On the train back to Manhattan, Henley invites me over for dinner.

At last, I’ll get to see her place.

“I make the most incredible mac and cheese from scratch. You’ll pretty much never want another woman ever again once you have my mac and cheese,” she says, tapping her fingers against my chest.

“So mac and cheese is your closing sales pitch, basically?”

“Absolutely,” she says with a confident nod. “I told you—I’m an excellent girlfriend. Mac and cheese is one part of an awesome whole.” She gestures to her purple dress and red scarf, same outfit as yesterday. “But obviously, I’m going to change before you come over tonight.”

We both showered this morning at the B&B, and by shower, I mean a spectacular blow job that stopped short of the finish line so it could turn into a screw against the tiled wall as water streamed down her sexy back. And then, there was soap and shampoo and all that jazz.

But neither one of us was prepared for last night’s sleepover, so we’re both in the same clothes as yesterday, though Henley told me she brought along a change of panties, figuring she would need it. Obviously, she needed it. As the train chugs into New York, heading for Grand Central, I check the time. We’ll arrive in twenty-five minutes, and that makes me even more aware of another countdown clock.

The one that ticks to the talk. Sooner or later, we need to discuss how this is going to work. I need to tell her about Creswell’s interest in having me do more work for his network shows. It only feels fair to tell her, even though it might upset her. But that’s part of what we’ll have to sort through. As I think on what to say, she peers at her phone for the first time in a while, and it occurs to me that she’s cut back in that department during the last several hours, and I couldn’t be happier.

She’s been happier. She’s been less tense. Though, let’s be honest, multiple orgasms probably do that to her, too. But as she scans her messages, a harsh sigh sounds. She purses her lips and stares out the window.

“Hey. Is that your business deal?” I ask, rubbing her knee.

She nods and bites her lip. “It’s my attorney. He says he’s going to call me in thirty minutes.”

“I hope it’s good news.”

She turns to me as the city rumbles by. Her eyes are big and earnest. She takes a breath and squares her shoulders. “Max, I’m trying to buy into John Smith Rides. To become a fifty-fifty partner with him.”

My jaw comes unhinged. I rub my finger against my ear. “What did you just say?”

She clasps her hands together as if in prayer. “Please don’t be mad at me. I couldn’t tell you because I signed an NDA. My lawyer made it clear this had to be completely confidential or it would fall through, but I hate keeping this from you now that we’re . . .” She trails off as if she’s afraid to say what we are.

Maybe I am, too, because I open my mouth to supply the answer—together—but nothing comes out. I’m too shocked. I never expected her business deal was this big, this competitive, this direct. When she mentioned she was working on one, I figured she was reeling in a huge new contract with a high-roller client. Never did I think she’d be getting into bed with my biggest rival.

I try to say the word once more—together—but it sticks in my throat.

“I’m sorry,” she says, and something like guilt passes over her eyes, as if she’s done something wrong. “I know this comes as a shock, and you probably think I’m sneaky and underhanded, but you have to know I was forbidden from telling anyone. And I didn’t think it would matter anyway. Besides, when we worked on the car for the show, we never traded secrets or discussed business, and John checked out the work. The only deal that ever came up between you and me was the Bugatti zombie guy,” she says, rattling off the facts, and I can tell by the speed of her words that she feels horrible. “But you mentioned him in an offhand way, and I already had a meeting with him, and it was just one of those things. You need to know I’m not trying to go after your business, but now that you and I made it official, I couldn’t keep this from you, Max.”

She reaches for my hand and takes it in hers, then locks her gaze with mine. At this moment, she looks so young and innocent, but earnest, too. Gone is that hard edge. Absent is the chip on her shoulder. All that’s left is honesty, a wish to do the right thing.

Tension tightens my body from the force of habit. If I was concerned before about how we’d navigate our relationship and business, I should be a hell of a lot more concerned now. And yet, is there anything wrong with her not telling me? I’ve kept business details to myself, and all things being equal, if I were buying into another shop I wouldn’t tell a soul either. Especially if I’d signed an NDA. What kind of man would be pissed at his woman for wanting to buy a business? She couldn’t tell me because she couldn’t tell me.

