This must be what hell is like.

I’m sure of it.

Ten years passed and I didn’t see Knox’s face. Not even one time.

I let my guard down, let him fuck me one time—just once, and since that night after I bolted, I see him everywhere. Every. Damn. Place.

It’s been a week and this is the fourth time I’ve laid eyes on him. Each of the last three times, I managed to dodge being seen. Like over lunch on Saturday when he sat outside a bistro near his condo, having coffee with Foster. That time, I was out for a run, so I quickly crossed the street and doubled back, taking a different route to avoid him. Then three days ago, on my way into the office, I saw him jump out of his limo to head into Steele Industries’ corporate head office. I turned up an alleyway to ensure we wouldn’t cross paths. And last night, well at least last night I was on a local bus when I saw him walking outside his condo.

It’s hell. A nightmare. Torture.

I think that’s why I bit the bullet just now when I caught sight of him outside the very same restaurant where my father made dinner reservations. Maybe if I face the music, face him head on, then the Gods of bad decisions will allow me to redeem myself so that I can finally stop seeing him everywhere I go.

Unless I move to the other side of the country like my sister, Bethany did.

But seeing him tonight is different. This time, his composure is off. When I meet his eyes, he looks shell-shocked. And not because of what I did to him last week, either. Something is going on. I got the sense that he was about to tell me something but stopped when he realized my parents were with me. It’ll be a relief if that’s the case and he’s still open to confiding in me. It’ll mean that our one casual hookup and the ten years he went silent didn’t permanently ruin our friendship. If we do manage to steal a moment alone tonight, I plan to find out.

I don’t want to be forced to turn and run every time we bump into each other. I need to make it right. I want my friend back.

On my father’s request, a server pushes a table next to the one where Knox and his grandfather are seated, making room for the three of us. Dad pulls out the chair beside Knox and motions for me to sit beside him. Okay, fine by me. This can work, even though I can tell that Dad has other ulterior motives. What he wouldn’t give to hook me up with one of New York’s elite families. Whatever. I’m just thankful he doesn’t know about our one-night stand. I wouldn’t hear the end of it.

“You’ve made some good strides since you won,” Mr. Steele tells my father as they continue their small talk. “Being a senator suits you.”

I brace for him or Dad to walk down memory lane and mention the tremendous amount of campaign support that came from the Knox’s family by way of monetary contributions. Dad brings it up every time the Steele name comes up in conversation. Mr. Steele smiles politely, but he doesn’t seem too interested in the topic. He and Knox aren’t talking much at all tonight. I get the impression that we—we as in my father—butted into their evening out at the least convenient time.

“What have you been up to, Morris? It’s been ages since we sat down like this.”

At Dad’s question, Knox’s hand tightens into a fist on his lap. It’s not a typical reaction to such a general question, and it doesn’t appear to have any effect on Mr. Steele, who has warmth in his eyes as he chats with Mom and Dad. Paying no attention to their conversation, I let my gaze move up to Knox’s face and know for sure there’s a lot more at play here. He’s tense, agitated. Without thinking, I’m subtle as I rest my hand on top of his clenched fist. No one around the table notices, as Knox and I are on one side of the joined table, Dad and Mr. Steele are on the other side, and Mom’s next to Dad, with her body more or less rotated toward Dad. Knox doesn’t flinch or react negatively to my touch, and after a few moments, he opens his hand and turns his palm to mine, lacing our fingers together. There’s no doubt in my mind now that his mood has nothing to do with me. His willingness to accept my show of emotional support is proof enough.

But if it isn’t about me, what the hell is going on?

I don’t want to wait any longer to pull Knox aside and get to the bottom of what’s going on. He’s hurting. It’s no small thing.

“Are you still planning to come to my Fourth of July party?” Mr. Steele asks my parents.

I’m not sure why, but his question gets my attention. Both our families used to celebrate that long weekend together every year when Knox and I were younger, and after Knox’s parents passed, Morris kept up the tradition. But everything changed after Knox went off to college. I haven’t spent time in the Hamptons since.

“Of course,” Dad says. “We wouldn’t miss it for anything. Any invite to get out of the city for that long weekend is a welcome one.” He turns to Mom. “It’ll save us a three-hour trip to our cottage in the Poconos, wouldn’t it honey?”

She gives an animated nod. “It’ll be fabulous. We’ll be there.”

Considering that I haven’t been to one of these weekends in years, I’m not sure whether or not to assume I’m included in the invite. I’m not about to hold my breath for one either.

“Great,” Morris says, picking up his menu. “Looking forward to seeing you all there.” He turns his face and meets my eyes. “Maybe this’ll be the year you’ll start coming again, Isabelle?”

So much for not holding my breath.

I glance over at Knox next to me, hoping for some signal as to whether he can bear having me around for an entire weekend. We may have had a casual hookup, and he may be okay with holding my hand for a few minutes, but that in no way means our friendship is back to where it used to be. I have no idea where we stand. “Thanks for the invitation, Mr. Steele. I’ll have to check my calendar and let you know.”

“Sounds great. You’re more than welcome, so even if you can’t now, and plans change for you on the weekend, just come on down.”

“I appreciate that.”

The server arrives to take our orders, and once he leaves our tables, Dad and Mr. Steele resume their talk. They delve into the usual, business, politics, world events, updates about the families in their circle of friends, and the like. Knox hasn’t let go of my hand,

Something is wrong and it’s time for me to find out what it is.

