallway outside his door.
And again after placing his key in the lock.
As soon as we’re safely inside, my back is against the wall, my legs wrapped around his waist as his lips caress from my collarbone to the exposed skin above my breasts.
“Pierce, please,” I beg, kissing no longer enough to satisfy my desires.
“Tell me exactly what you want. I need to hear you say it.” He pins my arms above my head, taking away all my control.
“I need you, Pierce. I need to know that everything is okay. I need to know we’re okay.”
He moves both my wrists to one hand, using the other to push my skirt up to my waist. I hear his zipper then seconds later, he’s inside me, filling me until it hurts.
His lips capture mine, and I give him everything—my heart, my mind, my soul. When we’re like this, he’s all I think about … he’s all I want.
He thrusts.
I whimper.
He swallows my screams. He finally releases my arms, and I hold on to him for dear life as I clench around him. “Oh God, Pierce. That feels so good.” My body trembles as I come down from the high.
Holding me tightly, he whispers, “I love you.” Over and over again.
“I love you, too,” I say when I catch my breath.
He carries me through the dark apartment, down a narrow hall that leads to a massive bedroom with windows overlooking the city. It’s the kind of view I always had in my city dreams.