“Graham, hey. Glad I caught you,” Lucas, or Loser as I like to think of him, sticks his Gucci loafer clad foot into the door of the elevator right before it closed completely. The double chrome doors pop back open, and he steps in. The shit-eating grin on his face irritates me, but I smile and say, “Yeah, lucky chance.”

I just started to forget that he existed. Apollo never mentions him. We see each other several times a week, and there hadn’t been a night that I’d called that she wasn’t free to meet me for dinner or drinks. Then, tonight, I invited her to have drinks, and she responds that she has a headache. I decided to stop by and check on her. It hadn’t occurred to me that she wouldn’t be alone.

Did she invite him over?

“You know, I’ve been hoping I would bump into you. Did Apollo mention that I wanted to get on your calendar?” His smile is so self-satisfied.

“Is Apollo expecting you?” I ask him.

His smile falters when I ignore his question. “Uh, I live here.”

I feel a flash of ice cold dread in my gut and have to remember my media training to keep my mouth from falling open.

“Excuse me? You live with … Apollo?” I ask slowly.

He laughs and shakes his head. “No, no … across the hall.” My knees nearly buckle with relief, and I feel a release of tension that I hadn’t realized was there. The elevator stops, and the doors open right away.

“She’s never mentioned it,” I say as we step off the elevator.

He sticks his hands in his pockets and rocks on his heels with that self-satisfied smirk still on his face.

“She’s a good girl, that one. Yeah, we did live together. But she ended things a couple months ago. It was her place first, so, I moved out.” Then he leans in, his smile lascivious. “I’m trying to get back in there. In the meantime, I’m right across the hall to scratch any itches that she may have.” He winks and throws his head back and laughs. It’s a high-pitched sound that sounds like a donkey dying that nearly drowns out the sudden rush of blood I hear in my ears.

When I grab him by the lapels of his jacket and shove him into the wall, it dies abruptly.

“What the fuck did you say?” I put my face close to his.

He holds his hands up, his eyes widen with alarm and dart from left to right before they finally meet mine. All the color has leeched out his already too pale face. His mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping for air.

“Well? Are you going to repeat it or pretend I misheard you?” I ask him, my anger growing with each second.

“I-I was just joking. I mean, you know how guys talk,” he sputters.

“I have no clue how guys talk. But men don’t talk about women like they’re just a walking, talking piece of ass,” I sneer.

“Listen, no offense. I forgot Apollo’s like a sister to you, right? I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.” He gives me a weak smile and tries to shrug. He laughs nervously, his eyes darting around like he’s looking for help. I give his lapels a tug, and his eyes come back to me.

This guy.

“Man, are you fucking blind? On what planet do you think Apollo is like a sister to me? I know about your little arrangement. But don’t think that somehow you’re ever going to be her man again.”

“You said y’all were best friends. I mean, I just … look, I respect Apollo.” His voice cracks as he stammers.

“She is my best friend. But she’s a lot more than that, too.”

His eyes widen, but he nods. His quick surrender disgusts me. Any man who lets Apollo go without a fight doesn’t deserve her.

I let go of his lapels and step back.

“Nice to see you. Glad we got to chat.” I pat him on the shoulder and smile pleasantly.

He smiles back. Though, the wide, terrified eyes, make it look more like a grimace than a smile.

“You, too,” he says shakily.

I walk past him down the hall to Apollo’s place. I hear him behind me, and I turn around and shoot him a glance. He points to the door across from Apollos’s with a nervous grin. “I live there.”

“Right, I forgot.” I shrug and turn to ring Apollo’s bell.

“Hey.” He clears his throat behind me. I turn around thinking I’ve underestimated him and that he’s about to tell me to fuck off and leave his girl alone.

“Yeah?” I raise my eyebrows when he just smiles at me.

“I, uh … about lunch? Are you free to meet?”

I reach into my pocket and pull out a business card. “Call my assistant on Monday. We can try to set something up.”

My assistant is an efficient and low-maintenance man named Darren. He lives in LA, and he would know when this call came through that my calendar wouldn’t have any openings for the foreseeable future.

