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Tobias

I stop for dinner at an Italian place that has nothing on Prior's. I may be ruined forever for Cuban and Italian food after eating there. I may be ruined for everything if I've lost Tris, which is a profoundly depressing thought that sucks the life out of me as I drive back to the hotel where I haven't slept in days.

A lot of my stuff is at Tris', which means I'll have to see her at some point. But out of respect for her wishes, I buy a toothbrush, toothpaste, razor and comb in the hotel gift shop, along with a bottle of water. I pay for the items, take the bag from the clerk and turn to head toward the elevator when I see her.

Lauren.

Sitting in my hotel lobby waiting for me, looking as always as if she just stepped off a runway in Milan. She once told me that her color palette was autumn, which is why she wears tans, oranges and browns exclusively. I should've taken one thing from that information—that she's shallow and concerned with all the wrong things. Hindsight is indeed twenty-twenty. Today she's wearing orange, but all I see is red.

For a second, I'm so surprised to see her that I'm speechless. She looks at me with those big green eyes that used to move me, and it's all I can do not to lose my shit. "What do you want?"

"Can we talk? Please?"

"Absolutely not." I wonder how she found me, but that's secondary to getting rid of her. "Go home. There's nothing for you here."

"Tobias, I want to apologize."

"Good, thanks. All set. Go away." I head for the elevators, hoping she got the message.

She didn't. She grabs my arm to stop me, and since I'm not up for a nasty public scene, I glare at her until she releases me.

"I have less than nothing to say to you."

"I have things I need to tell you. Give me five minutes, please?"

"I'm not giving you thirty seconds. Go back under the rock you crawled out from under and leave me alone. Your scheme has been a roaring success. I hear Eric quit the board. Congratulations on ruining the lives of two people. You should be very pleased with yourself."

To my great horror, she begins to cry. "I'm so, so sorry. I never intended—"

"What didn't you intend? For the whole sordid mess to get plastered all over the New York media, or for me to lose my job, or for your kids to find out what a shameless bitch their mother is?"

"Any of it. I didn't intend for it to go as far as it did."

I stare at her, incredulous. "What did you think would happen when your husband, who runs the hospital where I work, walked in on us having sex?"

A guy from the hotel approaches us, his expression stormy. "That's enough, folks. Take it upstairs or outside unless you want me to call the cops."

"I apologize." I notice there're kids in the bar area, too far away to have heard what I said but close enough that I shouldn't have said it. Why am I even talking to her? "I'm going upstairs. Alone."

"Tobias . . ."

"I really ought to thank you, Lauren." I've turned down the volume considerably, but I hope the glare I direct her way is as frosty as I intend it to be. "If you hadn't blown up my life, I never would've come here and met the most extraordinary woman I've ever known. So thanks for that, for leading me to her. She makes this entire nightmare worth every bit of hell and heartache you put me through." The elevator dings when it arrives. "Have a nice life."

Her tear-stained face is the last thing I see before the doors close and the elevator gets me the hell away from her. As the car ascends, I realize my hands are shaking, and every muscle in my body is tight with fury. How dare she come here to find me, hoping to do what? Reconcile? As if that's ever going to happen.

My heart is beating so fast I fear it's reaching the danger zone. Naturally, the fucking keycard picks that moment not to work, but there's no way I'm going back to the lobby while she might still be lurking about. I slide down to the floor and bust out a beer from the six-pack of Sam Adams I bought on the way back to the hotel, realizing it's not a twist-off and I don't have a bottle opener.

"Motherfucker."

Remember a month ago when your life wasn't a complete disaster? The thought has me pulling out my phone to check what I was doing a month ago today. I scroll through the calendar app and find the date on which I had three back-to-back surgeries, a two-hour meeting with my research team and a late dinner with Lauren at my place. I remember that particular night. I tried to get her to tell me more about herself, but she dodged the questions the way she always did.

I was too tired to care. All I wanted was to eat, have sex and sleep. Looking back, picking apart every minute I spent with her, I can see the signs were there. I just chose to ignore them. For the first time in years, I was in an actual relationship, having regular sex with someone who seemed to like being with me as much as I liked being with her. Why would I blow that up by making an issue over her not wanting to talk about herself? Wasn't that a refreshing change of pace? I'd found a hot, sexy woman who preferred to talk about me rather than herself. She was a true unicorn. What more could I possibly want?

So much more, as it turns out. She might've played me for a fool, but I was rather easily played. I've never been one to be led around by my dick, but that's exactly what she did, and I let it happen. With ninety percent of my mental energy expended at work on any given day, the ten percent I had left wasn't enough to delve deeper into the inner workings of my relationship with her or to come up with questions I should've been asking.

That's my bad. Not that I'll ever think I deserved what she did, but for someone who's always been told he's freakishly smart, I was anything but when it came to her. I was a typical dude who didn't care about the details as long as he was getting laid on a regular basis.

