Matt dropped me off in front of the loft, and I wondered briefly if I should invite him up. I even hesitated for a few seconds, and I think he felt the awkwardness as I ticked off the reasons not to and weighed them against the reasons I probably should. He bailed me out by saying, "I should be getting home. Early day tomorrow."

I was relieved. I smiled at him. "Thanks for letting me tag along with you tonight, Matt. I didn't want to show up solo."

"Yeah, those editors sure can throw a party. When tight asses cut loose, it's bound to be a good time."

I laughed easily. "I just can't believe some of the people I got to meet tonight. I mean, Garrett McConnell! And Jan Haverton, and Michael Barrett...wow. It's just... thanks for taking me with you."

"It's never too early in your career to start networking, Jo," he said. "I'm happy to help groom a rising star in the publishing biz. Besides, I could have done worse in the date department. Don't think it went unnoticed that I showed up with the most beautiful woman there."

I smiled and tucked my hair behind my ear, embarrassed by the compliment and grateful for the dimness inside the car so he couldn't see the blush that heated my face.

And then without warning, he leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. I was taken completely off guard by the gesture, and my blush deepened, probably enough to be visible even in the shadows. As he straightened up behind the wheel, he cleared his throat, and I thought that maybe he had even surprised himself. "Well..." he said. "I'll see you Monday?"

"Oh, yeah, sure. Good night, Matt." I got out and refrained from watching his car pull away from the curb. Instead, I fumbled for my key and entered the building. When I opened the door to the loft I shared with Pacey, it was pitch-black. And he was supposed to be at work. That's why I screamed when a voice spoke to me out of the darkness.

"How was it?"

I flicked the light switch by the door, my hand pressed to my heart, which had practically jumped out of my body at the shock. He was sitting on the kitchen counter drinking a beer. His eyes were direct, without a trace of the characteristic sparkle that was so much a part of him. Of what I loved about him.

"God, Pacey, you scared the hell out of me," I said. "I thought you had to close at the restaurant tonight." It occurred to me in some vague way that my rapid heartbeat might be the result of more than just the human-nature startle of having a voice speak to you when you thought you were alone. I brushed aside the not-quite-tangible thought enough to register that Pacey wasn't returning my smile.

I turned and hung my coat on the rack beside the door. My hand was shaking. Not that I had anything to be nervous about, but still ... things could be misinterpreted. And these days, with Pacey, they often were.

"I switched shifts with Carter so I could get off early. I was going to surprise you, take you to that dinner party. Where've you been?" The absolute lack of curiosity in that question made it perfectly clear that he already knew the answer, or at least had very strong suspicions. I made a conscious effort to make my hands be still.

"I've been at that dinner party," I said, trying to keep my tone light and casual but failing to sound completely like myself. I could see the fight coming, you see, and I hated that. I hated fighting with him. I especially hated fighting with him over this.

"You went with him." Again, not a question.

Fleetingly, I thought of lying to him. It would have been easy to say "No; what are you talking about?" or even "Who?" or "Don't be ridiculous." There might still be a way to bail out of this old fight before it got started again. I didn't lie, though. Lying would be like admitting that I had done something wrong. And I hadn't. I hadn't.

"Yes." My eyes held his firmly, refusing to look away even though his stare was hard and cold and unrelenting. It's strange how the same eyes that can make you melt with the warmth and power of the love they convey in a single look can also make you feel like sinking through the floor. That's what I wanted to do now ... sink through the floor and be done with this scene. But it was too late for that. I knew it was. It was all over his face.

When he didn't respond, I decided to go on, realizing even as I spoke that I sounded defensive. Defensiveness can indicate guilt. Not that I had anything to feel guilty about, mind you, but it might sound suspect to an unbiased third party.

"I had to go to this party, Pacey, it's very important to develop connections with the higher-ups if I'm ever going to get anywhere in this company. Matt just offered to be my escort. Just so I didn't have to go alone."

Still he stared at me with those eyes I loved so much. Those eyes that usually held all the tenderness and sweet good nature I could ever have hoped to see in the man I'd chosen to spend the rest of my life with. Now, though, I almost couldn't see Pacey in them at all.

I went to him, placed my still-unsteady hands on his knees. "I wish you'd told me you were going to change shifts, Pace," I said. "It was very sweet of you to do that."

"How was your date?" he asked, and I cringed. He was drunk, I could see that now. Drunk and hurt. And for some reason I couldn't begin to figure out, that made me angry.

"For God's sake, Pacey, it wasn't a date," I snapped. "Don't do this."

"What? I'm supposed to be okay with you going to some fancy dinner party with a man whose main goal in life seems to be getting into my fiancée's pants? Is that what you're saying? I'm supposed to just say, 'oh, great, Joey, I'm glad you had a good time. Maybe next time you'll get lucky'?"

"Dammit, Pacey!" I slapped my hand down on the counter next to him in frustration.

"Well, come on, Jo, are you telling me that's not true? The man has made more moves on you than Dawson Leery ever got credit for, and you want me to just stand here and tell you I'm fine with you going out with him? To hell with that, Joey, I'm NOT fine with it."

I put my hands over my eyes briefly. A headache had sprung up in my temples. "How many times are we going to have this fight? Why can't you just trust me?" And I regretted the words before they even left my mouth.

He jumped down from the counter and stood in front of me, staring me down. "Do you want me to recap it for you?" he asked coldly. "I think you know why."

He went into the bedroom and slammed the door so hard the walls shook. I stood there silently for a few moments, my head and my heart both aching with the knowledge that he was right. And the old familiar thoughts began to seep in: I didn't deserve him. Here I was with the best, most loving, most devoted man in the world, sharing his bed and his heart and his soul, and every day we were together was one day closer to the time when I would destroy it.