Okay, I spent some time crying and feel like complete shit, but I am determined to take action. I have to uncover the truth of him.

I have to understand. My mom always says it’s my downfall, my need to know. And I can’t disagree, but now’s not the time to change.

So after he’d left, I’d squashed the crazy desire to follow him home to see what he’s hiding. Instead, I’d Googled his name again for lack of any other options. Just to trick myself into believing I’m taking action.

His address hasn’t magically become listed since the last time I looked. Nor has any articles popped up about him. I did search his name and the word married, and still came up empty.

Jackson’s digital footprint is just as small as it was the first time I researched him. There’s virtually no information about him after he walked out of his job and didn’t look back. After the article that states he was going home, that was it. He’d disappeared.

And, because the media has the attention span of a gnat, they’d moved on. I mean, he’s not Brad Pitt, he was a small-time celebrity at best.

Everyone but me had stopped caring about him.

At a dead end, I pace through my small room, watching the clock. The second it hits nine I pick up the phone and call Jillian who answers after the third ring with a groggy hello.

I wince. I’d been hoping to avoid waking her. “I’m sorry I woke you. I thought you’d be up.”

“It’s okay, I need to get up. I was up until two preparing for my upcoming show on Friday.” Jillian’s voice sounds mildly more alert.

After years of being aimless, Jillian’s making quite a name for herself in the Chicago art world and ambitious drive has kicked in. Between her father, her friend, Brandon Townsend III, and her charming personality Jillian has made contacts all over the city. She’s earned the reputation of having a good eye for untapped talent. One of her last undiscovered artists, a beautiful Frenchman by the name of Gaston, went from unknown to not being able to paint fast enough to keep up with the demand for his work.

She’s been working on his next show for months and everyone who’s anyone in Chicago will be there.

I clear my throat. “I’m sorry, do you want me to call you back?”

“No, what’s up?”

“I have a problem.”

“What’s wrong?” Her voice loses all traces of sleepiness.

“Well, see,” I falter and squeeze my eyes shut as fresh tears form. I try again. “I’m falling for Jackson.”

“Oh, I knew that from the second you met him, but what’s the problem?”

“All he wants from me is sex.”

“Hmmm…” There’s a pause over the line. “And that’s not good enough?”

“I want it to be, I’ve been pretending it is, but it’s not.” I wipe the wetness from my cheeks. Thank god for Jillian, the only person I can confess to. “There’s something else.”

“What?”

I swallow hard. “He’s hiding something.”

“Like what? Is he married? Does he have a girlfriend?”

“He says no.”

“Do you believe him?”

“Yeah, I do.” I sniff, remembering the cold way he informed me that this wasn’t a relationship. That I had no right to ask questions about his life. He’d warned me, laid out the rules when this started, but damn it, it feels like I have the right. I drag my hand through my hair. “He’s too brutally honest to lie. I think if he were married he’d tell me upfront.”

“So what do you think it is?”

I shake my head. “I have no idea. I just know that it’s something, and whatever it is keeps him here. That it’s the reason he dropped off the face of the earth and works at a bar instead of cooking like he’s meant to.”

Jillian sighs. “But he won’t tell you.”

“Nope. He’s not going to let me in, Jilly.”

“So what are your options?” This is why Jillian is my best friend in the entire world. She asks the question and supports whatever I want to do. Just like I do with her.

“I know what I should do.” I just don’t want to.

“Start there. Tell me what you think you should do.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. “I should tap out, admit defeat, come home, and start working on finding another chef to work with for my new venture. It’s the only reasonable option, because the truth is, it is already too late to work with Jackson professionally. Even if he wasn’t hiding something, if I could get him to agree, the way it is between us…” I shake my head, remembering our straining bodies moving across the bed, desperate to get closer. “There’s no way we could be professional. There’s too much chemistry. His cooking is my only reason for coming here, and as much as I’d like to pretend otherwise, that’s not an option. So I should be smart and come home, right?”

“Sure.” Her response is noncommittal and frustrating.

I’m not sure what I’m hoping for her to say, what I want her to tell me. I try again. “What reason is there for me to stay?”

“Because you want to?”

And there it is. It’s exactly what I want to do.

“I do.” A tear slips down my cheek. “But for what purpose? He’s going to break my heart, Jillian.”

“Is that the worst thing in the world?” Jillian is no stranger to lost causes, it’s one of the things we have in common. That and gritty, single-minded determination. She’s married to her lost cause, so I understand why she thinks I should fall.

I blow out a long breath. “It’s not like you and Leo. There is no chance for a happy ending.”

“We thought that about Leo too, remember?”

I grind my teeth. “We did. But you lived in the same city. Have the same friends. And he was already half in love with you before he caved.”

“How do you know Jackson’s not half in love with you too? You’re pretty irresistible, Gwenie.” Her voice rings with her fondness for me.

