When Emily awoke, it took several moments for her mind to make sense of her unfamiliar surroundings. Where her bedroom was cramped and in desperate want of decoration, this bedroom was airy and spacious and felt distinctly homey. It also clearly didn't have any preschool aged interlopers based on the lack of toys and general chaos that Emily was used to.

As she surveyed the room, her gaze landed on her discarded underwear and the previous night's events all came rushing back to her and she could feel her face heat up with embarrassment. God, how could she have let this happen?

Derek was nowhere to be seen, which meant that she had a brief window in which to escape before he noticed that she was awake.

No sooner had she had that thought, though, when the door creaked open and Derek stepped through the doorway with a tray of breakfast in his hands. "Good morning, Princess," he greeted, sure to keep his voice low, his smile soft.

"Morning," she replied in a groan, pushing herself to sit up, taking the sheet with her to cover her naked body. She combed her hair out of her face with her hand, fingers catching in the post-coital tangles, while she waited for him to say something further.

For his part, though, he simply stood motionless in the threshold, staring at her almost breathlessly, the only conscious thought in his head was that she looked breathtaking in that moment, without a mask between her and the outside world.

She cleared her throat to remind him that he still hadn't spoken, raising a brow in silent question as to what he wanted.

"Oh. Right!" He shook himself back to awareness. "I, umm...I made you breakfast," he announced, crossing the room to set the tray in her lap. "I know you loved Mama's pancakes – these aren't quite as good, but it's her recipe, so..." He shrugged.

She offered a faint smile of thanks, but she wasn't sure she could actually stomach anything just then. Mostly because this was not her MO. She didn't stay the night after sex – instead, she got dressed and put as much distance between herself and the other person as possible...she didn't do intimacy. And she was afraid that somehow staying for breakfast would make Derek think there was more to this than there really was. She didn't want to hurt his feelings because he was, in fact, a good guy. She just wasn't a nice girl.

Derek seemed blissfully unaware of Emily's racing thoughts and desperate attempts to think of an escape plan, based on the way he settled on the bed next to her, snatching a strawberry off her plate and popping it in his mouth.

"Do you want to do something before work?" he suggested suddenly and he seemed almost awkward and maybe even shy about it. "Like maybe grab dinner together?" He shrugged offhandedly, as if it were a random suggestion and not his attempt at asking her on a date.

Emily's brows shot up her forehead. "You mean..." She needed to hear him say the word, but still partly hoping she was wrong in her assumption.

"I mean like...well, a date?" he finished for her.

She winced as if he'd physically struck her. With a sigh, she glanced at her lap where she was nervously picking at her nails.

He didn't miss her sudden reticence. "Did I say something wrong?" he asked.

"Derek," she said, wishing she were just about anywhere else in that moment, "You're a great guy. You have a big heart and you genuinely care about people – maybe too much – which is why I can't do this to you."

"I-I don't understand," he said, shaking his head slowly. "Do what?"

She attempted a reassuring smile. "Maybe there's something between us, but..."

He interrupted, "Em, there is something between us. Don't tell me you didn't feel it last night. Don't lie to me. Don't lie to yourself."

"But," she pressed, "I can't afford to be distracted right now. All my time and energy has to be focused on getting Jayde back because she is the only thing that matters right now."

"We can do it together," he started to insist.

She didn't let him finish, though. "I just don't think that CPS is going to think the best solution right now is to bring a strange man – someone else who works at the club, by the way – into the picture, even someone as genuinely good as you. I'm sure you get what I'm saying," she said, trying to be gentle. "It's not you, it's me."

A moment of silence followed in which he shot her a dubious look at the overused expression.

"I know, it's an awful cliche, but I promise you, it's the truth."

With a sigh, he ran a hand over the back of his head. "What am I supposed to do now, Em?" he asked, sounding almost broken. "As much as I get what you're saying...I can't just pretend that I don't have feelings for you. Please, Em, don't ask me to do that. Don't ask me to lie to myself, to pretend. Don't ask me to forget last night because it was one of the best nights of my life and..."

"You're going to have to," she insisted. "Because you and I...it can't happen again." She leaned in to kiss his cheek in apology, then climbed out of bed and began dressing. She didn't turn to look at him, knew that if she were to see what was sure to be a heart-rending expression of heartbreak on his face, she might fall apart completely and she just couldn't afford to fall apart right now.

She had to glue and tape and patch and spackle herself back together right now and pray like hell that the pieces held because without her daughter, she crumbled. Without Jayde, she was nothing but a pile of slowly dying embers. A pile of wreckage that was once a monument to her love for the incredible little person she'd created.

She could already feel herself breaking.