For 100 Days (100 1)

I watch a tendon pulse in his jaw as he speaks. I’ve seen him haunted before, and it’s there in his eyes again. Shadows that shield whatever torment he’s been made to endure. Dark, private secrets he guards well—maybe as well as I guard my own.

“You’re asking me to tell you something I’ve never told anyone before, Nick.” I shake my head, feeling us slip back to where we started earlier tonight. “You’re asking me to tell you something that can’t be taken back.”

A scowl furrows his brow and that tendon that was pulsing before now begins to throb under the hard clench of his jaw. “I’m not here to hurt you. I’ll keep you safe, Avery.”

But he can’t. No one can. My mother did her best to keep me safe, and it cost her dearly. I can’t drag Nick into my past. At first, I couldn’t allow it because I didn’t know him, didn’t trust him. Now, I can’t let him in because I care too much.

I’m falling in love with him, and he’s asking me to tell him the one thing that could shatter that to pieces.

I cut away from his penetrating stare. It’s too painful to see the displeasure, the cool emotional retreat, settle over his handsome face.

“I’ve got business matters to handle in the morning,” he announces crisply. “If you want to continue this conversation, text or call me and let me know. I want to give you time, Avery, but I’m not a patient man.”

I nod, but inside, my heart is twisting painfully. When I speak, my voice sounds choked and small. “I don’t want this to be goodbye, Nick.”

“Then don’t let it be. I’m giving you the choice.”

I understand how much this offer is costing him. Dominic Baine is not a man who surrenders control to anyone. Yet he’s handing it over it to me. I want to accept it as the gift I know it to be, but my fear keeps me silent.

Instead, I reach up tentative to caress his cheek. He lets me touch him, a small concession that I latch on to like a life line. He’s disappointed with me, even angry. But our physical connection isn’t broken. Not yet, anyway. Not unless I am willing to throw it away.

It’s the last thing I want to do. But he’s asking me for the one thing I cannot give him. Not now. Not ever.

He stands stock-still, his expression guarded, schooled to a dangerous calm as I trace my fingers over the dark shadow on his jaw. Then he draws back, out of my reach, and places the apartment key in my hand.

“Goodnight, Avery.”

Chapter 38

After a restless night without much sleep and half the morning spent drifting around the apartment like a boat cut away from its anchor, I’m relieved to get a text from Tasha inviting me to swing by Vendange before the start of the lunch rush.

Seeing my friend is just the medicine I need today. God knows, I need some kind of diversion from my thoughts and my own miserable company.

Be there in twenty.

Great! she replies. Also? I totally adore your boyfriend. Don’t tell him I said that!

As I sign off, my smile is automatic, even if it hurts. Tasha’s excitement and gratitude toward Nick give me a fresh stab of regret for just how badly I left things with him last night. I don’t know how I’m going to fix the mess I’ve made. I’m not even certain that I can.

If he can forgive that I’ve lied to him about my work and living situation all this time, I doubt he’ll be as willing to overlook the rest of my secrets. Not when he can have any woman he wants. Women who don’t come with my baggage and the complications they would bring to our lives.

He doesn’t need that kind of burden. And I can’t ask him to bear it for me.

Nine years ago, I put a monster in a box. I locked it up tight and threw away the key, and I can’t open it ever again. Not even for Nick. God, especially not for him.

He would never look at me the same again.

No one would.

Shoving the ghosts of my past back where they belong, I shower quickly, then pull my damp hair into a ponytail and brush on some mascara and lip gloss.

It’s so warm and sunny outside, my impulse is to slip into one of the summer dresses Nick bought for me in Miami. But today it doesn’t feel right to touch any of the gifts he’s given me. They don’t belong to me. Not anymore—if they ever truly did. And wearing any of them now would only worsen the ache inside me.

Instead, I toss on a pair of jeans and flats and top the outfit off with a breezy linen blouse. I grab my purse and cell phone, then catch the subway to Midtown.

Tasha is at one of the tables on the main floor going over schedules with a couple employees as I walk in. She waves, then says something to the crew before they all get

up and go back to work.