And yet, here she is, telling me. Because she didn’t want to keep it from me.

I barely deserve this woman.

I squeeze her hand, and all the tension subsides. “Don’t feel bad, tiger. Am I thrilled you’re buying into my rival? No way. But I respect you and I respect this choice. You were already working for him, so I suppose this is no different. We were going to face this issue. Now we’re just going to face it when you’ve got more skin in the game. Fact is, I’m fucking proud of you. For going after what you want. For pursuing it. And then for telling me.”

She clasps her hand to her chest. “Oh my God, I’m so relieved. I felt awful. I didn’t want to keep carrying this around, and I wasn’t supposed to say anything, but I reasoned that you’d learn soon enough. But we’ll figure this out. I mean, Venus and Serena Williams have played tennis against each other, and certainly there have been other competitors who find a way. Prosecutors and defense attorneys, actors vying for roles…”

She looks so hopeful that we’ll pass our first test.

That’s what this is. The chance to see if we can make it all work.

Even though I’m shocked, I have to believe that we’ll be fine. “Whatever happens, we’ll be good. And I hope it’s a good deal for you, Henley.”

“I hope it goes through. Smith and Marlowe,” she says proudly, like she enjoys the sound of it. “It’ll be my chance to grow and expand in New York. I’ve been working so hard on it.”

As the train slows near Grand Central, I figure her honesty is reason enough for mine. If she has the guts to serve up something this big, the least I can do is let her know the truth about Creswell. The truth I should have told her last night.

“Listen,” I say, squeezing her hand. “When you asked me what Creswell wanted to talk about, I wasn’t entirely truthful.”

She cocks her head to the side. “You weren’t?”

I shake my head. “He told me last week he wants to talk to me about doing more work, and last night when he pulled me aside, he was following up on it.”

“Oh.” Her voice sounds empty.

Briefly, part of me wonders why I’m telling her. We can’t just serve up every possible business deal to each other on a platter, can we? And I don’t plan to share every business deal with her in advance. But since I kept the truth from her, this seems to be one I should share. “I’m telling you because this is part of what we need to figure out—how we’re going to deal with the fact that we’re going after the same business. Even though I suspect most of the time we’ll need to keep things quiet.”

“Right,” she says, taking her time with that word. She points at me. “Except you weren’t honest.”

I wrench back. “What was I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know. But maybe not a lie? Maybe not ‘it’s about a monkey.’ You could have said you were discussing work possibilities down the road.”

“Then you’d have known, and you might have gone after the work,” I say matter-of-factly.

Her eyebrows shoot into her hairline and she recoils. “Excuse me? You think it takes me hearing about work to go after it? I’ve been talking to him, too, trying to win work. If he wants you, that’s great. But my pursuit of his business has little to do with you telling me he might have work. My job is to go after potential work—not to sniff around and hope you’ll drop a hint that there’s business to be had.”

“Fine. Then why are you upset?”

She narrows her eyes. “Duh.”

“Duh, what?”

She taps her chest. “Because I was honest with you. I told you yesterday I was working on a business deal, and I had to keep it quiet. Then I told you the whole truth just now. But you flat out twisted your story and lied to me.”

When she puts it like that . . .

My shoulders fall. “Shit. I messed up. I’m just trying to figure all this out, and I didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t truly know what was happening between us either.”

She shakes her head and crosses her arms. Then she stares out the window for a second. She snaps her gaze back to me, then finally, her expression softens. “Look, it’s fine. I get that it will take time, and there will be stumbles.”

I breathe more easily. I don’t have the moral high ground on this one, and she’s granted me a reprieve. That’s all I can ask for. I take her hand. “Yes. Let’s keep figuring it out together.”

When we exit the train and walk past the big clock in the station, her phone rings. She zooms back into all-business-Henley mode. “My lawyer,” she says, and then stops in place to talk to him.

I do my best to keep busy by checking my own phone and giving her some space, but I can still make out her words.

“That’s it?”

She’s quiet.

“Just like that?”

More silence as she listens.

“There’s nothing we can do?”

Another pause.

Then her voice starts to break. “So, the deal is just off? Did he say why?”

The longest pause in the history of pauses comes next.

Her knees buckle, and she grabs at a sign.