I didn’t see Chase again after he took me to get my car. In a way, I was glad. It was confusing being around him. I definitely had feelings for him, feelings I didn’t understand.

And then there was that vibration running through me every time we touched. I still had no idea what the hell it meant, but it no longer scared me, and I was no longer worried for his health.

Maybe what I was feeling was just because he was so damn nice. In the short time I’d known him, he’d proven to be someone I could depend on. And I did care about him. I just wasn’t sure if I felt about him the way I suspected he felt about me—and if not, then what? I couldn’t bear to hurt another nice guy. It was hard enough seeing Brian after what had happened with him, and the risk that he could have been a real SOB and arrested me for assault was scary. A lot of guys would have done exactly that just to get even.

Then there was Preston.

I’d given him my heart, and while I loved him, and I believe he loved me, it had never felt right. It was a hard truth to accept, and I wasn’t sure I fully accepted it. Acknowledge was a better word. I was acknowledging the possibility that Preston was treating my heart like another one of his possessions. Like one of his sports cars. It was his to do with what he wanted, when he wanted, and then park it in his climate-controlled garage until he felt like firing it up and taking it out for spin.

But I wasn’t a thing to be owned and played with.

After our last fight, Preston had sworn it was over with Suzanne. And I, of course, had believed him. But if he was telling the truth, what was the other night about? It had to be difficult for a girl like Suzanne to come into Blondie’s and confront me, even with her entourage. And the fact that she’d obviously had a few too many cosmos told me she needed the liquid courage to do so. But would she have done it—drunk or not—if she and Preston weren’t together? Possibly. Maybe it was a way to scare me off, make me think they were still together so I would break it off with him and she could sweep back in and claim him.

It was a pretty elaborate and risky thing to do on her part, but if there was one thing I’d become certain of in the past eighteen months, I didn’t know shit about rich people.

And that included Preston.

I hadn’t seen him since before the incident with Suzanne. I called him the next day and left him a voicemail telling him what she’d done and told him not to contact me unless she was completely out of his life. I didn’t want to hear about social circles or clubs or family ties.

That was a week ago, and I’d heard nothing back. I don’t know if that meant he was with her or mad at me for not believing him. Or too busy with work to answer.

Maybe all of the above.

As stressed out as I was, it was no surprise that I ended up with a wicked upper respiratory infection. After I begged and pleaded with her, my Aunt Donna, who worked for a doctor, was able to get me a prescription for antibiotics and cough medicine, saving me a visit to the urgent care center.

I was so sick I missed two days of work. I went back Thursday but came home after prepping for the lunch rush and spent the rest of the day in bed, only getting up when my mother brought Izzy home. Not long after I’d put her to bed, I crashed on the sofa.

I opened my eyes feeling fuzzy and confused, especially about the steady tapping on my door. The apartment was dark except for the ghostly blue light from the television. The clock on the cable box said it was almost eleven.

I grabbed the hammer I kept nearby and crept toward the door.

“Who is it?” I whispered, not wanting to wake Izzy.

“Me.”

“I don’t know who ‘me’ is,” I said, although of course I did.

“You know damn well it’s me, Rain. Open up.”

I unlocked the door, still holding the hammer. I didn’t step aside to let him in.

“What?”

“C’mon. Let me in.”

“Look, I don’t feel well. Unless you have something new to tell me, then there’s no reason for you to come inside.”

“I have to talk to you. I have something to give you.”

“Preston, please. Don’t do this to me.”

“Baby—”

I started closing the door.

“I won’t leave until you let me in and talk to me.”

“Fine.” I tried to close the door the rest of the way. “You can sit there all night if you want.”

He pushed his way inside.

“Preston!” I was practically hissing, which triggered a fit of coughing. He waited patiently until I stopped. “I want you to go,” I croaked.

“Marry me.”

My heart slammed against my rib cage, then plummeted down into my stomach. “It’s really over? No more Suzanne?”

“Tell me you’ll marry me.”

“Get out.”

“No.” He pulled me into his arms. Mine hung limp at my sides. “I love you, Rain. If I can’t see you anymore, it’ll kill me.”

It was déjà vu all over again. It might be a cliché, but it was true.

“You know,” I said, beginning to cry even though it angered me to do so. It may have been more related to being tired and feeling sick than it was to matters of the heart. “I think there’s something seriously wrong with you. If you love me so much you can’t live without me, why the fuck can’t you break it off with her?”

“Because I’m weak,” he whispered into my neck. “Because I can’t risk angering my father, or I could lose everything. When he retires, everything becomes mine. We’re talking millions, Rain. I can’t take a chance. But once he steps aside, and everything is signed over to me, it won’t matter who I disappoint. It’s complicated. I’ve told you that. My parents? They’re all about their clubs and the way things look, and they expect me to marry Suzanne.”

He kept kissing me, tugging at my nightgown, determined to have me. He begged me to change my mind, forget my ultimatum. But his words, even in my foggy, weakened state, solidified my decision—and broke my heart. I would be no one’s “disappointment.” I deserved more.

I pushed against his chest. “I can’t, Preston. Please. I won’t do this to myself anymore. It’s over.”

He snatched me up and carried me to the couch.

“No,” I whispered, thinking of Izzy in the next room. “Please go.”

I was in tears, but he kissed them away until I gave in. He made love to me quickly and quietly, and if it was to be the last time for us, it was hardly a flicker compared to the fire that had once consumed me.

It was more than fitting.

While he dressed, I lay naked, wrapped in a quilt, sneezing and coughing, my head throbbing. Disgusted with myself for caving.

He sat on the coffee table across from me and pulled a small blue velvet box out of his pocket.

“I’ll stay away. Give you space. For now. But I want you to wear these every day until you change your mind.”

When I didn’t take the box, he opened it. Inside was a pair of round diamond earrings. They were huge—so big that no one I knew would ever believe they were real. And proof that his “proposal” had been nothing more than a way for him to buy time. Had he been serious, there would have been a ring in that box. And I still would have rejected it.

“I don’t want them.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, pushing them toward me and bumping his hand into my breast.

I slapped his hand away.

“I said I don’t want them!”

“Do you have any idea what those are worth?”

I sat up so quickly the room began to swim. “I know exactly what they’re worth: more than a year of my life, my self-esteem, the hurt feelings of some very special people, and the loss of someone who might have made me very happy.”

I grabbed my nightgown off the floor and yanked it over my head.

“I’ll still make you happy, baby, I promise.”

“You asshole! I didn’t mean you!”

I walked to the door and held it open. He set the box on the coffee table. As he passed, he leaned down to kiss me. I pulled away.

“Suit yourself,” he said, no longer sounding as desperate as he had when he arrived.

I snatched the box off the table and waited by the door as he made his way back to his precious Stingray.

“Preston,” I called as he opened the car door.

When he looked up, I aimed the box at his head and threw it as hard as I could. It glanced off the roof and bounced into the parking lot. Horrified, he ran his hand over the spot where the box had struck the car. I would have loved to have left a dent in that damned Corvette, but I didn’t have that kind of luck.

The only thing cracked and dented, was my heart. And my self-esteem.

Dents could be fixed. I just hoped mine weren’t too deep.