CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I roll over and rub my eyes. Isnt it a little early for visitors? My cell reads 9:13 AM, far earlier than Id like to get up on a Saturday morning after a night of restless sleep.

The knock sounds again, and I groan.

"Go away!" I yell at the unwanted guest. This crappy apartment is tiny enough—and the walls thin enough—that I have no doubt he or she hears me.

Its only then that I remember the events of yesterday and the encounter with Adam in the parking lot. I flip open my phone. "You better get out of here," I say. "Im calling the police."

But its not Adams voice that answers me—its Blaines. "Kurt. Can I talk to you?" I scramble out of bed. Whats he doing here?

"Just a minute!" I say. I look frantically around the room for something—anything—that isnt the hole-filled Hummel Tires & Lube shirt and basketball shorts Im currently wearing. I cant believe he would just show up at my apartment. Doesnt he have bigger things to worry about? I havent heard from him in two months. Did my texts last night really trigger some change of heart? Please, I couldnt have really had that kind of impact on a man like Blaine Anderson.

I should probably send him away. Im not sure Im ready for this conversation yet; not just because its far too early on a weekend, but also because Im not emotionally ready to handle anything like this. Im not even sure what I want to happen, what I want him to say. I was just starting to resign myself to the idea that Id never see or hear from him again. He cant just show up like this. Not without giving me the chance to mentally prepare. Im a man who likes to be prepared.

I find a pair of jeans draped over a chair and tug them on. I pull off my T-shirt, then grab a black tank top out of my top drawer and put that on in its place. But wheres my comb? I scrabble around on my desk for something to pull through my hair, but in the end I just flit my fingers through my hair and hope for the best. Thankfully I hadnt showered last night so Im hoping the residue of the hairspray from the day before will help any major bed head or fly aways that may have crept in during the night.

By the time I make it to the door, Im breathless and flushed.

"Good morning," I say with more energy than I feel. I look at the man whos caused me so much angst over the last few months.

Damn. I dont know how its possible, but hes even sexier than I remember. Hes let his hair get a little longer, the scruff a little thicker, and its a good look for him. His eyes seem both darker and brighter all at once, and I feel that familiar tugging in my belly. I reach out and prop my hand on the doorframe, trying to look more confident and steadier than I feel.

"Kurt," he says. His voice is smooth as silk and thick as velvet, and I imagine that I can feel it on my very skin.

"Yes?" My own voice is high and thin.

"May I come in?" I move wordlessly aside. He steps inside, brushing against me as I pass. My heart flutters in my chest. I cant believe that after all these months I still react so strongly and so suddenly to his nearness. My apartment only has two "areas": the kitchen/living area and where the bed was. Studio apartments were slightly bigger in Brooklyn, but that didnt mean I owned a massive apartment. And I know better than to lead him into my bedroom, so I usher him into the kitchenette.

"Would you like anything? Coffee?" I begin fiddling with my crappy coffeemaker. My hands are shaking as I peel off a new filter. I feel Blaines eyes on my back the entire time.

"Is it all right that Im here?" he says quietly. I look up in surprise. "I mean, you didnt answer my text," he says. "I dont want to intrude. If you dont want me here, just say the word, and Ill leave." I stare at him for a long moment, shocked by the genuine concern I see in his features.

"Youre not intruding." I ram a few buttons on the coffeemaker. "But I would like to know why youre here in the first place."

He runs his hand through his hair. "I just..." He sighs. "I just wanted to explain."

The coffeemaker starts burbling, and I turn to face him. Im not sure whether I should sit or stand, so I lean against the back of the chair.

"What do you need to explain?"

His gaze on me is dark, intense. "Everything." Oh. This is definitely a conversation where I need to sit. I pull out the chair and sink down. My feet brush against his beneath the table, and he doesnt move away. "Ill admit, I was surprised to get your text yesterday. Pleasantly surprised. I didnt expect to hear from you ever again."

I tug at the hem of my tank top. "I just wanted you to know that Id taken your advice."

He reaches across the table and takes my hand. "Im glad you texted." His thumb slides across the back of my hand. "Ive been thinking..." He trails off, and for a brief moment I think hes expecting me to finish his sentence, to know exactly what hes here to say. I dont dare take a guess. "I want to talk about the money. And why I lied." He tightens his grip on my fingers. "My father..." His eyes search my face. "My father was a good man, in many ways, as Im sure you know. He loved me and my brother. He gave a lot of money to a lot of worthy causes."

