“What the hell just happened?”

I set my hands on her slim shoulders to steady her. She’s shaking. Her right hand covers her mouth and her lip quivers. She blinks back tears. My poor girl. She’s trying so hard to be tough.

She shakes her head.

“Tell me. Let me help you.”

A sniffle is my answer.

“Henley,” I say in a soft but firm voice, “was that the deal to partner with John?”

She nods and swipes a hand roughly across her cheek.

“And he nixed it?”

She nods and gulps.

“Because of?” I ask, though I think I know the answer already. I dread the answer. Because it’s everything she’s tried to avoid.

She closes her eyes, and jams a fist against one, rubbing away a rebel tear. She opens them. “He pulled the offer,” she says, forcing out the words in between tears. “He said he’s worried I won’t look out for his best interests.”

A new emotion digs into my bones. Anger. I grit my teeth, then ask carefully, “Because of us?”

She nods. “He thinks since I’m involved with you that means I won’t put Smith and Marlowe first,” she says, then she waves her hand like a fan across her face. “Who am I kidding? There’s no Smith and Marlowe.” A sob bubbles up.

“How does he even know about us? Did one of the guys say something?” For a second, I think of Sam and Karen. I never asked Sam to be quiet, but maybe something came up inadvertently? I’m sure it didn’t take rocket science for Sam to put two and two together. Hell, if Creswell and David thought we had chemistry, maybe it’s not that hard for anyone to tell.

“He asked Friday night, and I told him,” she says, her chin up high. “He saw us at your garage. He watched all the web promos. You don’t exactly look at me the way you look at Sam or Mike, and I don’t exactly look at you like you’re Mark from my shop or one of the guys. I didn’t want to lie, and I also knew what was happening between you and me was real, and it was going to come out one way or another. So I told him.”

I’m torn inside between the utter awesomeness of her faith in the two of us and my frustration for her and her deal falling to pieces. “I’m sorry this is happening to you.” I feel like I’m failing, just fucking failing at saying the right thing to her. This is all new to me. Relationships. Managing a woman’s emotions.

“I wanted this so badly. I’ve been working so hard to make this happen,” she says, her voice wobbly as the Grand Central clock ticks toward one in the afternoon.

“I know, tiger. I know you have. But fuck him. He’s a dick.”

“That’s easy for you to say. This was my job. I came back to New York for this. We talked for months about me becoming his partner. The deal was I’d be his lead builder, and if it worked out, I’d buy in as a partner and he’d cut back his own hours and let me do more. Now that’s gone,” she says, slashing a hand through the air, as if she’s swiping the dishes off a table. “It’s just gone. And just like there’s no Smith and Marlowe, I don’t even know if there’s a Marlowe. I don’t even know if I still have a job.”

That’s when the waterworks unleash. Tears leak from her eyes and spill down her cheeks. As I tug her in close, shielding and protecting her, those tears dampen my shirt.

I stroke her hair, trying to comfort her. In the span of twenty-five minutes, I’ve gone from shock that she was partnering up with my biggest rival, to accepting that we’d work through it all, to reassuring her that somehow she’s going to be okay even though the rug has been cruelly yanked from under her.

I’ve got to figure this out for her. “Henley, let me help you.”

She pushes her hands against my chest and raises her face. Her eyes are nearly black. They’re hard, like she’s wearing armor. “And you,” she hisses. “You don’t even believe in me. You always underestimated me. You thought I couldn’t even get the work with Creswell unless I fucking snooped on you.”

I recoil, not so much from the accusation, but the swear. She’s serious. Holy shit. She’s serious.

“That’s not true,” I say, but I sound as if I’m backpedaling.

“It is.” Her voice splinters again, and another round of tears fall. “And you lied to me.”

“Henley, stop. I’m trying to help.”

“I was under NDA,” she says, stabbing her chest. “And I still told you because I wanted to be honest with you. And you—you were just trying to protect a deal. You could have said ‘Just discussing some business with him’ and left it at that the two times I asked about what Creswell was talking to you about. But both times, you said your conversations were about something else. How does that make me feel?”

I heave a sigh and try to right this ship that I’ve sunk through my own jealousy. “Terrible?” I offer.

“It makes me feel like you don’t trust me. But I trusted you, Max. I wanted to come to you. I wanted to ask your advice on this deal because I knew on Friday night it was starting to unravel. When I met with him after the dance class, I could tell John was getting cold feet.” Her pitch rises, and her eyes are like pistols, aimed at me. “I had to fight a battle with myself to honor my commitment to confidentiality, but all I wanted was to come to you. I’ve always admired you, always wanted your insight, and you—you couldn’t even give me the truth. And now what do I have?”

“Henley,” I say, imploring. “Let’s work this out.”

“I have to go.”

“Wait,” I say, grabbing her wrist. “Don’t go. Let’s talk.”

She shakes her head. “I need to try to figure out what I’m doing with my life at this point. But before I can do that, I’m literally going to spend the afternoon crying, and I’d rather you not see it.” She raises her chin, that defiant, proud chin, and then she turns on her heel and leaves the train station.