The walls press in on me. The tall windows, with their view of the Manhattan skyline, feel cold and stark. More like ice than glass. This office, which once felt like my sanctuary, now feels like my prison.

“Your coffee,” Georgia says timidly, placing the cup carefully on my desk. She’s armed with a two-inch stack of napkins — probably remembering the last time she was in my office, when she spilled coffee all over the floor. Joke’s on her this time — I couldn’t give a shit about the coffee. I don’t even bother saying thank you, just wave her away dismissively.

Everything about being here at the office reminds me of Blake. Every time I hear a pair of women’s heels clacking on the lacquered floor of the hallway, there’s a brief moment where I can believe that Blake’s perky face, her messy blonde braid, is going to appear at my door. Then some other woman walks by, laughing in a high-pitched way or glancing nervously towards me as she picks up the pace. Every time it’s not Blake, my mood plummets. And since it’s never going to be Blake again, let’s just say my attitude’s been in the shitter.

Christine had offered to find me another assistant — an actual guy this time, the way Ed had directed me to do in the first place — but I’d brushed off her suggestion. I don’t want another assistant. I want Blake.

Only Blake.

Always Blake.

Instead, I got Georgia. Georgia, who seems to be afraid of me and can’t even look me in the eye. Georgia, who still always smells vaguely of menthol. I can hear her outside my office now, noisily unwrapping cough drops.

I run my hands through my hair and try to focus on my laptop. I’ve barely been in the office these past few weeks, although I’ve still managed to get a few things done. All things that the board will be monumentally pleased with, no doubt. I’ve closed the deal with the government of the Northwest Territories. Bought out a mining company in Botswana, one everyone said couldn’t be bought. Secured a government partnership in South America, a new avenue for us.

Six months from now, Cartwright Diamonds is going to be rolling in profits. More profits than the board could have dreamed about.

And I don’t give a fuck. Not a single, solitary fuck.

There’s only one thing I care about right now. One person. Well, two, really. Blake … and our baby.

Every day, I wake up thinking that today is the day I’m going to feel like my old self again, but I’m still reeling from her revelations. And so, every day, I’m still sitting across the table from her, in that little cafe where the air was too hot and everything smelled like cinnamon. My life changed in a heartbeat once before. I never expected it to happen a second time. But in the blink of her pretty blue eyes, Blake changed everything on me.

Of course, I’d asked her to marry me. I would have asked her, anyway, even without the baby, probably in a few months time. I know deep down that I’m in love with her. There’s no coming back from that kind of love. I’m finished.

But then she’d said no. And I couldn’t bring myself to say the three little words that might have made her reconsider. Why couldn’t I just tell her that I loved her? I wanted to. The words were there, bubbling up inside me. But every time I tried to say them, they stayed stuck in my throat.

To be honest, I’m fucking terrified. From day one, things with Blake have been different. I never feel like I’m on solid ground when I’m with her, but rather like I’m being shot into the deepest recesses of the known universe. Maybe while riding in a mangled cardboard box with fuel canisters duct-taped to the side.

I feel unmoored when I’m with her, and the way I love her is like the universe. It’s like the stars in the sky. It’s deep and terrifying and unknowable.

The way I’d loved Laura wasn’t anything like that. It was simple. I was in my early twenties when we met, already being groomed to take over for my father, and love meant finding someone compatible, someone of the right pedigree, someone I could show off at fundraising dinners and at the country club.

I would never dishonor her memory by saying I didn’t love her — because I did, in my way. I’m sure of that. As much as I was capable of loving someone when I was that blithe golden boy, untouched by tragedy.

But what I felt then is nothing compared to what I feel now. To the unfathomable skies of my love for Blake. How can I tell her I love her when I barely understand it myself? How can I tell her I love her when I have no idea what’s at the edges of this universe?

Her news had shocked me. To the core. And in that moment, the universe rippled. I was back there again, hearing some hook-nosed doctor tell us that Laura was dying. A baby is nothing like finding out you have cancer, of course. When I step back to think about it, I’m downright delighted at the thought of being a father. But that isn’t the point. The point was the shock of it. I wanted my control back. But there’s no controlling Blake. There’s no controlling life, it seems.