He sighs. "But he had a number of problems, too. He was too trusting, too gullible. He made a number of terrible investments and allowed himself to be caught up in a couple of financial disasters. He did his best to cover it up, of course, and he hid most of it from me and Cooper, too. We didnt realize the extent of his financial problems until after he died."

He looks so sad, so emotionally exhausted, that I feel like my heart is going to burst. I squeeze his fingers encouragingly. He gives a small smile.

"And so Ive spent the last several months trying to set things right. Ive laid off most of our familys employees—except the lawyers, of course, though theyll soon be gone, too. And Ive kept Martin as long as I could, since hes been with us so long. Ive been working with an auction house to catalog a lot of our things, as well as a realtor to list the house inconspicuously."

The coffeemaker dings behind me, but I ignore it. "So you have to sell everything?" Blaine nods.

His fingers jerk through his hair again. "Most of it, if I want to cover all his debts. Its—its a mess. Ive been elbow-deep in this for months now." He glances up at me. "Which is why I was so pleased when you showed up and offered a most delightful distraction."

"Have you thought about renting the house or making it a hotel; like a B&B or something?" I ask. "You could at least live there even if you had to share your residence with people for some time. Im sure people would pay well to stay in a place like this." My industrious side that seems to have surfaced thanks to the financial problems at The Center cant help but wonder if theres some kind of alternative that would allow Blaine to stay in the place that held so many memories for us.

He shakes his head. "Unfortunately, no. Id have to front too much money in the upstart to get something like that off the ground - not to mention the fact that the building isnt permitted to be a hotel; its in the guidelines of the street. I could petition to have it changed, but that would require hiring a lawyer to represent the change and it could take months or even years to get it changed.

"Ive thought about it all, but nothing is sustainable enough for it to start generating money immediately and with the amount of debt left by my father, I cant let it acquire any more interest. I just have to let it go."

I dont know what to say to this, either, so I just look down at our interlinked hands. "I shouldnt have misled you though," he says. "It was never my intention. But I got caught up in it all. I wanted to keep you around. You wanted the money, and that was all I had to entice you to play along with me. It was wrong, I know, but I was a desperate man. You were the first bright spot in my life after months of dealing with wills and debts and the legal muddle my father left. Im sorry."

I frown. His apology seems genuine, but Im still not sure what to make of all this. "I understand what youre saying," I tell him, "but I still cant figure out why youre here now."

He pulls his hand away from mine. Suddenly he seems awkward, too formal. "First of all," he says, "I wanted to make sure youre okay. What happened with Adam? Did he hurt you?" I dont want to get into this, not after hes laid out so many of the other things that formerly stood between us. But I dont want to lie to him, either.

"I thought he might. He scared me. But I havent seen him since. Hes intense, but I dont think hell violate a restraining order."

Blaine doesnt look as if he believes me. His jaw is set, his shoulders rigid. "I swear, if he lays a hand on you—"

"He wont. I wont let him."

Blaine doesnt look so sure. "Ill act as a witness if you need one. At the very least Ill go to the hearing with you."

His concern stirs something in me, and I reach over and grab his hand again. "This is the first time you and I have seen each other in months. Do we have to talk about Adam?"

His eyes darken, and he twists his hand to tighten his fingers around my own. "Youre right," he says. "I have more important things to say. I need to formally apologize. For everything. The letter I sent wasnt nearly enough. Ive wanted to talk to you for so long. Ive been thinking about you ever since you stormed away from me that day. But I didnt think you wanted to hear from me, and the longer I went without hearing anything from you, the more I believed it.

"I sent the letter in desperation one day when I couldnt take the guilt anymore. I tried to justify my horrible behavior to myself and to you, but in the end Im afraid I just made everything worse. I thought about sending another letter, excusing the first, or calling you, or even just showing up here—but I didnt want to turn into another stalker ex-lover of yours."

I force a half smile.

"Your text message gave me hope," he continues. "I wanted to see you again, to explain everything. When I didnt get a response, I—I couldnt sleep last night, thinking about it. I knew Id go crazy if I couldnt talk to you. And so I came here."

I look at him across the table. No one, seeing his face right now, could doubt his sincerity. I want to forgive him, I do, but theres more we have to settle. "I need to apologize to you, too," I say. "Ive realized since I left you how selfishly I behaved, demanding that money from you. If Id have known—"

"Its not your fault you didnt know," he interjects. "Its mine. I had a dozen chances to tell you."

