All day, I had been pacing around my townhouse in a state of pure, unadulterated panic and regret. I still could not wrap my mind around what I had done, what my mother-- of all people-- had talked me into doing last night. Sitting at the dining table in the warm, cozy, comforting atmosphere of my mom’s house, it had seemed like a fine idea to compose an email to my long-time opponent and sworn enemy, Rodney Barrington, to meet me at a bar for a chat. It had even appeared to be a great idea to press send on said email, too.

With my cheerful, optimistic mother sitting across from me chattering on and on about how wonderful it would feel to finally bury the hatchet and come out the other side of this years-long grudge, it had been easy enough to convince myself she was right. Maybe it was the glass of very expensive red wine she had poured for me. Or the heavenly taste of the pot roast. Or the soft jazzy music she was playing on the vintage record player in the living room.

Or maybe it was just the fact that my mom was so good at painting a beautiful picture of what could be that I didn’t pause to contemplate the uglier picture of what probably would be an absolutely disastrous, career-ruining evening at the bar with my old enemy. The enemy who was just now recovering from the big purplish bruise I had given him not long ago, courtesy of my fist.

The enemy whose face I would have to confront in court whether or not this little meetup went off without a hitch. Or a punch.

After a few hours of comfortably chatting and catching up with my mom last night, I had driven home sleepy and more at peace than I had been in a long time. Mom tended to put me in that kind of headspace. She was very reliable for comfort. When I got home, I slid straight into bed and had a lovely night of restful sleep-- the first night of that in recent memory.

But then at about five in the morning, I had woken up out of a terrifying dream in a cold sweat, sitting straight up with my eyes wide and my chest heaving. My pleasant dreams of going to a beach as a young child on family vacations had morphed halfway through into a nightmare in which Rodney got me disbarred. It was pretty clear that my subconscious had decided that it wasn’t quite awful enough harboring the memory of Rodney nearly getting me kicked out of Harvard Law-- no, I needed an updated refresher on how shitty it would feel to live through that again. Now. As an adult with a mortgage and major bills to pay.

Ever since I woke up sweaty and anxious, I had spent the rest of this long, arduous day in the same state. Unable to fall back asleep, I had slithered out of bed and forced myself to go on a brisk morning jog. Usually, watching the gorgeous sunrise over the Vegas cityscape was enough to put my mind at ease at least for a little while. But this morning, not even the raw beauty of Mother Nature could keep my mind from spinning in useless, frantic circles.

What had I done? What was I thinking? Asking Rodney Barrington to meet me at a bar for a chat? Like we were simply old friends in need of a catch-up session. Like we had some kind of comfortable, pleasant history together to reflect back on instead of the festering pit of enmity and mutual hatred we actually had between us.

Yep, I thought to myself as I jumped in the shower post-jog, I had clearly lost the last few remaining shreds of my sanity. There was no chance of this get-together going well. In fact, I kind of half-expected Barrington to march into the bar and punch me in the jaw. And in a way, I almost kind of hoped he would do just that. At least then it might help even the playing field a little bit. Because as it stood right now, if Rodney wanted to really stick it to me, all he had to do was go to the police and fill out a report about how I had openly assaulted him at the convention a couple weeks ago. It wasn’t like there was any lack of witnesses. I’d punched him right in front of everyone we knew and worked with. The list of witnesses would have to be at least ten pages long. I could only hope that he would show up to our chit-chat with an open mind.

All day, I had tried just about everything I could think of to keep my mind busy. After all, that was how I tended to function most of the time anyway. I needed to be constantly distracted, crushed under a massive stack of papers to file, dossiers to read, appointments to schedule, and arguments to write and rehearse.

It was a Saturday, and although I had urged Penelope to take the day off (mostly so that she wouldn’t see me panicking and ask me about it), she had assured me in her usual cheerful way that she didn’t mind coming to the office for some quick work. Without a good enough excuse not to, I relented, and around noon she turned up with a salad for herself and a hoagie for me.

“Brought you lunch,” she announced as she swished into the office, already texting on her work phone. I opened my mouth, but she answered my question before I could even ask it. “Turkey and swiss on whole wheat. Lettuce, tomato, hold the onion. Spicy mustard, no mayo, and a dash of salt and pepper. The world’s most boring sandwich, as usual.”

