It’s been hours and I’m purposely dragging my feet. I want all this to stop so I can hit pause. Instead I’m falling down a black pit, forced to make a choice of what will happen when I crash at the bottom.

Sitting forward in my chair, elbows on the desk, I nudge the mouse to my computer and it lights up the screen once again. Two gorgeous blue eyes stare back at me. Her long, thick lashes frame them perfectly. Her skin is flawless, with only a hint of color in her cheeks. But it’s her expression that had me staring at her picture all morning. Her lips are parted as if she’s about to smile. So close to happiness, but the photo caught her before she could have it.

It’s only been two days since I’ve last seen her, but each night I’ve felt compelled to message her and make sure I knew where she was. The insecure side of me wanted to ensure she wasn’t with someone else. That’s the truth of the matter. I trust her when she says she’s not involved with anyone. However, I know all too well what loneliness can do to a person and I want her completely to myself.

If I pretend like the events that led to meeting Jules didn’t happen, then there isn’t a damn thing wrong with what’s between us. If only it was that easy to forget.

Knock. Knock.

My gaze lifts to the clock and then moves to the door to my office. It’s past 8:00 p.m. and almost time to meet Jules.

“Who is it?” I call out, not knowing who the hell it could be. Maintenance, maybe?

“Your partner in crime.” Liam’s voice comes from the other side of the door and I relax slightly.

“Come in,” I yell out to him, checking my cell phone and seeing a text from Jules. She’s waiting for me. The very thought spreads a feeling of warmth through my chest.

I set the phone down, giving Liam my full attention although I have no idea why the fuck he’s here.

“You seem preoccupied.” Although it’s meant as a statement, it comes out as a question. Before I can even think about it, Liam’s eyes are on my computer screen.

It’s an innocent glance, but he doesn’t need to see her. More importantly, he doesn’t need to know about my new obsession. I’m quick to exit out of the article about Jules. It was about her husband’s passing. How she was dealing with the loss, although the picture they used of her was from years before.

I’ve read dozens of articles about her over the last few days. They’re all the same. Every single one of them ooh and ahh over her. Some articles gush about her charity work. Others are less substantial and concern themselves with her opinion of an event or what clothes she’s wearing. They put her on a pedestal and in such a precarious place that it’s far too easy for her to crash and burn. And that’s just what she did according to the articles that came out after her husband’s death.

The sole fucking image I can’t get out of my head is one of her crying at her husband’s funeral. Maybe they showed mercy by using an older photo for the article I spent the day looking at because on the day she buried him she looked as if she’d died herself.

Inhaling deeply, I will the memory to go away. Wishing I’d never seen that grief on her beautiful face. Wishing I didn’t have a hand in causing it.

“Well now,” Liam says, ignoring my irritation. “Is this—”

“What are you doing here?” I ask him, cutting him off and leaning back in my chair with my shoulders squared. He’s still standing and leaning against the desk casually, but my tone has that arrogant smile on his face vanishing instantly.

He rubs the back of his neck, raising his brow and looking past me out the window as he takes a step back. “I was just wondering if you’d put the final numbers in.”

I clear my throat, feeling like an absolute prick. “Sorry, it’s been a long day.” I rub my shoulders and click on the spreadsheet. “I was just getting ready to put them in.”

“So it’s all finalized?” Liam asks me with a chipper smile, seeming to forget that I’m an asshole just like that.

“So far, so good.” I force a smile and try to shake off the unease flowing through me. I can’t explain the dichotomy of how I think of Jules. I want to take her out, impress her and please her in every way, including showing her off and showing off for her. But I also want this thing between us to be my secret. I don’t want anyone close to me to have an idea of what’s going on.

It’s a design for failure. I can’t help what I want, though.

Liam claps once and says, “Perfect.” He starts to walk away but then looks back at me with an expression asking if he can pry. Curiosity in evident in his eyes. “That’s all I wanted to know.”

“You don’t need anything else?” I ask him, the beating of my heart raging loudly in my chest. I don’t know if I should refuse to answer whatever questions he has about Jules. Everything in me is screaming to deny it all. I can never let anyone know.

“So … Julia Summers?” the prick has the balls to ask me.

Not hiding the irritation by audibly exhaling, I nod in confession. I can’t help that I feel a sense of pride as his cocky smile widens.

“It all makes sense now. I guess I can forgive you for being such an irritable fuck lately.”

“Watch it,” I say under my breath but the smile on my face only encourages him.

“Good for you,” he says as he looks back at the screen, but it’s only a spreadsheet. “Is it serious?” he asks me and I don’t know why. He’s never asked me before about who I’m fucking, or dating for that matter.

When I don’t answer, he adds, “You just seem unusually preoccupied recently.”

I move my seat closer to the desk, stretching my back and then shrug, doing my best to come off casual. “I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

He waits for a moment, expecting more, but I return to the spreadsheet and open the folder of options on my desk. “I’ll have it done before I leave,” I tell him, giving him a tight smile and ending the conversation.

He leaves quietly, merely waving a goodbye on his way out and letting the door shut with a loud click that fills the empty room.

I look up when he’s gone and tap the pen against the desk. I don’t know what to deny and what to keep a secret. Confusing the two could be fatal, but the lines are already blurred.

Julia

This is not a date.

This is not serious.

This isn’t something that needs to be more.

This is for fun.

This is pretend.

My pen stops on the last line. I stare at the words I’ve scribbled into the notepad, but my mind is blank. I don’t know what I intended for this poem to be. Inspirational maybe?

It all just looks like lies to me.

I click the end of my pen over and over. Click. Click. Click. Click. Debating ripping this sheet out of the notebook and balling it up for the round cabinet … a.k.a. the wastebasket.

The clink of several ceramic mugs being stacked together makes me turn to look over my shoulder. I inhale the rich smell of coffee in the small shop. The floors are checkered and the walls painted plain white, but this place serves the best coffee downtown. It’s also right across from Mason’s office and I told him I’d meet him here. My eyes drift up, my thumb still on the end of my pen.