A loud scraping sound met her ears. Charlie had pushed back his chair. “As fascinating as it is to witness a lover’s quarrel, I have business matters to attend to. Mr. Nichols, I thank you very kindly for securing the transaction last night so that I could get on my flight to Miami. I have business to attend to there. I believe the final term of our deal was a handshake,” he said offering his hand to Clay. The two men shook and Julia wanted to bite both of their fingers, leaving teeth marks, and making them both yelp. Charlie patted Julia on the shoulder. “And that means, Red, you are free and clear. It has been a pleasure working with you. You made it entertaining for me, and I will miss my top ringer. But I will surely find someone else who owes me soon. Enjoy Cubic Z. I will not be drinking there again,” he said. That was what she wanted, what she’d been fighting for, and she somehow knew Charlie meant every word. There was honor among thieves. His word was good on this matter.

He walked off, leaving Julia alone with the man who’d played her. “I don’t understand. You think this is okay because you did it for love?”

“No. Yes,” he said, his voice wobbly as he shoved his hand through his hair. “Yes. Julia, I didn’t want anything to happen to you, so I got him the money.”

She softened for a moment, because she understood some part of his actions. Deeply and truly. “I get that. I honestly do. I understand you wanted to protect me, and I don’t fault you for that. Because I’d have done the same for you, and I’m okay with that,” she said, dropping her hand on top of his. Relief flooded his eyes when she made contact. But it was short-lived because she took her hand away, placing them both in her lap. Her anger stole all the softness, replacing it with only the sharp, cruel betrayal she felt. “But I don’t understand why the hell you didn’t tell me. It’s been twelve hours since you sent him the money. You had so many chances to tell me that the rules of the game had changed.”

She watched him swallow hard, a terribly pained look in his eyes. “I wanted to tell you.”

“But you didn’t. You let me play the end of the game thinking it mattered. I was losing, and you told me to go back in there and kick ass, knowing it didn’t matter how I played. You sent me back to play a game that was, for all intents and purposes, rigged. Because it didn’t matter what I did,” she said, her voice threatening to break. “That’s the moment, Clay. Then. There. On the street. After you told me you loved me. That’s when you needed to tell me about Charlie’s new deadline. I’d have understood completely if you pulled me aside and said, ‘Hey gorgeous, bad news,’” she said, dropping her voice to imitate a man’s deeper tones, “‘Charlie called and we need to get him the money now.’ That’s all you had to say. That’s it.”

“I know. I should have. But you were happy and determined, and I wanted you . . .” He let his voice trail off.

“You wanted me to believe I could do it,” she supplied.

“Yes,” he said with a heavy sigh.

“You wanted me to think I’d pulled it off myself. But I only wanted one thing. To not be played. And you took that away from me. You, of all people, should know better. You hate lies and you hate liars, and you lied to me by not telling me. You patted me on the ass and sent me into a game that didn’t matter, but you led me to believe it did. Then I won and I practically danced down the street afterwards, and you kissed me and told me you were proud of me. I thanked you for making it possible for me to win on my own terms. And that was another moment that you could have told me.”

She stopped to grab him by the arm, trying to make her point. “Instead, you let me believe I’d won my freedom,” she said, and now the lump in her throat was so painful that it felt like a swollen ache. She brought her hand to her mouth, as if she could keep the crying at bay. But one rebel tear streaked down her cheek as she whispered, “Then you made love to me in your house, in front of the mirror, and asked me to move in with you. And you knew then. All you had to do was tell me. I would have still said yes.”

“I wanted you to be happy. And I didn’t know how to say it,” he said, trying to reach for her, to tug her back in for an embrace, but she held him off.

“You’re a goddamn lawyer. You talk to people for a living. Your whole world is semantics and details,” she said, the words breaking on her tongue like salty waves. She took a deep breath, trying to somehow settle the tears that threatened to wrack her body. “You could have found a way to tell me. Instead, you spent the whole night telling me you loved me, and asking me to move in, when you should have been telling me the truth. FIRST. Because the truth is fine. The truth isn’t what hurts. It’s the time you had when you chose to not tell me the truth. And that makes me feel like I gave you my heart and you played me like a fool.”

“I only did it to protect you.”

“I did something once to protect you. I lied about who you were to protect you,” she said, reminding him of that morning on the street in San Francisco when Stevie showed up. Clay winced as she mentioned it. “And what happened? You walked away.”

“You’ve got to understand. I was trying to help you last night, Julia,” he said, his words slick with desperation.

“I know your intentions were good, but this isn’t about your intentions. It’s about your actions, because those matter more to me. I have been deceived so badly over money by men.” She grabbed his shirt collar, her eyes locking with his. “I need you, the man I love, to never deceive me. I want to be on your team, but you’ve got to play fair. I’m fine with what you did, but I am not fine with how you did it. I am not fine with those twelve hours that you had to tell me the truth. If you had time to ask me to move in with you, you certainly had the time to tell me about Charlie’s demands,” she said, as she stood up quickly, pushing away from the table.

“Please don’t go.”

“We are making a scene, and when patrons at my bar make a scene I ask them to leave, and that is what I’m doing,” she said as she walked down the street.

He kept pace alongside her. “I am sorry. That is all I can say. I fucked up, and I’m so sorry.”

She stopped outside his building, parking her hands on her hips. “Do you know how I feel right now? Do you?”

“Terrible?” he offered up weakly.

“Stupid. Like I’m the biggest idiot in the world,” she said, erecting a wall inside her to keep the tears locked up. She had to say this. He had to know. “And it makes me feel as if everything that happened between us last night was a lie.”

“The way I feel for you is not a lie, Julia,” he pleaded, and she could hear every note of his pain. But she hurt too. “It’s the truest thing in the world.”

“Then you ought to act like that,” she said, staring sharply at him as she grabbed the handle of the door.

“So what happens next?”

“I’m leaving New York. And I’m going to go home to my house, and that’s as far as I know right now.”

“Please. Give me a chance to make this up to you,” he said, practically begging.

Once inside the elevator, she placed her hand on his chest. “I understand you want to. But I have to leave for the airport in two hours, I need to pack, and I’m hungry as hell.”

“At least let me feed you. Let me get you something to eat.”

“If only this were as simple as French fries,” she said as they stepped out onto his floor. “But you can help me pack.”

“Then I will gladly help you pack,” he said, and together they went upstairs, both like beaten-down ragdolls, listless when they should have been joyful. They didn’t speak as she gathered her lotion, shampoo and makeup from the bathroom, dropping them into a plastic bag, and layering that on top of her clothes. Maybe there was nothing more to say. The time for words had passed. This wasn’t about arguments, or trying to convince someone you were right or wrong. This was about whether she’d listen to her heart or her head, and what both had to tell her.