Every time I close my eyes, I see him standing out there on the lawn again, watching me go with the hurt of a broken heart in his eyes. I thought it would be easier this way. I thought I was sparing him. If I’d stayed, if I’d let him say he loved me again, if I’d let myself whisper it back, then how much worse would it be now?

Because I did have to leave.

That’s what I keep telling myself. All throughout the next day, as I go through the motions. I go to work, I plaster on a stupid, vapid smile and attempt to act like the happiest Party Princess to ever grace the earth. For the kids’ sake. But even they don’t seem fooled. At my party that day, the birthday girl came over to hand me a piece of cake herself and said, “Cake is good for princesses. It makes the sad go away.”

I laughed at that, but it sounded fake even to me.

God, I’m so pathetic that even small children are able to sense how devastated I feel. This is not good. Especially not if I really am choosing my job over Killian right now. How much longer will I keep this job if I start getting reviews like “She was really depressed and trying not to cry for the whole party”?

I saw Tricia at the office, but only in passing. Part of me wanted to slap her. Instead, I forced a way-too-big smile, and she beamed back at me, her eyes sharp and knowing. Like she understands exactly how deep she’s cutting me, and she’s enjoying it.

But all she actually says to me is “Good morning” and “Hope you’re having a good day.” So I just said it right back and then watched her sail past into another meeting, before I headed off to this party.

I guess that smile and greeting must mean I still have my job though, right? It must mean Killian told her things are off between us.

Are things off?

He texted me this morning. Nothing elaborate, just a simple, Miss you. Then he texted me again, while I was in the middle of work, saying I wish we could talk.

I wish we could too. But I don’t even know what I would say to him right now.

What do I want? I stare into the mirror when I get home that night, while I’m trying my best to scramble out of my party gown without any help from my roommate, since Jayne is out late with some other friends tonight. They invited me to go along, but I feigned a stomach bug, and even though Jayne’s pointed look told me she wasn’t buying it, she didn’t press. She’s just that kind of friend. She knows that when I’m ready to talk, I’ll talk, and until then, prying is pointless.

I turn back and forth in the mirror, dressed in saggy PJs, and I tell myself this is for the best. If Killian and I tried to stay together, tried to make things work, I have no doubt that on top of firing me, Tricia would make his life a living hell. And I refuse to do that to him—to make his life worse. Or his daughter’s.

The thought of Lina sends another pang to my gut. The last thing I’d want is for her to get caught up in all of this. To be forced to choose between her parents all over again, if this blew up into a bigger fight—and to judge by Tricia’s reaction to me and Killian getting together, I’m sure it would.

No. I love Killian, I’m sure about that now—after a day and more to think on it, I recognize the ache in my chest, the pang whenever I think about driving away from him, leaving him stranded on that front lawn.

But because I love him, I need to be strong. I need to stick to my guns about walking away. I need to make his life, and Lina’s life, that much less complicated.

So I go to bed early, and I pretend to sleep right through Jayne’s stumbled footsteps and her light knock on my door. And all night, I stare up at my ceiling, steeling myself for what I know I need to do in the morning.

* * *

I head straight to Ms. Connery’s office first thing. She’s on a phone call when I arrive, but I catch her eye through the glass paneling and she nods in a way that lets me know she sees me. While I wait, I make coffee, just for something to do with my hands. I don’t think I’ll actually be able to drink it—I’m too jittery. That much caffeine would send me straight over the edge.

Finally, I hear her end her phone call and ask for me, voice raised just high enough to be heard over the distant sounds of construction, taking place on the far side of the building now. I take another deep breath, just to brace myself. But my heart is still racing as I step into her office. All I can think about is the devastated look on Killian’s face as I drove away from him yesterday. The texts he’s sent me since, which I’ve deleted because the urge to reply to them and reassure him was so strong.

You’re doing this for him, I remind myself. For both him and Lina. They don’t need me complicating their lives.

“Ms. Connery?” I linger in the doorway.

She smiles at me, big and wide. “Please, you can call me Tricia, Tilly. I think we’re at the first-name stage by now.”

I hesitate another moment. Something feels off. She looks way too happy right now, and it’s making my stomach curdle. Still, I step into the office and shut the door behind me. “I wanted to talk to you about—”

“Our mutual interest?” she interrupts, a single eyebrow lifted.