Tired of pacing, I flop down on the bed. “I don’t think Jackson is capable of loving me, no matter how much I want him to.”

How could he with the coldness in his eyes?

There’s a long silence over the phone. “Are you going to come home?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“You always have a choice.”

I want to stay. More than anything I want to stay. To be with him for as long as I can until I have to go home. But it’s not smart. I’m not going to change his mind. He’s not going to move to Chicago and come work for me. Even without his secret I know him now—there is no way he’d ever work for me—to his point, we’re equals.

Being his boss is not something he’ll ever be okay with. It’s time to cut my losses and start new, with someone else.

And then there’s the matter of my heart.

I have never backed down from a challenge in my life. I take risks. I love risks.

But the price is too high. There are some things in this life I refuse to settle for and a man that only wants me for sex is one of them. Being on my own has never bothered me, and I decided a long time ago I’d never be happy with comfortable love. I want what Jillian has in Leo. Someone who loves and adores me unconditionally, someone who challenges me and pushes me, but is also unshakeable. Leo might be a hard-ass, but there’s nothing he won’t do for Jillian. Or she for him. They are completely and utterly in love and together. But more than that, they make each other better.

Jackson is never going to give me that.

So how can I allow myself to fall helplessly in love with him?

It’s not that I think it’s not possible to recover. But even if I leave right now, while I still have a shred of sanity, it’s going to take time. Every man I meet will be compared to him. How long will it take until he doesn’t overshadow everyone? Already the answer is too long.

Spending the next week and a half with him will only make it worse. It’s all risk and no reward. No pay off. Which isn’t smart, and I’m nothing if not smart.

All I’ll be doing is building a memory for some other, better guy to compete with.

I take a deep breath. “I’m going to come home.”

It’s best to know when you’re beat.

And I am.

I might be tired, have bags under my eyes, blotchy skin, and a heavy heart, but I’ve made sure Jackson will never know.

As I walk up the steps to Beau’s I have my game face on.

Like I don’t have a care in the world, I stroll through the door, shoulders back, head high. I’m going to work this shift, and whatever shifts I need to. As a business owner I can’t leave Beau in a lurch, but I’m telling him today he’ll need to find someone else.

The older man is behind the bar, washing down the counter, and he looks up at my arrival. He flashes me a smile. “Hey, red.”

My throat closes and I wave, not trusting my voice at the moment. Unable to help it, I look around for Jackson, but I don’t see him.

Nor did I see his motorcycle in the parking lot.

My longing to see him reaffirms I’m making the right choice. That I’m doing the right thing.

With gritted teeth, I walk down the hall and throw my stuff in the office before returning to the bar.

The second I reach the open space, my eyes search the room, as though Jackson might emerge from the wood or something ridiculous.

It’s still empty.

“He’s not here.” Beau’s voice startles me and I jerk my head.

Jackson’s supposed to work today. My heart sinks. He’s running. While it should make it easier, it doesn’t. It makes the loss all the more acute. I clear my throat. “Where is he?”

“He won’t be in.”

My stomach turns. I swallow. I’d known going in this would happen. I will not cry. Not in front of Beau. I nod. “Okay.”

Beau’s gaze narrows and he points to a stool. “Sit down.”

I’d fight, but don’t have the energy. My head pounding, I sit.

He takes a glass and a bottle and pours me two fingers before pushing it toward me. “Drink it.”

“I’ve got to work.” My voice shakes.

“One won’t kill you.”

I shrug and down it in one gulp. It burns in my throat, and when the liquid fire hits my stomach, my eyes fill with tears. Goddamn it. I put the glass on the bar. I look at Beau with a watery gaze and spit out the words I least want to say. “I think I should go back home.”

He puts his hands on the bar. “Why’s that?”

“He’s not going to come work for me and that’s the only reason I came here.”

Beau is silent for a minute, looking out the window. “Will you work tonight? I’ll get you covered for the rest, but if you can manage tonight, I’d appreciate it.”

I scoff and look out the window, shaking my head at my own ridiculousness. “I’ll work tonight.”

He knocks on the counter. “Thanks.”

“Tomorrow if you need me.”

“It will be okay, I have someone who can help out.”

My stomach sinks and I repress the urge to have a complete breakdown just to get it out of my system.

I blow out a breath and admit the truth to Beau. “I wanted you to stop me. To tell me you needed me and I couldn’t leave.”

“I know you did.” Beau scrubs his hand over his jaw. “Did Jackson tell you I was in love with his mom?”

I don’t understand the change in subject, but I appreciate the distraction away from my heartache. I shake my head. “No. He won’t talk about his family.”

Beau tilts his head and his expression turns sad. “My brother, Jackson’s father, was a real son of a bitch, but Melody loved him no matter what he did, no matter who he slept with, how late he came home, or how mean he got. She was blind when it came to him.”

