The car was far too cold for comfort. But the crisp air blowing onto Avery's face made it easier to let her tears dry. Her pain was far more uncomfortable than the goosebumps now trailing up her arms.

Questions pestered Avery. How long would her boyfriend have kept his affair with this woman a secret? He had said he had been seeing her for a year. A year. Avery had been dating him since she was seventeen. That means for a full fifth of their relationship, Jameson Winchester Hawthorne had been cheating on her. Maybe, the whole time, she had known Jameson would tire of her. She'd loved him.

Avery was unsure where she was even going to sleep tonight. She couldn't stay with Libby and Nash; Their house was being redone while they were out of country on their honeymoon. She lived at Hawthorne house, which was where Jameson and Xander were; She wasn't going to be anywhere near where Jameson was. Max was with her parents since it was Thanksgiving week.

Avery pulled out her phone and scrolled through her contacts list. Her eyes snagged on one name. No. Absolutely not. He might not be home. It was only 6:00, He could be out at dinner or something. Maybe he was on a date.

It didn't hurt to check. His apartment was only a few minutes from the Old Navy parking lot where she was currently parked. She didn't even need GPS.

She pulled out of the parking lot and onto the bust street. People were just getting out of work and eager to be home eating dinner with their loved ones. Right now, normally, Avery, Jameson, Alicia, and Xander would be sitting down for dinner. Maybe laughing over something stupid Xander had said, maybe Jameson would be reaching for her hand under the table…

A tear snuck its way into her eye. No, she would not let herself think that way. It wasn't right, it would only make her feel worse. She turned up the radio as she approached a fancy modern apartment skyscraper-style building.

"Cozy," She muttered, pulling up to a closed gate preventing her from entering the parking complex. She stopped her car and rolled down her window as a man approached her.

"Name."

"Of who?"

"Of whom you're visiting." He answered. Avery caught the subtle correction of her grammar and resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"Grayson Hawthorne." She replied, her throat constricting. The man raised an eyebrow. "You're going to need special clearance for that." He frowned. Was that all this NPC did? Frown?

"I'm family." She ground out.

"ID." He reached out a hand. Avery fumbled to find her purse, realized she'd left it at Hawthorne House, then searched her glovebox. She had not brought her wallet.

"I left my house in a hurry to get here. I really need to see Gra– Mr. Hawthorne." Formality was probably best when dealing with a man like this.

"No ID, no clearance." He shook his head and gestured for her to back up. Avery was on the verge of tears. She needed to get in there. Now.

"One moment please." She said, reaching for her phone. She sent Grayson a text.

Avery: I'm at your apartment building and this security guy won't let me in. Help please :)

She waited a moment, staring at her screen. That's when a ding sounded and her phone screen lit up.

Grayson: Give him your ID.

Avery rolled her eyes.

Avery: I left the house in a rush, didn't grab anything

Grayson: What happened?

Avery: Can I plz just get into the parking garage? Then we can chat, k?

Grayson: One second.

Avery leaned back in her seat. She saw the security guard press a finger to his earpiece and turn his back to her. A moment later, he turned back around and, obviously annoyed, He said, "You've been cleared for entry."

She frowned at him then pulled into the complex, and into a parking spot.

Practically leaping out of her car, she sprinted to the nearest elevator. This apartment building was like a fancy resort.

As the elevator doors opened on Grayson's floor, she ran to his door and yanked on the doorknob. She was starting to cry again. She had fought against it but now all hell was coming loose. When the door turned out to be locked, she began to pound on it ferociously.

The door was thrown open and Grayson stood there in a suit. Why was he in a suit alone in his apartment? Avery didn't know, didn't care. All she needed was someone to talk to, someone to hear her. She pushed him aside and stalked into his apartment, collapsing in a barstool in front of a kitchen island. She laid her head down on the cool marble countertop and groaned.

"Do you want a drink?" Grayson asked, moving to the kitchen and grabbing a glass out of a cabinet.

"Something with a lot of alcohol, please." Avery requested. He poured her a glass of vodka and she chugged it quickly. "More, please." He silently poured her another glass and sat down on a barstool beside her.

"Now's not a good time, Avery." He said gently.

"I thought 'now' was never going to happen." She shot back, far too harsh a response for the kindness in his tone. She took the liberty of refilling her own glass. The vodka was nearly gone.

"Why did you need to talk to me?"

Avery inhaled sharply. "I was coming back early to Hawthorne House. I thought my meetings were going to go until 10 at least, but I finished at 5," She paused to take a heavy drink and continued. "When I got back, I walked in to see Jameson making out with some lady I've never seen. I yelled at him, and he pulled me aside and said that it wasn't what it looked like, and I told him to shut up and tell the truth, so he said okay, truth is I've been hooking up in secret with her for a year next month." Avery finished her story and her glass in the same breath. Avery was suddenly feeling a little dizzy. Too much vodka, probably. Grayson sighed.

"I'm really sorry Avery. And I'm sorry to be a pain, but I have someone coming over…" He looked down at his watch. "In twenty minutes. And I'm afraid you are becoming severely drunk. Stop drinking that." He walked over to the alcohol cabinet that Avery had drifted over to and ripped the bottle from her hands.

"No!" She whined at him, reaching feebly for the bottle as he put it back in the cabinet and closed the door. She crossed her arms. You are a frustration, Grayson Hawthorne. Yet she could not stop her eyes from drifting down to his lips…

No. She was drunk, but she wasn't stupid.

"Who's coming?" She asked, her words slurring into what sounded more like 'wooscomon' but Grayson seemed to understand her. She hadn't had a drink in so long she had forgotten how weak she was with alcohol.

"Just– Someone." He said, pulling at his tie as if it was suddenly strangling him. What? Avery was sure she was missing something but she was so dizzy she could barely put two and two together. She strutted toward the living room, tripping over a rug. Grayson reached out to catch her, but as soon as he lifted her up again she batted him away. Avery Kylie Grambs was not in the business of bad decisions. That was Jameson's duty.

"Avery, you're not feeling okay." Grayson said, raising himself to his full height to look down on her. Avery angrily stalked toward him.

"Oh? Not okay? I am perfectly fine, Grayson, it is not your place to tell me I'm not okay."

"I care, Avery. You're heartbroken, and I'm heartbroken for you. I told you I'd always protect you, but the last person I expected to have to protect you from just hurt you in the worst way possible. You're not in the right mental state."

"Yes, I am!"

"No, Ave, you're not." There was something significant in the way he used her nickname, the one that only Libby used for her on occasion, that made her even more exasperated at him.

"Want me to prove it?"

"You can't."

So she kissed him.