No limo today. Blake drives a black sports car. It's spotless inside and out. It matches him perfectly.

Supposedly, he wanted to give Jordan the week off.

But I don't buy that story.

I think he wanted privacy.

I'd bet good money that no one has ever seen Blake cry, not as an adult, at least.

The drive is quiet.

This late, the roads are empty. Everything is a blur of asphalt and sky.

I rest my head against the passenger-side door and watch the stars fly by. The farther we get from the city, the brighter they are.

The suburbs sneak up on me. I blink, and we're parked in front of Meryl's house.

It's funny. This place is the picture of idyllic perfection. It's not the kind of place where someone dies.

Blake insists on carrying my suitcase. I let him.

The gesture is sweet. I need the warmth of it.

We move into the house quietly. There's a light in the kitchen and a nurse sitting at the table with a cup of coffee. He nods to Blake like they know each other.

"Miss Sterling is resting," the nurse says. "She asked not to be disturbed until eight tomorrow."

"Thank you." Blake sets our suitcase at the base of the stairs. He turns to me. "You're staying in Fiona's room tonight. Last one on the right."

"What about Fiona?" I ask.

"She's coming up in the morning." He brushes the hair from my eyes. "You can stay in my room when she arrives."

I swallow hard. Sharing a bed with Blake is tempting. And dangerous. That's a quick trip to feelings-ville, that awful place where I'm crazy about him and he cares about me.

"I can't kick you out of your room." I slide my hands into my pockets.

"I insist." He nods to the bedrooms upstairs. "Let me put these away."

I take a seat at the table next to the nurse and offer my hand to shake. "I'm Kat."

"Vincent." He shakes.

"How are things? Is she okay?"

"I can't talk about that."

"Of course." Doctor-patient confidentiality. I know that. "You any good at chess?"

"Not at all."

"Me either. I might have a chance to win a game without a handicap."

Vincent checks his watch. "You're on."

I find the game and set it up on the table. I even give him white.

Vincent stares at the board for a minute then moves one of his pawns two spaces forward. Most of his attention is on his coffee. Well, most of his attention is somewhere else entirely.

Mine, too, but the game is a perfect distraction. I weigh every move like it's critically important.

The stairs creak. Blake.

He sits next to me, rubbing the inside of my wrist with his thumb.

Blake's touch is a perfect bit of comfort. I want to surrender to it. To soak up all of it.

But I can't. Not if he's never going to love me.

I win. Truth be told, Vincent isn't trying. But a win is a win.

Vincent excuses himself, grabs another cup of coffee in the kitchen, and goes to wait in the den.

Blake takes his seat and sets up another game. "You need a drink?"

I shake my head.

We play in silence. No queen handicap. He discards a rook instead.

I keep my eyes on the checkered board instead of looking at him. There's too much in his expression. It hits me someplace deep.

Blake puts me in checkmate. Figures.

"Play another?" he asks.

I nod. Focus on my pieces. They're little plastic things, cheap and flimsy. This is one of those chess sets you buy at the drugstore for five dollars, but then I'm not the type who needs to put a price tag on everything.

This chess set is a priceless distraction.

It's worth everything.

I'm more aggressive this game. We start trading pieces. I ignore my endless strategy contemplation and make the first move that comes to mind. It's pure instinct.

"Check," Blake says.

"What?"

"You have me in check," he says. "Didn't you notice?"

I look down at the board. Holy shit. How did I miss that?

"You won't get me that easily, Wilder." He laughs.

Fuck. That laugh. It makes my knees weak. It makes my stomach flutter. It makes me feel everything.

He moves his queen in front of his king. Figures the stupid king is sacrificing his wife. Asshole.

Well, fair is fair. I take his queen. "Checkmate."

"Now you're paying attention."

"I was too in the zone to pay attention to you and your wife-sacrificing ways."

"It was the best tactical move." His voice is light, joking.

"You always make the best tactical move, don't you?"

He takes my hand. "Not if it's a poor long-term move."

"But that's always it—it's always strategy."

"It's chess."

"But it's always strategy with you." I pull my hand into my lap. "Should we play again?"

"Kat."

"No. You're right. It's just chess."

"Reconsider." He stares into my eyes. "We don't have to rush."

"Yeah, right, as long as I mention it to your mom tomorrow?"

"That's not it."

He reaches for me, but I push his hand away.