I press my lips together, then force myself to nod. “I spoke to Killian yesterday. He… told me everything. Ms. Conn—Tricia, I didn’t know who he was, I had no idea he was your ex—”

She lifts a hand to stop me in my tracks. “I know, Tilly. And I’d like to keep it that way. I don’t advertise my personal life or air my dirty laundry in public, so please don’t mention him to anyone else in the company.”

My cheeks flare bright red, but I shake my head. “I won’t.”

She sighs. “And I know you weren’t aware of who he was at the time. If I’d thought he was going to try something as despicable and desperate as hitting on the help, I would have warned you before you went to that party, and for that, I apologize.” She has her lips pursed in distaste now, and I can’t help defending him.

“It wasn’t like that. I mean, he wasn’t creepy or anything.”

“Be that as it may,” she speaks over me, as though I didn’t say a word, “We still need to decide what to do moving forward.”

“Right.” I squeeze my eyes shut, and tighten my fists at my sides. My nails, where they dig into my palms, are a sharp reminder of what I came here to do. “I’m going to stop seeing him. I don’t want to get in anyone’s way or create drama, and I definitely wouldn’t want to strain your relationship with your daughter, or his. It seems like the best choice for everyone.”

“And the best choice for your career as well,” Tricia points out, a single eyebrow lifted. She’s smiling, but it’s a dangerous look, like a cat that just cornered a mouse. “I’m pleased you’re coming to your senses, Tilly. I knew you had a strong work ethic, but this really shows you’re able to go above and beyond in pursuit of your career. I admire that in a woman.”

I clear my throat, uncomfortable. “It’s not just about my career,” I start to say, but like usual, she’s already talking as if I hadn’t spoken.

“Unfortunately,” she says, “things aren’t quite so simple anymore. You want to retain your job here with me, correct?” She tilts her head forward.

I frown, confused. “Yes. If it’s possible.”

“And you’d still like me to set up that meeting with my illustrator contact—who wrote to me this morning, by the way, about finding a time the two of you could sit down and talk.”

My heart leaps. “Yes, I still want to meet her. That would be…” I shake my head. “I’m interested. But, Ms. Conn—Tricia…”

“I’m glad to hear that, Tilly, because I still want to help you too. It’s just that I need a little something more from you now.” She leans forward, elbows on her desk, eyes narrowed.

I take an involuntary step backward, worried.

“You’re in the perfect position to help me. Just like I’m in the perfect position to help you,” she says.

I don’t like where this is heading. Not at all. But I feel trapped in here, in this glass-walled office that everyone else in the company can see straight into. I just gave up Killian for my career. Can I really turn around and walk away now, just because I feel uncomfortable? “Wh-with what?” I manage.

“I want custody of my daughter. Full time. Killian stole her from me, and I want to make him pay, the way he’s made me suffer.” Tricia stands slowly, fists balled, her jaw clenched. But her fury isn’t directed at me. I realize that now. She’s staring at a photograph on her desk, and if I lean forward, I can see from the reflection in the glass behind her what it’s a picture of. It’s her and Killian, with Lina cradled between them, probably a year old, maybe less.

“I want him to feel as depressed and worthless and cruel as he made me feel. I want him to know what it’s like to lose your daughter, to lose your partner, to lose everything you have in the world.” Her voice rises higher, and I cringe involuntarily back against the door. The motion catches her eye, and she glances at me, relaxing her shoulders a little. Then she runs a hand through her hair and sighs, shaking her head. “You don’t know what it’s been like…” Her voice cracks, and for a moment, I glimpse the real Tricia through that angry façade. The sad, broken woman underneath.

“Tricia…” I walk toward her, but she abruptly straightens and waves me off.

“So I need your help,” she tells me, tears shining in her eyes. “Will you do it?”

I clear my throat to buy myself time. I never asked Killian about his past—I never wanted to know. I figured we were both better off with a clean slate. But now… “What did he do that was so bad?” I ask. “To deserve so much anger?”

The pain darts across her face again, followed hard on its heels by anger. “He should have just forgiven me. All I asked for was a little understanding, a little leeway. Was that too much to ask for from my partner? My husband?” She shakes her head, scowling. “But no, he had to make it about him. Poor Killian. He was always blaming me for everything, like he never made mistakes, like he shat gold bricks.”

“Forgive you for what?” I ask, watching her closely. “I still don’t understand what happened. Did you do something, see someone else?”

Now she looks up, and her gaze sharpens when it finds mine. Damn. I’ve crossed a line. “Why do you care?” she spits. “It’s none of your business. And it shouldn’t matter to you what went on in the past. You’re here because you care about your future, right?” As she speaks, she builds back up that professional demeanor, the one she always wears. I understand now why she’s so obsessed with appearances, why she remains professional at all times, why she makes us all take so much training on how to be buttoned up and 100% about our careers like she is.

