"Loverboy sent a gift." Lizzy points to a small package on the kitchen table.

"What are you doing up?" I ask.

"Heard you leave." She taps her fingers against the table. "So…"

I copy her annoyed tone. "So…"

She nods to the package. "I made coffee." She lifts her cup. "French roast."

I pour myself a cup and sit at the table.

"So…" Lizzy taps her toes. Clears her throat. Takes a long sip. "Are you going to open it?"

"It's more fun making you wait."

And I'm not exactly prepared for whatever this is.

It's a small package wrapped in plain grey paper with a pink bow on top. It suits him. It's exactly like his sleek, utilitarian office.

It's his life. Grey everywhere. The one touch of color is superficial. It's easy to tear away.

Even if it's my favorite color.

And the theme of the wedding.

Lizzy sighs. "I'm opening it."

"Don't you dare."

She raises her eyebrows. "I already read the card."

"And?"

She grabs the card—it's the same grey as the wrapping—and holds it to her chest. "Not sure if he wrote it before you dumped his sorry ass."

My stomach flip-flops. Fine. I'll read the damn card. I grab it from Lizzy's hands.

Kat,

I hope this gets your mind off things. If it's not enough, my way is a lot more fun.

Sincerely,

Blake

Sincerely.

It twists the knife in my chest.

But it proves me right.

I can't be a sincerely.

I unwrap the present carefully.

It's hard. Slick. A book.

It's a hardcover copy of Ghost World, a special print with the entire comic and the screenplay from the film. I flip it open and—

It's signed.

It's perfect.

My heart thuds against my chest.

I'm a sincerely.

That's what matters here. Not that this present is perfect. Not that Blake seems to know exactly what I want.

I close the book and push it to the center of the table. Coffee. I need to drink this coffee. I take a long sip. French roast. Black. Strong. Hint of vanilla.

Just like what was on his lips after the pool.

Fuck. It's not working.

"Hey… Kat…" Lizzy's voice is sing-song.

"Yeah?"

"Want me to get out of here so you can have a booty call?"

"No." I move the hardcover to our bookshelf. I'll look at it later. When it makes me think of something besides his strong hands and his piercing eyes. "I want to have brunch with my sister."

She smirks. "You want a booty call at his place."

"No, Lizzy. I broke off our engagement last night, and his mom is in the hospital. It's not the time for a booty call. Okay?"

She slumps in her chair. "I was just kidding."

"Sorry, I haven't slept."

"So can we go to the brunch place that doesn't card?" she asks.

"No way in hell."

* * *

Brunch is quiet. I eat a full plate of stuffed French toast and spend the afternoon napping with my sketchbook pressed against my chest.

Lizzy makes dinner. She's not the best cook in the world, but neither am I.

We eat in front of the TV in silence.

Maybe she's reeling too. Her life is going to be different soon. She'll be on another coast. With all new friends and surroundings.

She resigns herself to studying.

I spread out on my bed with my sketchbook. I've been working on all these tiny little comics—four or six or even ten panels. When I lay them side my side, they fit together. They're kind of like Ghost World, actually. They're vignettes about life refusing to stay the same.

It's been changing all this time. It's not just before the accident and after the accident. Every day is different. Every day, I'm different. Meeting Blake…

That's just speeding things along.

I get to work on another six-panel comic. There's so much I want to capture, but I'm not good enough yet.

The images in my head don't come out right on paper. I need training. I need experience.

It's not too late to reverse my decision. It's not too late to take Blake's money to pay for school.

But that feels wrong. There are other ways. Need-based scholarships. Loans.

Working while I go to community college part time.

Between checking school deadlines and working on my comic, I lose track of time.

Lizzy wishes me goodnight. Promises to check on me before she leaves for school tomorrow. My phone beeps with a low battery warning. I go to plug it in when I see—

Blake: Kat, call me. I need to talk about Meryl.

It's only an hour or two old and there's a missed call to go with it.

I dial Blake and hold the phone to my ear. Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay.

"Kat," he answers. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Can you tell me what's going on?" I dig my fingers into the phone. "I mean, thank you for the book."

"It's supposed to be an early wedding present."

"Even so."

"You like it?" There's vulnerability in his voice. He really does want to make me happy.

"Very much." I clear my throat, but it does nothing to chase the light feeling from my limbs. "What's happening with Meryl?"

His breath catches. "Kat…" Every ounce of hope drains from his voice.

My heart sinks.

Blake is rattled.

He's never rattled.

There's no way this is going to be okay.

His voice is quiet. Soft. "She's going home tonight."

I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. "What does that mean."

"It's hospice care. She only has a few days."

Fuck. "Are you okay?"

His exhale is heavy. "Are you?"

I shake my head. Something he won't hear.

A tear rolls down my cheek.

How can something so inevitable hurt this badly?

Meryl deserves better.

She deserves more.

She's been so kind to me. Kinder than anyone has been in a long, long time.

I wipe my eyes. "I'll manage."

"She's staying at her house upstate."