Which is why everything feels different since I got back from Connecticut. It’s like walking on land after being in zero gravity for weeks. My legs don’t feel acclimated to solid ground. Everything seems too hard. Too landlocked.

Stunted. I think of Heather’s word for me. I guess she was right.

I keep thinking that if I could just talk to Blake, I could make things right. Make her see that I’m at least trying to do the right thing. I’ve tried calling. Texting. Emailing. Three days after I got back to the city, I got her work phone Fed Ex-ed to me here at the office. All of my messages were still marked as unread. The handwriting on the envelope was hers. I still have it, tucked into the top drawer of my desk. How fucking pathetic is that?

Things haven’t been pretty since then. I’m not going to sugarcoat it. I’m not the kind of guy to spend my time moping, but damn if I haven’t been watching a lot of the shopping network and eating cold cereal. Drinking too much scotch and sleeping too late. Not working.

Ed called me earlier this week and told me it was time to get back to work, that the board was getting nervous about my extended absence. That’s the only reason I’m here now. I might not know what to do about Blake, but I definitely know how to handle my board.

This time, though, I’m not going through Ed. I’m going straight to the rabble-rouser himself.

Georgia pokes her head into my office. “Ray Kellerman is here to see you.”

Perfect timing. “Thank you, Georgia. Send him in.”

She looks relieved at having escaped her encounter with me unscathed. She nods furiously and then disappears again. A minute later, Ray strolls into my office.

“Logan, good to see you.” He reaches a hand out, and I ignore it. I’m in no mood to make nice. He’s the reason I’m in this mess in the first place. Okay, maybe that’s a stretch — but if it wasn’t for him, I might not have accidentally hired Blake, thinking she was a guy.

Like I said, it’s a stretch. But I’m pissed, and Ray seems like an easy target for that anger. I’ve never liked the guy or his stupid face. Too jowly. Too much like a bulldog.

Ray quickly withdraws his hand, trying to brush off the slight. “Busy man. I get it. What is it you wanted to see me about?”

I pin him with a glare, one that probably makes his dick sweat turn to ice. “I run this company, Ray. I run it well. If you have a problem with that, I will gladly relieve you of your position on this board.”

Ray throws his hands up, a look of surprise on his face. “Hey, no arguments here. Love what you’re doing with the place. Profits are at an all-time high. What the hell would I have to complain about?”

“That’s what I was wondering.”

Ray looks truly confused. “Logan, I’m sorry. I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Really? That’s not what I heard. I heard you were whipping the board into a frenzy, telling everyone that my personal life was going to get the company in trouble.”

Ray scratches his head. “Why the hell would I care what you do with your personal life? Long as the quarterly reports look good, I’m a happy man.”

It’s my turn to look confused. Ray isn’t the most trustworthy person I know, but he’s also not the best liar. Right now, the way he’s rubbing his jowls, I don’t know — I believe him.

I slide down into my chair, my anger temporarily abated. “So, you weren’t threatening to leave? Take half the board with you?”

He chuckles. “Hell no. Who the hell cares what you do in your spare time?”

Who, indeed. I rub my chin. I’d shaved for the first time in weeks before coming in to the office, and the nearly-bare skin catches me by surprise. I blink up at Ray. “Who, indeed,” I muse again.

When I get to Ed’s place, I have the doorman ring me up. I ride the elevator up to the twelfth floor, already mentally rehearsing the shit-talking I’m going to give him. I’ll make him tell me the truth. I don’t know how, yet, but I will.

Ed opens the door right away and ushers me in. He’s wearing a silk robe of some kind, and seeing his bare legs make me feel strange. Guilty, somehow. They’re the legs of an old man — partly bowed, knobby at the knees. Before I even say anything, half the fight has gone out of me.

“What can I do for you, Logan?” He thrusts his hands down against his sides, but the robe doesn’t have pockets, so his hands just hang there limply.

“Why did you lie to me about Ray?”

He freezes. “What?”