“Wow, that’s great. Thanks,” he says and with a wave, opens his door and disappears inside.

I ring Apollo’s doorbell again and am about to pull out my phone to call her when it flies open. She’s soaking wet and wrapped in a thin, light yellow robe that leaves too much to the imagination.

“Graham, what are you doing here?” She sticks her head out into the hallway and looks around before she shoves me inside and shuts the door behind her.

“Looking for Lucas? He went inside.” I prop one shoulder against her wall and cross my arms in front of my chest and watch as she processes what I said.

She groans and hangs her head. “I was going to tell you,” she moans and walks over to her couch, covers her face with her hands and sits down.

“It doesn’t really matter. He’s irrelevant. Why are you so upset?” I sit next to her and pull her hands away from her face.

She turns miserable, contrite eyes to me. Her face is glowing, and her lips are pink and puffy like she scrubbed them.

“I’m sorry. Really. It just didn’t occur to me to mention it. I never see him. He’s seeing someone ...” She trails off and stares at her lap.

“How’s your headache?” I ask and watch her drop her head into her hands. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

“What’s wrong, baby?” I ask, even though I’m pretty sure I’ll wish I didn’t know as soon as she’s finished telling.

“I don’t have a headache,” she says without looking at me. She hands her phone over to me. “I saw Nanette today, and it reminded me of something.” I take her phone automatically, but I don’t look at it.

“In real life? Here in New York?” I ask, completely blindsided. That’s the very last thing I expected to hear.

“You didn’t know?” She looks at me sheepishly.

“I haven’t spoken to her in two years. Why do you think I’d know she was here?”

“She invited me to join the two of you for dinner. She said you bought her the fucking purse she was holding,” she says with such asperity, I lean back.

“And you believed her?” I ask, shocked that she would.

“Why wouldn’t I? Isn’t that what you guys used to do? Was she like your … sugar mama? Are you returning the favor?”

I feel like I’ve just been pushed out of a plane with no parachute. My head spins, and I gaze at her. “Why are you asking me that?”

She doesn’t respond, only nods at her phone. I look at what she has open and groan.

“Really? Hollywood Buzz?” I ask, but I should have known she would have a clue.

“Well, is what they’re saying true? Did you sleep with her for money?” she asks, and it’s my turn to stare blindly at the phone.

I don’t know how to answer that question. The “strictly speaking” answer is no. But, it’s also the less-than-honest answer. But I can’t tell her that without telling her everything. I can’t ever do that.

“No. She wasn’t my sugar mama. She lined up my work and took her cut. When I met Dean, I fired her.” I almost say, “that’s all.” But I can’t.

“Graham, I … when I saw her, smiling so smugly, it just took me back to a place I thought I’d never be.”

“You don’t trust me?” I ask, my stomach sinking as I realize that I can’t bury my head in the sand when it comes to Nanette anymore.

“No, no. I do. If you—”

“Apollo, I don’t want to force you to feel or want something …”

Her eyes widen, and she sits up straight. “What do you mean?” She looks worried. I hate this. I take her hands in mine and rub her soft palms with my thumb. I stare at her as I say words that taste like ash in my mouth.

“I mean, if you can’t get beyond our past and trust me to never ever go down that road again, then maybe we should …”

“Please look at me, Graham,” she pleads. I have to force myself to look at her and see the consequences of my choices. Her pain. Her mistrust. I did all of that. Am I asking for too much when I ask her to forget that, for whatever reason, I cast her aside?

“I hate feeling so insecure. You’ve always treated me like I walked on water. You look at me like I’m a sorceress who can command the oceans. You call me Sunshine.”

“You are. For me, you put the sun to shame, Apollo,” I tell her. I don’t understand how she can’t see that.

She grits her teeth in exasperation. “I’m just a girl!” she exclaims. “Who fell off a cliff and met this extraordinary human being and forced him to be my friend.”

“You didn’t. I looked at you, and I could see a future …” I tell her as I gaze into those universes that see everything.