"Oh, can I… I don't want to intrude."

"She'd love your company." His voice is steady again.

I take another deep breath. "I'll take the first train in the morning."

"I'm leaving in an hour. I'll pick you up."

My heart races. I manage a choppy breath. "Okay. Knock when you get here. Lizzy is sleeping."

"Sure."

"Thanks."

"Kat?"

"Yeah?" My stomach twists.

"It's gonna be okay."

It's not, but he's sweet to lie.

* * *

The knock is so soft I can barely hear it. That was fast. My suitcase is only half packed. My clothes are a mess on the floor.

My head…

This is hard for me. How the hell is he holding on?

I move into the main room and pull the door open.

Blake is standing there in jeans and a navy Henley. Like this is a normal date. Like I didn't break off our engagement yesterday. Like his mom isn't dying.

His eyes find mine.

He steps inside and presses the door closed.

It's just us in here. Lizzy is in her room, but the rest of the world feels far away.

He brushes my hair behind my ear.

I lean into his touch as his fingers skim my cheek. It's soft and sweet, like he really does love me.

"You okay?" he asks.

"No."

Blake wraps his arms around me. His body is warm and hard, but there's something soft about his embrace.

He leans closer.

Rubs my shoulders with his palm.

"How the hell are you so calm?" I tug at his shirt.

He runs his hand through my hair. "I don't have a choice."

I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. I know exactly what he means. Pulling yourself together is the only way to keep from falling apart.

"You do it, too." He runs his fingers over my cheek. "You're a strong person."

"Thank you."

"It does hurt me." His voice is steady. Even. "It's just I don't show it."

"You don't show anything. You're like a robot."

He laughs.

Oh, God, that laugh.

It cracks the wall around my heart.

It makes me warm all over.

And it convinces me this is going to be okay. One day. Somehow.

He steps backwards. "Sit down."

I do.

He pours me a glass of water. I drink it greedily. It feels like I've been thirsty for years.

Blake sits across from me. He leans closer, elbows on his knees, palm pressed against his cheek. He stares right into my eyes. "You're a very sweet girl."

"I'm twenty-one. I'm not a girl."

His lips curl into a half-smile. "Do you need some time?"

"Five minutes to pack."

He nods, reaches out, and brushes the stray hairs from my eyes.

He catches a tear on his thumb.

My legs go weak. Thank God I'm sitting. I'm spinning in too many different directions.

My body is desperate for his comfort.

But we're not together. Not even pretending to be together.

I can't ask that of him. No matter how badly I need it.

I press myself up and move into my room. It's a mess, but not out of line for a twenty-one-year-old.

I fold another pair of jeans, another t-shirt, another sweater. Extra socks and underwear. There. That's everything.

Worst-case scenario, well, best-case scenario, I can come back to pick up some extras. Hell, Blake probably has people for that.

There's a light knock on my door.

"Come in," I whisper.

He steps into the room.

His gaze focuses on my unadorned left hand. His eyes turn down. Almost like he really does want to marry me. No, he does. Just not for the right reasons.

He sits on my bed and pats the spot next to him. It's a tiny little bed—a full—but there's just enough room for the two of us.

I rest my head on his shoulder. He slides his arm around me.

His fingers brush against my back.

God, the man really is comforting. We could have had a perfect marriage except for the little matter of him not loving me.

"You're hurting," he says.

I nod. "I'm sorry. It's your mother. It's not fair for me to react like this."

He runs his fingers through my hair.

It wakes up every nerve in my body.

I turn towards his touch reflexively. It's the most comforting thing in the history of the world.

"I can get your mind off it." He drags his fingertips over my neck. "But you'll have to do things my way."

His breath is warm and wet.

I want his way.

I want to feel anything else.

His touch is so soft. My eyes flutter closed. My nerves stand on end. It's an itch, and he's the only thing that can scratch it.

"You'll have to surrender completely," he says.

Perfect. I nod. "Please."

He rises and presses my bedroom door closed. Slides my suitcase out of the way and surveys the bed. "You have any scarves?"

I grab one from my dresser and hand it to him.

Blake rolls his shoulders back. "Take off your clothes. All of them."

I slip out of my sweater, t-shirt, and jeans. Just a bra and panties now.

Blake's pupils dilate. His tongue slides over his lips. I unhook my bra and slide it off one shoulder at a time.

He stares at my chest like he's transfixed, groaning lightly as my bra hits the ground.

His gaze returns to my eyes. There's something in his gaze today—urgency. He needs this too. It's a release for him too.

My sex clenches as I slide my panties to my ankles.

Blake motions come here.

Hell yes. Two steps and my body is pressed against his. I'm on display for him. I'm his. He can use me as he pleases.

He runs his fingertips from the nape of my neck to my ass. His touch is light and patient. Much, much too patient.

He kisses me, slowly sliding his tongue into my mouth.

I grab his shoulders, hook my leg over around his hip, groan into his mouth.

Blake is kissing me. It feels so damn right. It's hard to believe there's so much wrong with this non-relationship.