I chuckled, the first moment of levity I’d had all day. Maybe it was a good idea to have her around. “Thanks, Pen,” I said, sitting down at my desk to dig in. With all the stress swirling around me today, I had forgotten to eat breakfast, so I was ravenous.

And luckily, my fears were unfounded; Penelope was too wrapped up in work and her own personal stuff to ask me about mine. As always, she flew through her work at breakneck speed, chatting to me all the while about her most recent date with Meg, her fashionista girlfriend.

“She took me to the Mandalay Bay Aquarium, Hud. The aquarium. As if we were little kids or something,” she gushed, shoveling a huge bite of cobb salad into her mouth. Without missing a beat, she went on. “I mean, if anyone else had taken me on a date like that, I would’ve been bored out of my mind. But you know what? Meg made it actually fun, despite the fact that it was, like, a thousand degrees and there was a school bus full of kindergarteners there.”

“Anything can be fun if you’ve got the right company,” I replied vaguely.

She nodded. “Oh, totally. She even bought me this big drippy ice cream cone with sprinkles on it. Again, like a little kid. But it was awesome. And oh, my God, you should’ve seen her. Meg had this adorable vintage dress with a flamingo print on it. Super gaudy and over the top, but on her, it just looked normal. She can pull off anything, I swear.”

“You two sound like a perfect pair,” I said, smiling.

She blushed. “Honestly, I agree. I’ve never felt so happy and carefree in my life, Hud. I’m tellin’ you, you got to get out and go on a date once in a while. Give love a chance.”

I chuckled. “Wow, Pen. You sound like a greeting card,” I teased.

She giggled and swatted at my arm over the desk. “Shut up! It’s true.” Her phone started buzzing and she snatched it up, her eyes brightening instantly.

“Is that her?” I asked. She nodded, biting her lip.

“Oh, she wants to go bowling tonight. Do you think we’ll be out of here in time for me to meet up with her?” Penelope asked hopefully. I waved my arm and nodded.

“Definitely. In fact, you’re good to go now if you want,” I told her truthfully. “You’ve knocked out all the work in record time, as usual. It’s a Saturday. Go. Have fun. Tell Meg I said hi. Oh, and make sure you kick her ass at bowling. Gotta establish dominance,” I joked.

She snorted and began shoving her stuff into her briefcase. She stood up. “Cool. I’ll text you the score when we’re done. If I win, that is. If I lose, we’ll just pretend none of this ever happened. Got it?” she quipped with a wink.

“Sure. Understandable,” I laughed. “Later, Pen.”

“Bye! Don’t forget to eat dinner later,” she said as she walked out the door. I sighed. Between Penelope and my mother, sometimes it felt like I needed a whole team to keep me alive and functioning.

I glanced over at the clock. Seven-thirty. My heart leaped in my chest. Only two and a half hours until I was supposed to meet up with Rodney at the bar. I somehow managed to mope around the house hard enough to make the time go quickly, and then I called Quincy to come pick me up.

The whole ride to the bar, I was nearly dizzy with nervousness. It took a lot to get me worked up like this, which only proved how much of a hold Rodney had on me-- mind, body, and soul. On one hand, I hated him for what he’d done to me. On the other hand, well, I couldn’t deny how I felt when I was around him. The way he intoxicated me with one look. I settled in at the bar counter and ordered a whiskey neat, my eyes darting back to the entrance over and over again.

I must have checked my watch a thousand times before finally, I glanced away. At just that moment, Rodney Barrington came waltzing up to the bar like he owned the place. He looked self-assured and confident as always, dressed in immaculate tailored clothes, not a single hair out of place. I held my breath as his blue eyes scanned the counter, and I felt my blood run cold when his gaze landed on me. To my surprise, he didn’t scowl. He smiled.

I gulped hard as he came sauntering over, taking a bar stool next to me. I could feel his warm, minty breath when he leaned in and murmured wryly, “You look nervous, Hud.”

I stiffened, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. My body was on fire, just being this close to him. I was so not ready for this meeting. But I had to go through with it-- for the case, if nothing else. Southwestern First Bank needed me to get through this.

With a cool smile, I replied, “And you’re not?”

He chuckled and turned to the bartender, ordering a scotch. I snorted and he looked at me quizzically. “What?” he asked.

“You drink scotch now. That’s a big leap from the Jägermeister shots you used to do back in college, huh?” I teased gently. He grinned and took a sip of his drink, nodding.