She looks down sharply and then looks back up, her expression more determined than anything else.

“I don’t want to share you. I hate that everyone else wants you as much as I do,” she says. “You chose that life over the one we planned. There’s a part of me that’s afraid … I guess that maybe it’ll happen again.”

I grip her shoulders and stare down into her face. “Listen to me. I have never chosen anything over you. You are all I want. I will never stop showing you that. As long as I draw breath.” Disappointment makes my voice gruff. “But maybe, I’m pushing too hard. Taking too much for granted.”

Fuck. This is not what I expected tonight.

“This event tomorrow … if you don’t want to come, I’ll understand.”

She rears back like I slapped her. “What? You don’t want me to come?” She pulls her hands out of mine and stares at me.

“I do,” I explain. What a fucking mess I’m making. “But only if you want to. You’re still doing your thing with Lucas, right? I don’t know …” I hang my head and try to find the right words. “If you want time … I can give it to you.”

These are not the words I want to be saying, but I don’t want to mislead her. Not again. “I get it; it’s fucking hard living my life. New Yorkers are tame compared to the rest of the world. I’m not saying you need to decide right now. If things are like this between us—”

“Are you saying you don’t want …” She pauses to swallow. “… me anymore?”

I cup my jaw. “Not possible. For better or for worse, we are … We’re us,” I say solemnly.

It’s the only word that fits. We’re not anything that’s ever existed before. Two stars. One only shines when surrounded by darkness. The other shines bright no matter what.

I gaze into her eyes, and … oh, how I wish I was fucking her. I want to tell her, “You’ve never shared me. You consume me. You motivate me. You, and you alone see me.” But those words, they’re paltry. They mean nothing. I need to show her.

I stroke her cheek with the back of my hand and run my fingers down her neck, trace that comet shaped spray of freckles on her neck, and place my thumb on the pulse point in her neck. I search her eyes, let her see the one thing that is an absolute truth.

“I will never stop wanting you. Never. And if I have to, I’ll chase you for the rest of my life. I just … don’t want you to feel pressured. If you’re still unsure …” I sit back on the couch and stare at the ceiling. I’m fucking exhausted. But, I’ve got to sort things out with Nanette once and for all.

I’ve been working like crazy trying to pretend to be a normal every day guy. But, I’m not anymore, and I have a shit ton of work to do. And I’m gearing up to get ready to go back to school.

I’m so fucking tired.

“I understand,” she says in a voice devoid of all emotion.

I hate putting that disappointment in her voice. I want to kneel in front of her and beg her to come.

“This didn’t go quite as I planned.” I try to add a laugh, but it’s tired and lame. Just like me.

“I’m sorry.” She bites her lip guiltily.

Guilt is the last thing I want her to feel when she thinks about me.

“No, never apologize to me for how you’re feeling, Sunshine.” I lean down and press a kiss to the top of her bowed head. “Your name is at the door, you can bring up to five guests. If you’re not up to it, I promise, I’ll understand. I’m leaving for LA right afterward, so if you don’t come, I’ll see you when I get back next week.”

“You’re going to LA?” She sits up suddenly.

“Yeah, last minute business meeting and stuff with the show,” I tell her.

“Oh, okay.” She nods.

“I’ll see you?” I ask, deliberately not defining when that may be.

Then, I walk out and pray like fuck she’ll call after me. But when I step onto the elevator, I know she’s not coming. And when the doors close, I feel less hope than I have in a long time.

And in my head, questions swirl like dead leaves in a strong gust of wind—useless, messy questions that I can’t hold of long enough to answer. Did I overestimate her feelings? Am I an idiot to think I’ll ever be able to move on with her without telling her? What will I do if she doesn’t come tomorrow night? What the hell is Nanette doing here? At that, my thoughts come to a screeching halt.

Fuck. I should have seen this coming.

She called almost every day for a week a couple of months ago. I was busy planning my move. Not that I would have ever answered them, but it made ignoring them completely easier. After a week, she stopped calling.

I feel a knot of worry build. If she’s here, it can’t be a good thing. I pull out my phone and dial her number.