“I’m sorry.” I don’t know what else to say.

“Me too. I fell for her the first day I met her.” He picked up a rag and smiled. “Jackson looks like her.”

“That explains some things.” My voice trembles and I push my glass forward.

He refills it without me having to ask. “She was like an angel, and even though she was my brother’s I couldn’t help myself. One look at her and I was lost. I didn’t let on. I did all the things I was supposed to do at that age. I went out with other women, slept with lots of them, even had a few relationships, but none of them could hold a candle to her.” He meets my gaze. “Some people just reach inside and won’t let go, you know?”

Is that going to be me? Pining away for Jackson forty years from now? God I hope not, but the threat of it cements my reasons to go home.

He continues, pulling me away from my thoughts. “I spent all those years raising those kids like they were my own, giving them a male role model so they wouldn’t turn into versions of their father. Night after night, I sat at her table, drinking her coffee, gave her a shoulder to cry on when he didn’t come home, pretending her life was my own.”

I take a sip of my drink, and don’t speak. I just listen. I know where he’s going now, why he’s telling me this. His story is why he’s not asking me to stay. Because he’s walked in my shoes and knows it leads to nowhere good.

As he talks, he starts wiping down the bar. “Jackson doesn’t know this, but about a month after his dad took off for good, I slept with her. She was sad and lost and we’d had too much to drink. We ended up in bed. It was the best night of my life.” He pauses, shakes his head. “You know what she said to me the next morning?”

“What?” Although I already know.

“That it was a mistake. That when he came back that he could never know.” He laughs and it’s a hard bite. “It was a hard fucking lesson, red, one I tried hard to learn. I set my mind to moving on. I met a nice girl that wanted to love me and I wanted to love back. I wanted a life, wanted to know what it was like to be with a woman that thought I was the one. I distanced myself from Melody. I made sure to keep the kids out of trouble but stopped going over there pretending she was mine.”

“What happened?”

He shrugged. “I was an idiot. Melody called me late one night, upset and crying so I went to her.”

“And you slept with her again?”

He smiles. “I was weak where she was concerned.”

I could relate. Which was the point. “What happened to your lady friend?”

“I let her go. I didn’t love her, but I liked her enough I didn’t want her to suffer the same fate. She deserved to be with someone who thought she was the one. I’m pleased to say she had a happy ending. Got married, had four kids and lives over in the next town with a devoted husband. I can rest easy that I did the right thing.”

She probably didn’t know how lucky she was at the time, although I bet she does now.

I hope someday I’ll be able to say the same.

I tilt my head. “What happened with Melody?”

A shadow crosses over his handsome features. “Until she got sick we lived out the same cycle. We slept together. I drank her coffee and ate her cookies. Helped her raise my brother’s kids. I pretended and she let me. We were endlessly caught in our destructive cycle. She loved a man that was never coming back and I loved a woman that would never love me, no matter how much I wanted her. I had her body, but never her heart. It wasn’t enough, but I didn’t know how to let go.”

“That must have been hard.”

“When she died, the last thing she said to me was that she wished it was me.” He shrugs and throws the towel into the sink. “I guess that was my consolation prize. Not that I was, but that she wished I was.”

I don’t like Jackson’s dead mother right now, who in some ways was just as selfish as his dad, but I’m not about to speak ill of her. Not when I haven’t walked in her shoes.

Doing the right thing is always the easy choice when peering into someone else’s life.

I take a sip. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” Beau meets my eyes. “I see how you look at him, red. That’s why I’m not telling you to stay.”

“I know.” I bite my bottom lip. “He’s never going to change, is he?”

“No.”

My heart cracks a bit more. “I’ll leave in the morning.”

He takes my hand. “Here’s your consolation prize, even though it’s a small one. I’m going to miss you. You’re like a ray of sunshine during these dark days.”

I plant my feet on the railing and rise up to lean over the bar, kissing Beau on the cheek. “It’s not small at all. It’s everything.”

“You’re a good girl, Gwen.” He squeezes me tight for one second.

“Thank you, Beau. I’m going to miss you too.” He releases me and I slide back down on the stool, take another sip to steady my nerves.

I don’t ask, about the dark days, even though I want to. Because I understand now, that no matter how fond Beau is of me, his loyalty lies with Jackson. The closest thing to a son he’s ever going to have. He’s not going to betray his secrets.

But this conversation has made my path crystal clear.

It’s time to say goodbye.

I frown. I don’t even have Jackson’s phone number. I don’t know where he lives or how to contact him. I look at Beau, and sympathy shines in his eyes. I swallow hard. “Will you tell him?”

He nods. “I will.”

I won’t even have to suffer through a goodbye.

I can just disappear from his life as though I never wandered through these doors.

As though I never tasted this place, or him.

I suppose that’s something.