“You lied to me. I talked to Ray today, and he claims he never had any intention of stepping down from the board. Said he didn’t give a shit, in fact, who I slept with or how I handled my personal business. Isn’t that interesting?”

“Logan, calm down. Let’s talk about this.” He glances nervously around the apartment and then ushers me down the hallway and into his den. He nudges me towards the deep brown leather Chesterfield, but I don’t feel like sitting down. Too much pent-up anger.

“I want an explanation, Ed,” I caution him. Ed is already pouring out two crystal tumblers of scotch. He hands one to me.

“Thanks,” I say grudgingly. “Macallans?”

“Of course. Is there anything else?”

I manage a grim smile and take a swallow, then a seat. I’ve known Ed so long — and this whole situation is so unexpected — that I’m willing to at least hear him out.

Satisfied, Ed sits down across from me and crosses his legs. I avert my eyes. That robe is seriously way too short.

“I suppose I owe you an explanation,” he says eventually. He sighs. “It never felt right to me, you know.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means —”

“Honey, what in the world is keeping you?” A woman’s voice comes from somewhere in the apartment, and my face flames red. No wonder Ed’s in his robe. I must have interrupted something. I almost — almost — crack a smile.

“Are you coming back to bed?” The female voice purrs, before the woman herself comes around the corner.

“Mom!” I catapult myself off the sofa. My mother is standing there wearing a robe nearly identical to Ed’s. Her normally perfectly-coiffed hair is all mussed up, especially in the back, like ...

“Oh my God. I think I’m going to pass out.” I sit back down on the couch in a huff. Mom’s hand flies to her mouth. Her eyes dart nervously between Ed and me. “Does someone want to tell me what the hell is going on here?”

“I’m sorry you ... had to find out like this.” Mom flutters her eyelids at Ed, and he wordlessly gets up and pours her a drink. Gin and tonic — her favorite. How exactly does he know that?

My mother takes a hearty drink. With the aid of the liquid courage, she finally turns to face me. “I wanted to tell you, Logan. I really did. We both did. But then I didn’t want to make a big deal about it if it wasn’t anything, and then when it really turned into something, it felt like it had been going on for so long and it might be awkward to tell my children and...”

“Mom,” I cut her off. “Please. Can you just tell me what’s going on?”

It’s Ed that answers, instead. “Well, we’ve fallen in love, Logan. Your mother and I.”

I nearly spit out my scotch. “Wait, you … what?”

“It’s true,” Mom agrees. She wraps her hand around Ed’s. “I never thought it would happen for me again. You know how I loved your father so. But Ed has been so good to me over these last months and … my goodness. I feel like a girl again.” She actually giggles, and when she and Ed look at each other, I can see that it’s true. She’s in love with him. They’re in love with each other. It’s obvious in the secret smile they share, the way he runs his thumb over the back of her knuckles.

“Are you terribly upset, Logan?” Mom says, worriedly. “We really didn’t mean for you to find out like this.”

“I’m not upset,” I say, testing out the words and finding that, yes, it’s true. I’m not upset. I’m glad my mother’s happy. And Ed is a good man. Except for—

“Wait, we were talking about Ray Kellerman. Why did you lie to me about him leaving the board?”

Ed and my mother exchange another glance. What the hell is going on here?

Ed starts to speak, but Mom cuts him off. “That’s my fault.”

“What?” I stare at her incredulously. “What are you talking about?”

“I was worried about you. You seemed to be wasting your life, flitting from one floozie to the next. You didn’t seem to be happy. I wanted you to have something more. So I made Ed go see you.”

I push myself up off the couch. “Are you kidding me? This is insane. You let me think the company was in jeopardy? Why didn’t you just talk to me?”

“We tried talking to you,” she says plainly. “Your sister and I both. You didn’t want to hear it. It seemed like the only way to get your attention was if it affected the business. That’s the only thing you care about.”

“It’s not,” I say, but the energy has left me. I let myself sink back down onto the couch. “It’s not the only thing I care about. At least, not now.”