He adjusts our positions so I'm a foot away from the wall. Not the one that connects with Lizzy's bedroom. The one we share with the neighbors.

Blake guides my arm, placing my palm flat against the wall. He does the same with the other.

His hands close around my hips. He nudges me a few inches closer. My nose is six inches from the wall. There's barely any breathing room.

He pulls the scarf around my eyes, blindfolding me, and ties a tight knot. Everything is fuzzy but I still have a sense of the light in the room.

My body goes cold as he moves away.

The light changes. The main one is off now. Just the desk lamp. There's shifting behind me. Blake taking off some of his clothes. Everything inside me wants to turn around, to rip this blindfold off so I can drink in the sight of his gorgeous body.

He moves closer. His nails scrape against my back, trailing down my spine. He digs his fingers into my ass with a heavy groan. "What do you want?"

"You."

"How?"

That flutter below my belly goes into overdrive. I want him every way, including a million ways I'll never get him. But that isn't what he's asking. He doesn't care if I love him or not.

This isn't about love.

This is fucking, pure and simple.

I press my fingertips against the wall. Something to contain the desperate feeling in my body. "Inside me. So deep I can't breathe."

Blake groans as he slides two fingers inside me.

I press my palms into the wall. It's not enough. It doesn't contain the pleasure racing through me. I swallow a groan. I'm not waking up my sister. Not like this.

He fucks me with his fingers.

He brings his other hand to my breast and toys with my nipples.

I press my back against his chest, soaking up the feeling of his body against mine.

This is sex. Just sex.

But it's more too.

He wants me feeling good. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally.

"Blake." I slam my hand against the wall. There's the deepest, hardest tension inside me. It's perfect agony.

He draws circles around my nipple, sending pangs to my sex.

Almost…

I arch my back, shifting my body into his, pushing him deeper.

The tension in my core knots.

I arch my back.

I bite my lip.

There.

I bring my hand to my mouth to muffle my groans. My sex pulses as I come. Pleasure spreads out through my limbs. It pushes away all the storm clouds in the room.

Blake brings his hands to my hips and pulls me into position.

I shift my hips as he enters me. It's like I'm home, like I'm whole.

He brings his mouth to my ear. "You feel so fucking good." He groans, digging his nails into my hips.

He pushes deeper. Deeper. Deeper.

I gasp. It's so much pressure, so much it hurts. But that's its own kind of good.

He brings his hand to my pelvis and holds me against him. All I can do is surrender to the feeling of him deep, deep inside me.

Pleasure whirs around inside me. "Blake," I groan. I rid my mind of conscious thought.

"Tell me you're mine," he commands.

"Tonight," I say.

"Always." He slides his fingers over my clit as he thrusts into me.

"Tonight." My legs shake. My breath catches in my throat. "I'm yours tonight."

He lets out a low, heavy groan.

He moves harder. Deeper.

I arch my back to meet him, rubbing my clit over his fingers like they're my personal sex toy. The ache inside me fades to bliss. I'm close.

"Don't stop," I moan.

"Like hell." He grabs my hair and pulls my head back, so my neck is pressed up against his mouth. "You're mine," he growls against my neck.

Tonight. I'm his tonight. It's the only thing I want to be.

He grabs my hips and pins me to the wall. I turn my head, arching my back to keep him as deep inside me as he'll go.

Blake kisses me. It's hard, hungry, desperate. He moans into my mouth.

Then, his lips are on my neck, and he's moving harder. Deeper.

His fingers slide over my clit with that same rhythm. Almost. Almost…

"Blake." I groan his name as I come.

The release is a rush. I go into free fall. I lose track of everything but the bliss spreading through by body.

He doesn't stop. He keeps rubbing me. Keeps thrusting into me. It's too much sensation. It hurts like hell.

Blake nips at my ear. "Fuck. Kat."

Then it's not too much. It's perfect. This orgasm is fast and hard. It starts high. Builds and builds. Tighter and tighter.

Everything releases as his nails dig into my skin.

I come in waves. I shake. I lose my grip on the wall.

Blake grabs me and throws me on the bed face first. I hold on to my comforter as he pushes my legs apart and slides inside me.

He's mine tonight.

He pins me to the bed as he fucks me.

A few thrusts of his hips and he's there, shaking as he comes inside me.

My breath returns slowly.

Blake collapses next to me. He pulls off my blindfold and pulls me into his arms.

He's staring at me with all sorts of affection.

Like he really does love me.

"You okay?" His voice is soft. Sweet.

I nod. "Great." Physically, at least.

He presses his lips against mine.

It's not raw heat and desire.

It's need. Love. Something like love.

My heartbeat picks up. I get warm everywhere.

I let myself believe it. I let myself hold onto every drop of his affection.

"I hate to rush you, but we should head out." He brushes the hair behind my eyes.

I nod to the door. "You never gave me those five minutes."

He slides off the bed and waits in the living room.

I dress and run a brush through my hair.

Whatever it takes, I'm going to survive the next week.