“A lot has changed since then, Mr. North,” he replied cryptically.

“That’s true. But I have a feeling some things never change,” I said, staring at him hard. Those blue eyes flitted over to lock with mine and my heart skipped a beat. He was sizing me up, but not flinching away. After a moment of cold deliberation, he asked a question.

“So, how did it feel to punch me in the face?” he inquired, without a trace of guile.

I struggled to keep from averting my eyes. But I needed to stay on top of this. I needed to maintain composure. I swallowed, then asked quietly, “You want the truth?”

“As opposed to a lie? Yes. I’ll take the truth any day,” Rod said.

“Well,” I said, pausing to sip my whiskey, “in that case; it felt good. Really good.”

He smirked. “I appreciate the honesty.”

“I appreciate that you didn’t go to the cops,” I admitted. He chuckled and swirled the scotch in his glass.

“Of course not. I spend enough time in court as is,” Rod replied coolly. “Besides, it looked like you had been saving up that punch for a long time now. Would be a sin to make you keep it locked up any longer.”

“You know, even though it did feel great, I wanted to apologize,” I began. “That was a shitty, immature way to handle my-- my feelings. About you.”

“Your feelings about me?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow suggestively. A shiver ran down my spine. I laughed nervously.

“You know what I mean. My feelings about what happened back in college. It’s not healthy to hold a grudge that long,” I confessed. “And with all of this bullshit happening with my father the past couple of years, and the media scrutiny-- it all just boiled over and I took it out on you. Specifically, on your face.”

Rod grinned, looking genuinely amused by my explanation. “Fair enough. And now it’s time for me to be honest with you,” he offered.

My heart was doing somersaults by now. “Okay. Uh, go ahead,” I urged him.

“I didn’t go to the cops because I didn’t want to go to court, but that’s not the only reason. I also realized that I needed some closure. And believe it or not, that punch you threw kind of jolted me back to reality and made me… realize some things. Rethink my perspective,” he said.

I furrowed my brow. “Your perspective on what?” I prompted.

To my surprise, he reached over to touch my hand gently. I almost dropped my drink. What the hell was he doing? And why? He leaned in and said, “On you. And pressing charges would’ve gotten in the way of that.”

“Of what, exactly?” I asked. He scoffed. “I’m serious. What are you talking about?”

“Oh, like you don’t know,” he said in a low voice. He looked up at me shrewdly, his eyes lingering over my lips. “Hudson, I know your secret, the one you’ve been keeping for years and years. I can’t believe it took me so long to put it together, but it makes sense now. I only wish you had told me about it. You could’ve trusted me.”

I pulled my hand away, suddenly feeling sick to my stomach. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, Rodney,” I protested fiercely. I stood up and stalked off to the bathroom, glaring at him over my shoulder. I rushed into the tiny bar bathroom and closed the door, bracing myself on the sink as I looked in the mirror. A million thoughts were ricocheting around my head. Did he… did he know? Had he uncovered the secret that I’d been hiding from everyone, even my own mother?

Not ten seconds later, the bathroom door swung open and Rod came barging in. He grabbed me and spun me around, marching me backward to pin me against the wall, his blue eyes flashing. “What do you want, Rod?” I demanded, my heart pounding.

He leaned in close and whispered, “You really think you’re going to sock me in the face and then leave me without a good explanation? Don’t you think you owe me a little more than that? Come on, Hud. Stop running away from your problems. It’s not healthy. You were so close to being totally honest for once in your life. Don’t stop there. I want you to admit it. I want you to admit the truth.”

We stared at each other for a long, tense moment, and then, without meaning to. I glanced down at his lips, unable to stop myself. And from there, it all happened so fast. There was no turning back from this moment.

It was impossible to tell which one of us moved first, but before I could think twice about it, his lips were pressed against mine in a desperate, fierce kiss, his hands reaching up to cup my face as he rutted against me. He moaned into my mouth while I dropped a hand between us, gripping his thigh and moving my hand slowly upward. I could feel him getting hard, his cock straining against his designer trousers. Rod’s teeth grazed my bottom lip and I groaned, reaching up to grab a fistful of that glorious blonde hair. We were grappling for dominance, both of us too stubborn and desperate to give up an inch of traction, and we were hurtling toward the inevitable at the speed of light.

Finally, he broke away for a gasp of air, just long enough to murmur imperatively, “Come with me. Follow me to my car.”