And then, even though I don’t mean to, I find myself telling them everything. About Blake, about the baby, about how I’d managed to ruin everything. It feels good to talk about it, even if they don’t do anything but make sympathetic murmuring noises. I can tell Mom is excited about the idea of another grandbaby, although she’s tactful enough to not let it show just yet.

By the time I finish, we’ve all reached the bottom of our drinks, and Ed gets up to prepare another round.

“You know, after your father died, I told myself I’d never be with another man,” Mom says. She pulls her robe tighter around her. It’s dark out now, but there’s a fire crackling here in the den, and it’s rather pleasant.

“Mom, you don’t have to —”

“No, Logan, listen. I thought I’d never be with another man. I thought I’d never want to. I loved your father so much. But life is a very long book. Well, if we’re lucky, it’s long. You don’t stop reading just because you didn’t like how one chapter ended. You can’t judge it until you’ve reached the very end of the story. You have so many chapters left, Logan. So many pages left to fill. And the story can be so wonderful, if you let it. I thought my whole story would be written with your father — but it turns out life had a couple of surprise chapters in store for me.” Mom pauses to dab at her eyes. “Just promise me you’ll keep reading to the end. Please, Logan? Promise me you will.”

My throat feels tight. “I promise.”

We sit in silence, watching the fire die out and sipping our drinks as the pages turn, blown away like leaves in the wind.

That night, at home, I drown my sorrows in scotch. Too much scotch, probably, if we’re being honest, here. So when Heather calls, I’m already quite a few sheets to the wind.

“I talked to Mom,” she says, instead of a greeting.

“Oh?” I grit my teeth.

“She told me about her and Ed.”

“Right.” I let out a breath. That.

“She said you caught them together this afternoon.” I can hear her trying not to laugh. “That must have been horrible.”

I manage a laugh myself. “It could have been worse. Still, seeing our mother with sex hair was definitely something I could have lived without.”

“Oh God.” Heather squeals, a very un-Heather-like sound. “I can’t even.”

“I know.”

“Well,” she says after a minute. “I’m glad she’s happy. Did she seem happy?”

“Yeah, she did,” I muse. “And I’m happy for her, too.”

“She also told me what happened with the board. I’m sorry she interfered that way, Logan. I think she feels terrible.”

“Yeah, well.” What else is there to say to that?

“Are you going to go see Blake?”

“Go see her? Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re madly in love with her?”

“Yes, well, she’s made her feelings on that perfectly clear.” I over annunciate the words to the point that I sound like a real twat, but I don’t care.

“Logan, she’s just scared,” Heather huffs.

“Scared?” For a second, I’m genuinely surprised. “What would she have to be scared of? I could give her everything.”

“That’s what she’s scared of, dummy.”

“Hey now,” I chide, but my mind is turning her words around and around. “Can you elaborate on this, please?”

“God, for such a smart man, you can be so slow sometimes.” On the other end of the phone, Heather sighs. “She’s scared of you, Logan. You have everything. Including a dead fiancee, I might add. No disrespect to Laura, of course, but it’s hard to compete with a dead fiancee. And then when you do something like accidentally get pregnant... I don’t know. I just think, if I were in her shoes, I’d be burying my head in the sand, too.”

“When have you ever buried your head in the sand?”

“You know what I mean. She’s just overwhelmed. She needs to know you’re all in with her. That all that other stuff doesn’t matter, that you love her enough to make all that other stuff irrelevant.”

My mind is reeling. My feelings for Blake terrified me, but it had never occurred to me that she might be scared, too. Which seems … incredibly stupid, now that Heather has pointed it out. Pregnant and alone, and me too wrapped up in my own personal tragedy to be there for her. Of course she’d be scared. It’s just so hard to picture Blake as anything less than the firecracker she normally projects. Somehow, I’d let this pint-sized pixie become my rock, without being man enough to do the same for her. The thought fills me with a wordless shame.

“You still there?” Heather asks.

“I’m still here. I’m just thinking.”

“Well, I hope you’re thinking about how to make this right.”

“I am. Got any brilliant ideas for me, since you seem to be so smart all of a sudden?”

Heather chuckles. “Well, you’re on your own for that one. But I think if you speak from the heart, you might figure it out.”