J.D. watched as Payton hurried off, careful to never look in Ben’s direction, and headed over to a stairwell just a few feet away.

“Jameson!” Ben called out to him from across the parking garage.

As J.D. waited while Ben approached, he was struck by a sudden fear: What if Ben—either purposefully or accidentally—said something about the one of them the firm had decided to make partner? And in that moment, whether J.D. wanted to admit it or not, he began to wonder if Payton was right in thinking the two of them could get past the firm’s decision.

Pushing this aside, J.D. smiled as Ben walked up to him, hoping to play it casual and innocent-like. “Ben, hello.”

“Where did Payton run off to?” Ben asked.

“Payton?”

“Yes, Payton. She was standing here, talking to you, just a second ago.”

So much for casual innocence.

“Oh, Payton,” J.D. said. Bad dinner theater threatened to rear its ugly head again. “She forgot her key card upstairs. She saw me and asked to borrow mine so that she could go back up and get it.” Not bad, J.D. thought. That actually sounded plausible.

Ben nodded. “Right, right, her key card.” Then he cocked his head. “You don’t really think I’m that stupid, do you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I saw how close you two were standing, the way she was leaning into you.” Ben winked. “I guess you decided to go back to that well one last time, huh?”

J.D. felt his heart stop.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Ben.”

The partner grinned slyly. “You can drop the charade, Jameson. It’s just the two of us here. It’s not like I’m going to call Human Resources and tell them that you’re banging Payton again.” He lowered his voice. “Did you two at least make it out of your office this time?” Chuckling, he gave J.D. a little slap on the shoulder.

J.D. closed his eyes.

Five fucking minutes.

If he had left his office just five minutes later, he would’ve been in the clear.

“All right, fine,” Ben was saying. “You keep the dirty details to yourself this time. It’s probably better that I don’t know.” With a wink, he told J.D. to have a good evening, then headed off in the direction of his car.

J.D. waited, watching as Ben rounded the corner and finally disappeared out of sight. Then he waited some more, trying to decide if there was any chance Payton hadn’t overheard their conversation. He walked slowly to the stairwell where she had hid to avoid Ben. As soon as he turned the corner, he knew there was zero chance she hadn’t overheard absolutely everything.

Payton’s mouth was set in a grim line. “Tell me I misunderstood.”

More than anything, J.D. wished he could tell her that. “It was a long time ago, Payton,” he said quietly.

Her eyes darkened with anger. “It was a long time ago that you—what?—lied and told Ben that we slept together?”

“Yes.”

She pulled back in surprise, and J.D. knew that part of her had hoped there was some other explanation for what she had overheard. She looked him over with an expression of betrayal. “Tell me what you told him.”

“It’s not important,” J.D. told her, even though he knew that wasn’t true.

“I heard Ben ask if we at least made it out of your office this time. Whatever lie you told him, I want know. I think you owe me that at least,” Payton said coldly.

J.D. had to look away, unable to meet her gaze. When he hesitated, he heard the panic creep into Payton’s voice.

“Oh, god, J.D. He’s my boss. What did you say to him?”

J.D. turned to face her. She was right; she should know exactly what had been said. And he needed to own up to his mistakes. So he steeled himself for the inevitable.

“I told him that we had sex on top of my desk one night after everyone left.”

Payton blinked. “Why? Why would you do that?”

J.D. hated that he was the one who put that hurt expression on her face. He tried to look away from her, but she was having none of that. She stormed over, confronting him. “You know what gossip like that can do to a person’s reputation—particularly a woman’s reputation,” she hissed. “Why would you say something like that to Ben? To help you get ahead? Look at me, J.D. Tell me.”

When J.D. peered down at her, he saw all the familiar anger and distrust in her eyes once again. He clenched his jaw. “I don’t know, Payton. Maybe I am the asshole you always thought I was after all.”

It was a cop-out, he knew. But the alterative was the truth, and the truth—at least with the way she was looking at him right then—did not appear to be the most viable option.

Payton stared at him with an expression of disbelief. “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?”

“Is there really anything I could say that would make a difference?” J.D. was pretty certain he already knew the answer to that.

And here he’d thought her eyes couldn’t get any colder.

As Payton backed away from him, her gaze was absolutely icy. “I guess we’ll never know,” she said in a flat, emotionless tone.

Then she turned and walked away.

“WHY THE HELL don’t you have your cell phone turned on?”

Outside Wrigley Field, J.D. stormed over to the will-call booth where Tyler waited, too angry to bother with a greeting.

Tyler didn’t appear to notice the frustration in J.D.’s voice. He pulled out his phone and looked at it matter-of-factly.

“Would you look at that—the battery’s dead. I must’ve forgot to charge it. Oh, well.”

J.D. could’ve strangled him. Three weeks ago, Tyler had suggested they catch a game the night before the partnership decision, as a distraction. At the time it had seemed like a great idea. But now, after everything that had just happened with Payton, baseball was the last thing on his mind.

“ ‘Oh, well?’ ” he said. “I’ve been trying to call you for the past hour.”

“Sorry.” Tyler cocked his head. “What’d you want?”

“To tell you that I wasn’t going to make it tonight.”

“You came here to tell me you’re not coming?” Tyler asked.

“Yes,” J.D. said, exasperated.

“But if you’re not coming . . . then how are you here? Wait—is this a time-travel kind of thing? If so, you’ve got to tell me how that works, because I would really love to go back to Saturday night and tell myself not to bring home Ms. Looney Tunes, because that girl has—”

“Screw this.” J.D. whirled around, cutting Tyler off. “I should’ve let you sit out here all night waiting.” He began walking back to his car. Normally, he could take all the shit Tyler wanted to dish out. But not tonight.

“Hey, J.D.—come on,” Tyler said, following him. “I’m just messing with you. Hold up a second.”

J.D. slowed down, then finally turned around.

Tyler saw the look on his face. “What happened?”

J.D. looked up at the sky, shaking his head. He still couldn’t believe it himself.

Seeing his reaction, Tyler took a guess. “The firm. They told you their decision,” he said in a somber tone.

J.D. laughed bitterly. “I wish that was it.” He was struck by his choice of words. That was quite a statement to make.

Tyler seemed less surprised. He stepped over and put his hand on J.D.’s shoulder. “So, then. Do you want to tell me what happened with Payton?”

J.D. didn’t know where to start. He ran his hand through his hair. “I . . . wow, I totally fucked it up.”

Tyler nodded. “I’ll tell you what—we’re both here, and I’ve already got the tickets. Let’s go inside, have a beer, and you can tell me everything.”

J.D. knew that Tyler had sprung for club box seats, just five rows back from the dugout, and felt bad letting his friend’s money go to waste. Plus, the part about the beer didn’t sound like a bad idea. He was going to need something alcoholic—probably several somethings alcoholic, in fact—just to get through this conversation.