In my heart of hearts, I knew something about us wasn't quite right, and I didn't care enough to figure out what.

My phone chimes with a text. I pull it out of my pocket and experience a moment of pure elation when I see it's from Tris.

Tris: Mr Andrews reviewed the PP presentation today and said we need more about your research. Not sure if you still plan to meet with the C-G board, but if you do, send me more on that.

I read the message three times, looking for something extra that isn't there. She's all business, and I can hardly blame her for that. Since she can tell I read the message, I respond with, Will do.

Do I still plan to meet with the Chicago general board of directors? I turn it over and over in my mind. It would be so much easier to go back to New York, to pick up where I left off as if none of this ever happened. Before I met Tris, that's exactly what I would've done. I would've been on a plane within hours of hearing from the new board chair.

But here I am, still in Chicago, and why is that exactly?

I think about the first time I saw Tris, standing in the blazing sun waiting for me outside the hospital. I think about going to get her out of jail and how adorably undone she was by spending time in that cell. I smile, recalling how her hair had gone from ruthlessly straight to wildly curly in the two hours since I'd last seen her thanks to my convertible and the humidity. I thought she was stunning the first time I saw her, but even more so the second time, when her prim, perfect veneer had been upset by her time in jail.

I remember her telling me she'd never even been to detention before she met me and landed in jail less than an hour later. God, she was adorable that day, so frazzled and worried about her parents finding out she'd been detained. What a refreshing change of pace she was from the start, unlike anyone I've ever met.

I recall finding out she is a widow and wanting to know everything about what she went through and discovering, one detail at a time, how she survived it with her particular brand of strength, courage and determination. In many ways, she reminds me of my mother. She would love Tris. Almost as much as I do.

That thought stops me short.

Hell, I love her. Is it too soon? Absolutely. Does that matter? Absolutely not. I love her, and I think, maybe, she may love me, too. Why else would she feel it's so vital to take a step back, to protect herself from whatever damage I may inflict on her with my ongoing turmoil? If she didn't care, she wouldn't do that. She would've stuck around, enjoyed the time we have left, and walked away unscathed when I leave.

After the amazing time we've spent together, neither of us will walk away from this unscathed. The thought of never seeing her again is unimaginable to me, and the possibility of that fills me with panic. I pick myself up off the floor and, hoping Lauren has taken off by now, go downstairs to get a new key.

I've got a lot to do and not much time left to do it.

Tris

I hardly sleep, tossing and turning and thinking of Tobias and Al and dreading having to put my life back together once again. I hate being back in this place of grief and loss. No, it's not the same as when I lost Al, but the ache is all too familiar and unwelcome. I try to shake it off as I go through my morning routine, which includes a stop at Juanita's.

She immediately senses something is up. "Oh no. What happened? Where's your sexy doctor?"

"I . . . Um . . ."

Juanita surprises me when she shuts her window, flips the OPEN sign to CLOSED, comes outside to take my hand and marches me inside. In all the years I've been buying coffee from her, I've never been inside.

"What're you doing? This is the busiest time of day for you."

"They'll wait. What's wrong?"

"He's probably going back to New York."

"Que lástima." She hugs me tightly. "Lo siento, mi vida."

I'm determined not to break down, to soldier through this and get to the other side of it as quickly as possible. Two weeks ago today, I didn't even know he existed. I refuse to allow him to ruin the life I worked so hard to put together for myself after the last time my heart was shattered. "I'll be okay. I promise."

Angry customers are knocking on the window, but Juanita doesn't seem to care in the least as she hugs me long and hard. "So many people admire you, amiga. The way you've carried on after losing your sweet husband. Everyone wants to see you happy and smiling the way you've been with that hot doctor. It was a sight for sore eyes."

I frantically blink back tears, determined to press on without them. "Thank you, Juanita. I truly appreciate the support."

"If it doesn't work out with him, you're going to find someone else. I know it. A heart like yours is too big to hold all that love you have inside you. You gotta give it away, amiga."

I didn't know she felt that way about me. "Thank you. That means so much to me." I hug her again. "Now get back to work before you have a riot on your hands."

"Eh." She waves a hand at the window as she hands me my cortadito. "They'll wait. They're addicted."

I laugh because that's the God's honest truth. Like me, they can't get through the day without a shot of Juanita's magic. When I try to pay her, she scowls fiercely at me. I send her a grateful smile and emerge from the shop, feeling the glares from everyone in the long line directed at me as I make my way to my car.

"Don't you be looking at her that way," Juanita says. "I brought her in here, and if you want your fix, you'd better be nice to mi amiga. Now, who's next?"

I smile at her sauciness as I get into the car, perching my coffee carefully in the cupholder because God forbid I should spill it. Juanita's cortadito is liquid-gold deliciousness.

