The door slams into the frame.

Pete takes a step backwards. He stares at me, his brow knit with confusion. That isn't an I love you too expression.

He looks like he's been side-swiped.

We stand there staring at each other. It feels like an hour passes. It can't be more than thirty seconds but it feels like an eternity.

My stomach drops. I'm glad I said it, I am, but it doesn't feel good, him staring at me like I slapped him.

When he speaks, his voice is low, unsteady. "I still don't know what that feels like."

"If you loved me, you would know. You would feel it. I feel it every time I look at you."

His eyes go to the floor. "Let's talk inside."

"I don't think I want to talk."

"Whatever you want."

"Are you going to love me one day?"

"Don't want to promise you something unless I'm sure."

There's acid in my throat. Cake, champagne, and rejection is another powerful combination. Only it sucks.

Sadness fills Pete's eyes. He wants to love me. It's almost sweet that he wants to love me but he can't.

I step inside. Not to talk. But to change, pack my things, go somewhere else.

The door slams shut. He tries to slide his arms around me but I break from his touch.

"We should cool things off for a while." I take a deep breath. This is awful but it's necessary if I want to survive the wave of feelings crashing over me. "I'll find some other place to stay. We can talk in a few weeks."

"No."

"What do you mean no?"

"No." He grabs my hand, pulls my body into his. "You're staying at the house. Even if it means I have to leave."

"You're getting kicked out in a few weeks anyway," I say.

"I can get around that."

"Pete… don't make this harder than it has to be."

He says nothing but he keeps my body against his. My breath hitches. I like his body. Even if I don't have his heart. It's tempting to ask him to throw me on the bed one last time.

To taste his sweet lips, to feel him driving deep inside me as our bodies connect, everything right in the universe.

A few minutes of bliss might be worth the emptiness I'll feel after.

I don't know what to say. I guess he doesn't either. Five minutes must pass. Ten.

Neither of us breaks the silence. No. It's the ringing of a phone. My phone. It's three A.M. in LA, almost four. But that means it's already morning in New York.

It rings all the way to voicemail.

"I want to be around you," he says.

"I want you to love me, but we don't always get what we want." My heart rises up into my throat. Dammit. I feel free and caged at once. My love sends me soaring high. His non-response sends me crashing back to earth.

My phone rings again.

Again.

Again.

Fine. I find it on the bedside table. Sure enough, it's Madison. Pete is still staring at me. I rub my forehead to stave off the impending headache.

"Your sister?" he asks. His voice is soft, sweet, like he's only thinking of me again.

I nod. "I better take this." I pull off my glasses so I can better rub my temples. Damn. Running out of time. I pick up the phone and hold it to my ear. "What's wrong?"

"Dad is in the hospital."

My hand falls back to my side. There's no fighting the headache now. "What happened?"

"He was drinking. I found him… like before. The doctor said he'll be okay in a few days. But…"

"I'll leave as soon as I can."

"I'm sorry, Jess. If you want to leave him to drink himself to death, I understand. You're trying to have a life. I want one too." She chokes back a sob. "I wish I knew what to do. You're better at this."

"That's okay. I'll text you my flight info."

"I'll pick you up at the airport."

"You don't have to."

"Please. I want to." Her voice breaks. "I called Zoe. She's flying up from Florida today."

"Good." My head throbs. I fall back onto the bed, pressing my eyes together. I try to blink back tears but it’s impossible. These aren’t happy tears. I’m terrified. "I'll see you soon. I love you."

"I love you too."

My hands fall to my sides. The phone falling on the bed. This is happening too fast. But at least everything is clear now. Pete doesn't love me. Dad isn't getting better. Madison needs my help.

The weight shifts on the bed. His arms are around me again. I'm limp, pliable. He pulls my body into his. Clarity, what clarity? I can't walk away from him. Not when he feels this good.

"Your dad?" he asks.

I nod. "He should be okay, but…"

"I want to come with you."

I want him to come with me. But I'm not sure I can take it. I wait for my tears to quiet then for the fear in my stomach to settle down.

I wait until I can meet his gaze. "You aren't a gentleman."

He nods.

"So if I ask you not to come, and you want me, you'll fight for me."

"Don't play a game. Tell me what you want."

"I want my dad to be sober. I want law school to be easier. I want my own house on the beach and my own fancy Tesla, but I want mine to be silver. I want the biggest cup of coffee in the world. And I want you to love me." I wipe my eyes. "Can't have any of that. Might as well want to live on Mars."

His eyes fill with frustration. "I want to come with you."

"Please don't make me say it again. It was pathetic enough the first two times."

"It wasn't pathetic. It was brave." He goes for one of the bobby pins holding together my updo.

Dammit, how can he say things like that, like he admires me for telling him I love him? I can't breathe. I can't think. Every part of me hurts. I don't know which is worse—my dad in the hospital or Pete admiring me for confessing my feelings.

"Please stop touching me. I need to get my shit together. And I can't do it if you're touching me, if the only thing I can think about is how much I wish things were different between us."

He sighs but he does shift back. "How long will it take you to pack?"

"Half hour."

"Do it. I'll book your flight."

I nod, but I make a long stopover in the bathroom to unpin my hair and wash the makeup off my face.

Pete takes charge. He sits me down on the bed, has me drink a glass of water. Then there's a snack in my hands and he's telling me to eat.

Then he's unzipping my dress, sliding it down my body.

"Try to sleep," he whispers. "First available flight is four hours from now."

He helps me out of my clothes and into my pajamas. This isn't how I want him undressing me. But it still feels nice, his hands on my body.

He presses his lips to my forehead.

I want to ask him to join me. I want his arms around me, his voice in my ear, him convincing me it's going to be okay.

But only if it's what he wants.

He's not a gentleman. If he wants me, he'll get into this bed with me, hold my body against his.

I pull the covers over my head, press my eyelids together, and fall asleep alone.

* * *

I wake to the smell of coffee and Pete's hands on my shoulders. It feels good and awful at the same time, him touching me.

"Too early for room service," he says. "I'll give you cash to get something at the airport."

I nod. Judging from the still dark sky, it's too early for any reasonable activities.

The room is totally stripped. Everything is packed. But the miserable look on his face tells me he hasn't changed his mind about coming with me. About loving me.

I let him lead the way through the lobby, into a cab, to the airport. He keeps his distance in the backseat. It's too much distance. I hate every inch we're apart.

He helps me out of the cab, helps me with my suitcase. Then we're at the self-checkout, he's printing out my boarding pass. First class. Nonstop. That ticket must have cost a fortune.

"I'll pay you back somehow," I say.

"Not a chance." His hand lingers on my shoulder. His eyes meet mine. "Are you sure?"

"About?"

"That you want to go alone?"

"Pete, you've already told me how it is. You fight for what you want. You're not fighting. You don't have to spell it out."

"That's not it—"

"I'm leaving now."

"I'm gonna kiss you. If you don't want that, tell me now."

I do want that. One last time. One piece of comfort to take with me. I nod a yes. Then his lips are on mine. They're frantic and hungry. I can feel the affection in his kiss.

That's love.

How can he not feel it?

When the kiss breaks, I'm dizzy. I take a step backwards. "I hope you figure out what you want."

For a minute he stares at me. He opens his mouth like he's about to say something. But all he does is nod goodbye.