I stare back at him. "I'm not marrying someone who doesn't love me."

He says nothing.

"Goodnight, Blake." I push off the table and walk up the stairs without looking at him once.

* * *

The suburbs are quiet. Even at our place way out in Brooklyn, New York City is loud. There are taxis, pedestrians, subways rumbling underground.

Out here, there's nothing. Not even a fan for white noise.

I toss and turn. Sleep isn't happening. I shouldn't have spent the afternoon in a state of near unconsciousness.

There's a soft knock on my door.

I push out of bed and answer.

Blake is standing there in his pajamas. He looks normal. No, he looks hurt. Needy.

"Come to my room," he whispers.

"It's not a good idea."

"Do it anyway." He slides his hand around my waist and pulls me closer. "You shouldn't sleep alone."

"I shouldn't sleep with you."

He presses his lips to mine. "So don't sleep."

Warmth spreads through my body. It's a compelling argument.

But I can't.

I rise to my tiptoes and press my lips to his. "I'm sorry. For everything." I take a step backwards.

He nods with understanding.

Still, it breaks my heart closing the door and climbing into bed alone.

* * *

Once again, I wake up alone.

The room is bright. The house is buzzing with conversation.

I brush my teeth, change, and head downstairs. The kitchen and living area are empty. The conversation must be in Meryl's room.

I pour myself a cup of coffee and hike up the stairs.

Soft knock.

Meryl answers. "Come in, dear. Watch your step."

I push the door open. The room is crowded. A nurse, not Vincent but a woman in her thirties, is in the corner replacing an IV. Blake sits on an ottoman. He looks perfect, the way he always does.

The nurse makes a signal to Meryl and sneaks out of the room.

Meryl pats Blake's hand. "Go eat breakfast."

"I'm fine," he says.

"And take a shower while you're at it." She makes a gesture like she thinks he stinks. "Right, Kat?"

"Absolutely."

He kisses her on the cheek. "I'll give you an hour. I love you."

"I love you, too," she says.

Funny, I've never heard anyone in the Sterling family use those words before.

They sound good.

I move aside to give Blake room to pass. His body brushes against mine, waking up all my tired nerves.

I steal his seat. "How are you feeling?"

Meryl motions to her IV. "Fantastic. This must be half morphine. I'm very comfortable."

I let out a half-laugh, half-gasp. Take a long sip of coffee to give myself time to think. "Your room is really clean."

She laughs. "That's a nice look on the bright side. I like that about you, Kat." Her voice softens. "You're so sweet to come see me."

She motions for my coffee and I hand it to her.

"Even if you're in it for the sex." Her expression fills with delight as she sips her java. "You forget the little things in life. They're what matters—the taste of a good cup of coffee, the joy of sex with someone you're mad about—"

My cheeks go bright red. "Jesus."

She laughs. "Believe me, honey. Life moves so fast. You've been busy surviving, I know, but you can't forget the little things."

"Please, no more about sex," I say.

She returns my cup of coffee. "Okay, the cherry blossoms in the spring. You must love those to plan your wedding around them." She folds her hands. "Have you reconsidered marrying Blake?"

"I suppose this is what it would be like if my mom was around—she'd be pestering me about when I was getting married."

Meryl smiles. "I like you together, but you have to follow your heart. I should have done that. I never would have married Orson."

"You didn't love him?" I ask.

"No. I thought I did. But that was hormones talking." She looks out the window at the bright blue sky. "Maybe you're right to stick to your guns."

"I'm sure Blake will be happy." I press my fingers into the porcelain mug. "I hope he'll be happy."

"Make me a promise, sweetheart?"

"Not until I know what it is," I say.

Her expression gets serious. "Give my son another chance."

"Meryl."

"One date. One chance to change your mind."

"It's really not fair for you to ask." I stare into my coffee cup. "It's not like I can say no."

"Like I told you, you have to grab what you want and hold on for dear life." She leans back into her bed. "Now, Blake told me you're applying to schools. I want to hear all about it."

I go over every single detail about my applications—the deadlines, the portfolio requirements, the different cities where I might end up. I even tell her I have no chance of paying without a scholarship.

She listens and responds thoughtfully. It's nice to have someone looking out for me. Even if she won't be around much longer.

We don't stop until Fiona arrives. I excuse myself and spend the rest of the morning working on another vignette.