It’s because she’s trying to ignore everything else going wrong in her life. To focus on this one area where she excels.

“You want your book career, Tilly, don’t you?” she’s saying. She searches my eyes. “Then I need you to decide. Right now, right here. Decide what matters more to you. Some random older man who flirted with you inappropriately while you were on the job, or your future. Your career. The goal you’ve strived for your entire life.”

Suddenly I understand, all at once, what she means to do. She wants to turn this into a case against Killian. She wants to use me to get Lina back. To pretend he acted inappropriately when we got together, like he was just some older man creeping on a younger woman at the party.

I feel sick to my stomach.

But Tricia, she’s just smiling away. “You see how wrong it is, don’t you, what he did to you?” she says, voice lowering now, as if we’re sisters in this, as if we’re conspiring together. “You’re young, pretty, just trying to do your job… A job that involves working with children, no less. And here comes this man, who is old enough to know how to keep his hands to himself—a man with a daughter of his own, for that matter—trying to hit on you while you work?”

“It wasn’t like that,” I snap.

“You were dressed even younger than you look, you know, in that princess gown, all dolled up…”

My stomach churns in disgust. “Killian isn’t like that. What happened between us was between two consenting adults. Don’t twist this for your personal gain.”

“I thought you understood what mattered, Tilly.”

“I do.” I slam my chair back with force as I leap to my feet. Then I spin around and grab for the doorknob. “I understand exactly what matters. I need to make sure I never end up like you.” With that, I wrench open the office door and stride out.

“You’ll be back,” she calls after me. “Once you realize that you need this job; you need me. You’ll be back here groveling. See if I give you the time of day then.”

I let her words bounce off my back, fall harmlessly to the floor. Because at last, my eyes are wide open. I see what’s really going on here. I understand who Tricia is, better than ever.

There have been things Killian’s mentioned. Little things, just hints, never more, because he’s a gentleman, and he knows better than to bad-mouth the mother of his child, despite what she’s turned into since they parted ways. But he’ll say things about people who abandon their families, and once he went on a tirade for so long about people who cheat that I could practically feel the air blistering.

I understand exactly what happened now. Not the finer details, but the overall picture. Tricia cheated on Killian, and he refused to take her back after it. Now she’s trying to bring him down, to punish him for everything she lost through her own poor choices. But I won’t be like her. I won’t go down that same road.

Tricia is so willing to blame everyone else but herself, but in the end, she’s the one who did this to herself. She chose to cheat, to abandon Killian and Lina for whatever reason seemed right to her at the time. Now she doesn’t want to deal with the consequences, so she invents a way to blame the people around her.

I won’t be like that. I won’t be like her. I don’t care if it costs me my day job, the paychecks that keep me afloat right now. I don’t care if it means I might have to default on my next couple of loan payments. I don’t even care if she never introduces me to that artist friend of hers. I’ll find another way. I’ll find some new day job; I’ll find another artist on my own, someone who comes with no strings attached. I’ll keep doing what I’ve always done—working toward my goals and relying on myself the whole way.

There’s no way I’m going to jump into bed with a woman like Tricia. There’s no way I’ll stab Killian in the back, make up stories about him to try and steal his daughter away, all for the sake of his ex’s revenge plot.

My life is in my hands. The way it’s always been. I make my own decisions, and right now, I’m deciding this.

I want Killian.

The rest of it? Career, personal life, the bills I’ve got to pay… I’ll figure that out. I always do. But for now, in this situation, I’m choosing him. He’s worth it.

Weirdly, I feel lighter than I have all day. Better than I have since yesterday morning when he rolled over in bed and broke the news to me about Tricia. Because now I finally see things clearly. I know the path I need to take, and it’s not bowing to some angry, hurt ex-wife’s crazy demands.

The path I need is the one that leads me straight back to Killian’s door. So I beeline right out of the office, not even caring that Tricia trails after me shouting about how she’s removing me from the payroll, about how I need to bring my gown back right away or she’s charging me extra for that too. I ignore her as she screams about how she’ll tell her illustrator friend that I’m crazy, and she’ll have me blackballed from ever finding another illustrator in the publishing world again.

I ignore it all, slam my car door shut over the sound of her yells, and speed out of the parking lot.

As I do, I hit Killian’s number on speed dial.