“I’m sorry, Pierce. But those are your options.”
As I walk back to my office, the victory over James feelsmeaningless now. We won the corporate battle, but I’m about to face an impossible choice.
My phone buzzes with a message from Thatcher.
Thatcher:
The meeting went amazingly! Can’t wait to tell you everything. How did your board meeting go today?
I stare at the text, the weight of what I have to ask him crushing my chest. Tonight, I’m going to have to choose between his happiness and mine. Between his dreams and our future.
I type back.
Pierce:
Tell me everything over dinner. My place, seven p.m.? I have something important to discuss too. I’ll send you the address.
His response is immediate.
Thatcher:
Can’t wait
The heart emoji makes my chest ache with the knowledge that I might be about to break both our hearts. Tonight, I’m going to ask him to choose between the job he loves and the man who loves him.
And I have no idea which one he’ll pick.
27
THATCHER
Pierce’s apartmentbuilding is everything I expected: elegant, expensive, the kind of place where door attendants wear actual uniforms and the lobby marble probably costs more than my yearly rent. The elevator rises smoothly to the fifteenth floor, so different from the rickety one in my building that sounds like it’s planning its own death.
When Pierce opens the door, he’s already changed out of his suit into dark jeans and a soft gray sweater, and I love that it makes him look younger, more approachable, more like the man I love.
But it’s the apartment behind him that steals my breath, and I’m not sure it’s in a good way.
Everything is monochrome. Black leather furniture, white walls, charcoal rugs spread across dark hardwood floors. It’s sophisticated and expensive and completely devoid of color, like stepping into a magazine spread titled:How Rich People Live.
“Wow,” I breathe, taking in the space. “This is very…um…”
Pierce follows my gaze, seeming to see his own apartment through my eyes. “Clinical?”
“No, it’s beautiful. Just very…” I search for the right word. “Controlled. Organized. Like you’ve eliminated anything that might cause chaos.”
“I used to think that was what I wanted,” he says, closing the door behind me. “Perfect order, everything in its place.”
“Used to?”
His smile is soft as he steps closer. “Then you showed up with your rainbow sticky notes and turned everything upside down. Now I realize the only way I see any color in my life is when you’re in it.”
The words make my chest tight with emotion. “Pierce…”
“When I kiss you,” he continues, his hands finding my waist. “You make everything more alive.”
I melt into him as his lips find mine, the kiss soft and deep and full of everything we can’t say at work. His apartment fades away, the monochrome perfection becoming irrelevant when all I can focus on is the warmth of his mouth, the way his hands tangle in my hair like he’s afraid I might disappear.
We finally separate, both breathing heavily.