I lean over to him and whisper for only him to hear, “Can you meet me down the hall in five minutes? I think we should talk.”

He nods, and I take my purse from the floor beside me, excusing myself to use the ladies’ room.

Except I didn’t plan for my mother to take my announcement as an invitation.

“I’ll come with you,” she chirps.

I shoot her a warning look to hint that I’d rather go alone, but she doesn’t catch my drift. Getting to her feet, she links her arm through mine and chatters on nonstop all the way toward the harsh, white fluorescent lights of the ladies’ room. They make me seem about as pale as I feel inside. I stare at myself in the mirror for a moment, wondering if she’ll head back before me.

“He looks good, don’t you think?” Mom asks. I shrug my shoulders. “I always thought it was a shame that you two lost touch. You were always so close.” She opens her clutch and applies lipstick across her mouth, which unfortunately only silences her for a moment. “Your father and I thought for sure that you’d end up together.” I’ve heard all that before, so I don’t say a word, but she persists. “You never told me why you two stopped spending time together. Did something happen?”

“No.” I reply, my voice tight. “And you know it was never like that. We were just friends.”

“Sure, when you were kids, but look at him. Knox is all grown up.” She nudges my arm playfully. “He’s one hell of a man.”

I don’t need my mother talking about Knox like this. My mind needs no help at all to see how my best friend turned out. Not after that night at the party. All I can think about is his strong hands all over my body, the way he felt inside me, his possessive kisses that owned me, his mouth on my bare skin. My cheeks heat and I see the redness spread up from my neck in the mirror. If I keep this up around my mother, she won’t need to hear another word from me. She’ll read all the damn signs my body’s giving off without my permission.

I turn from her and start toward the door. “Don’t get any ideas,” I tell her. “Just… don’t.”

“Why not?”

I push the door open, still avoiding her gaze. “He’s not my type,” I say dismissively.

“What? How can tall, dark, and mysteriously handsome not be any woman’s type?”

“Drop it, Mom. Please.”

“You must be blind. I don’t understand why you insist on staying cooped up and single.”

“Please stop. You’re making a scene.” I groan and turn to face her. “Just leave it alone, will you? It’s not the time or place to—”

My mouth stops mid-sentence at the sight of Knox heading up the hallway toward us. God. Mom won’t be able to contain herself.

“Mom, Knox and I need to talk alone…about Foster,” I lie.

She turns to him. “Of course! I’ll be at the table. Take all the time you need.”

“Let’s go out back,” Knox tells me after she’s out of earshot, and places his hand at the small of my back, guiding me down the hall. “My driver’s outside.”

“Sure,” I answer, but to be honest, I’m not sure of anything anymore.

We sit side by side in silence in the back of Knox’s limo. It’s just us. The privacy glass is up, separating us from his driver. Minutes pass and neither of us has said a word. I’m brought back to those days when we were teens, sitting like this, quiet yet sharing so much without the need for words.

It feels like old times.

Until it doesn’t.

Knox puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls me into his side. That’s not out of the ordinary, but when he goes a step further, slowly lifting me into his lap, I’m pretty sure about where this will end up going. If we’re not careful, we’ll cross another line, and there’ll be no turning back.

Still, he hasn’t done anything other than wrap his arms around me. Maybe he just needs to hold me, to feel me close. There’s no harm in that.

But I’m dead wrong when his hand runs up my back, anchoring into my hair. He uses his grip to guide my face to look up at his, and his mouth meets mine. It’s the softest, gentlest kiss I’ve ever felt, yet it’s so potent and overpowering that it goes right to my core. The faintest hint of a touch, and he lingers there, while my body reacts everywhere, especially between my legs. After some time, he nips on my bottom lip, tugging it between his teeth. I start to feel his erection growing beneath me. I’m so torn. I want to know where this will go, but on the other hand, I’m so scared I’ll enjoy him too much, only to eventually have the rug pulled out from under me when he blows me off again. Because he will blow me off. I’m certain of that.

“We should go back inside,” I tell him against his lips. “They’ll come looking for us if we don’t make an appearance soon.”

“Sure. Okay,” he says, but his tongue says otherwise as it slides along my bottom lip, parting my mouth. His fingers tighten in my hair, and what starts off as soft and gentle and innocent quickly turns into a hot, deep, demanding kiss that I don’t want to end. I meet his tongue with mine, exploring his mouth as he claims me all over again and makes me forget where I am. He runs a hand up along my thigh and my legs part, wanting more contact. If it weren’t for the fact that I’m wearing dress pants tonight, there’d be no turning back. As his hand grazes over my waistband, searching to undo my button and zipper, I come to my senses and move it away.

“We can’t…we should stop.” I pull away and slide out of his lap, my fingers covering my lips and the other hand on the door handle. “This is a bad idea. I’m sorry… See you inside.” Jumping out into the warm evening air, I don’t look back as I hurry inside.

Of course, my appetite is nonexistent now. For food, anyway. I return to my seat just as the waiter comes from the other direction, his rolling tray packed with our food orders. Knox joins us a minute later. My parents and his grandfather give us a brief glance, but are polite enough not to mention our absence. They keep their conversations going, and I move my food around the plate, hoping no one will notice that food is the last thing on my mind. And Knox? He doesn’t look me in the eye or say another word to me for the entire time.

It’s the second time that I’ve shut him down or walked away from him. If we cross paths after tonight, I don’t know if I’ll have the strength to do it a third time.

No matter what, I’m staying far, far away.

I have to.