I'm getting ready to pull out of my parking space when Priscilla roars into the lot and comes to a stop next to my car. I'm frozen in place, unable to move or think or breathe or do anything other than drink in the sight of Tobias' gorgeous face. I'd have to be blind to miss the yearning in the lovely eyes that always look at me with affection and desire. Now is no different. He conveys so much with just a look.

He gets out of his car, comes over to mine, and knocks on the passenger window. I eye the unlock button warily. It took every ounce of fortitude I could summon last night to take a step back from him. If I let him into my car, I'll be right back to square one.

I glance at the passenger window. He's bent at the waist, staring at me imploringly through the glass. Every part of me wants every part of him. Even as I curse my own lack of willpower, I unlock the door.

He gets in, closes the door and turns to face me.

I crank the AC so we won't roast to death.

A quick glance tells me he's tired—as tired as I am. He didn't shave, and his hair looks like he "brushed" it with an impatient sweep of his fingers.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"Sure. Never better." I take a sip of my coffee so I'll have something to do with my hands besides reach for him and beg him to stay with me forever.

"You willing to share your fix?" Offering a small smile, he tips his chin toward the cup.

I hand it over to him and try not to react to the moan that's become far too familiar to me for reasons that have nothing to do with cortadito.

He gives the cup back to me. "Lauren was at my hotel last night."

I gasp, nearly spill the coffee all over myself and realize my efforts to remain detached from him are for naught. I can no more remain detached from him than I can suddenly decide to quit breathing. "What did she want?"

"Who knows? I told her to get lost."

"How'd she find you?"

"That's a very good question, but I didn't care enough to ask. I just wanted her gone."

"Wow, she came down here to find you. That's pretty crazy." Suddenly, I'm chilled to the bone and not just because of the AC, which I turn down to low.

"She's nothing to me, Tris. Surely you have to believe me when I tell you that."

I tell myself it doesn't matter. He's leaving. I'm not. I know he doesn't feel anything for her, so I want to not care that she came here looking for him. Except I do care. I care more than I've cared about anything in years, despite my futile effort to step back from him and this crazy situation. With him sitting next to me, his familiar scent filling my senses and reminding me of so many intimate moments with him, remaining removed is all but impossible. "I do. I believe you."

"I miss you."

"You saw me yesterday."

"I missed sleeping with you last night. I slept like shit."

"I did, too."

"I know it's a lot to ask of you, but will you please give me a couple of days to figure out my life before you write me off forever?"

"I haven't written you off forever. I'm just trying to avoid, you know . . ."

"Heartbreak?"

"Yeah," I reply, sighing. "I've had enough of that for one lifetime."

"The very last thing I want to do is cause you more. I hope you believe that as well."

"I do."

"The offer from New York was unexpected. It's thrown a wrench into things, and I'm trying to figure out how to proceed. You're very much a factor in my decision-making process."

"Which I absolutely should not be. Nine days, Tobias. You've known me for nine days."

As if he can't resist the need to touch me for another second, he takes my hand and brings it to his lips, kissing my palm and the inside of my wrist, where he has to feel the thundering beat of my heart in the throbbing pulse point. "The best nine days of my whole life, Tris. Hands down."

"Really?" My voice sounds high and squeaky.

"Really. I need you to have some faith in me, and in us. We're going to figure something out, okay?"

Hope swells within me, a wave of happiness so big I couldn't hold it back even if I wanted to, which I don't. I nod, because what else can I do but put my faith in him?

He leans across the center console but can go only so far.

I have to meet him halfway, so the choice is mine to make. As if there's any choice at all. I lean in.

His hand curls around my neck as his lips meet mine in a kiss that starts off sweet but quickly becomes about frenzied need and intense desire.

We resurface many minutes later, hands buried in each other's hair, lips tingling and other parts on fire for more.

"Whoa."

His single word sums it up rather well.

"I have to go to work." I glance at the clock. I have fifteen minutes to get there on time and will need every one of them at this hour.

"Me too." He kisses the back of my hand and lets it go, seeming reluctant. "Can I call you later?"

I think about that before shaking my head. "Call me when you figure out what you're doing. We'll go from there."

He groans dramatically and drops his head back against the seat. "You drive a hard bargain, Ms Prior, but okay. We'll do this your way." He rolls his head my way and looks at me with those beautiful eyes. "Don't fall for someone else before you hear from me, okay?"

My lips quiver from the effort not to laugh. I sense he wouldn't appreciate that right now. "I'll try not to."

"You do that." He reaches for the door handle but looks at me one more time, seeming to take visual inventory, before he gets out of the car and closes the door behind him.

I watch him walk over to join Juanita's line, noting the subtle hunch of his shoulders as he goes. While I hate to see him hurting, it helps to know we're both unsettled. I'm thankful for that as I leave the parking lot and head for work, running frightfully late.