"Still, I should have respected your decision. And I shouldnt have judged you without knowing the full story." I look down again at our hands, and he gives me a reassuring squeeze. "I just want you to know, that—that everything that happened between us... it wasnt about the money. You were right. The money was just an excuse, a reason for me to, to..." I feel my cheeks go hot, and suddenly I dont want to be sitting at this table anymore. I try to stand, but Blaine keeps his grip on my hands and pulls me back down.

"And I want you to know," he says, his voice low and gravely, "that you werent just a distraction for me."

I open my mouth to reply, but my response dies on my tongue beneath the intensity of his gaze.

"Thats another reason Im here," he says. "I wanted to see if maybe you would let me take you out sometime."

The question is so absurd after everything thats happened that I break out laughing. His face darkens, and I quickly rush to reassure him.

"Im just surprised. I dont mean—I mean, I dont—I didnt..." My cheeks are on fire now, and I dont know where to look.

"Kurt." I force myself to look him in the eyes. My stomach is in knots, and I can feel my pulse beating in my ears. "Youre allowed to say no," he tells me softly.

"No!" I say quickly. "I mean—no, I dont want to say no." The look on his face makes my heart swell in my chest. How does Blaine manage to look so effortlessly sexy while also being adorable when he gets what he wants? Im torn between wanting to eat his face and just smiling giddily at him over a shared milkshake at some 50s diner.

Before I can say anything else, he stands and pulls me into his arms. "You dont know how happy youve made me." His hands reach around me and grab my waist solidly. I cant help but respond with my own arms tangled around his neck. "I know Im not a sexy billionaire anymore, but I hope I have a few other redeeming qualities."

"Money or not, youre still sexy," I assure him. I gaze at him through my lashes.

He laughs and tugs me closer. "So I have a chance, then?"

"Perhaps."

His mouth finds mine, and heat rushes through me, as intense as it was two months ago. I could melt into him all over again, right here, right now. But he breaks away from me.

"Will you come out to the estate, just one last time? Im almost done moving out, but theres something I want you to see first."

I look up at him. After everything that happened, I never expected him to show up at my door, much less ask to continue our little romance. I have no idea what will happen between us in the coming months, but Im willing to take the chance on that sweet smile of his and that wicked gleam in his eye.

"Come on," I say, and give him another kiss. "I want you to show me everything."

The house looks different, now that most of the furniture and décor is gone. Its lifeless and dead, and I wonder if seeing it like this makes it harder or easier for Blaine to say goodbye.

He takes me straight to the gallery. This room, with its high, empty walls, looks even more desolate than the rest of the house. The ornate wallpaper has faded in patches, and its clear that some of the artwork was here for years and years.

Theres only one painting now, and its leaning against the wall about halfway down the room. When we get closer, I see its the Ludlam piece I admired the last time I was here.

"I didnt let them sell this one," Blaine says. "I want you to have it."

I gape at him. "I—I cant accept this."

"You can. I see the way you look at it. You love this painting, more than anyone who might buy it. Its yours."

"Blaine, I—"

"If you wont take it now, then Ill keep it with me until youre ready to take it. Im not selling it. It belongs to you."

My eyes start to burn, and I turn away, not wanting him to see me tear up. He comes up behind me and gently rubs my shoulders. "You deserve it," he says softly. "For putting up with me, if nothing else. You dont have to keep it, if you dont want to. You could sell it and use the money to help the Center. Its not much, but I wanted to do something, after all this."

Something swells in my chest, and I turn and face him. How did I ever believe he was a selfish asshole? I reach out and brush my fingers along his cheek.

But that reminds me of something else.

"What about your favorite piece?" I say. "You didnt sell that one, did you?" I cant bear to think that he kept the Ludlam for me but gave up the painting he most admired.

He shakes his head, a small smile playing across his lips. "Dont worry," he says. "I couldnt part with that one, especially after the good fortune it brought me."

My face goes hot, both from my memory of the first time I viewed that painting and the way Blaine is looking at me now. "I kept a few other pieces, too," he says. "A couple of paintings my father loved, plus one for my brother. And the tusk with the carving of the whaling ship." He reaches out and cups the side of my face. "So you see, I already have all I need. The Ludlam belongs to you."

I open my mouth to protest, but I dont want to argue right now. Instead, I cover his hand with my own. "Thank you, for sharing all this with me." My eyes start to burn again, but this time I cant turn away.

"Thank you," he tells me, "for letting me share it."

I think I see the glimmer of tears in his own eyes, but before I can be sure, he leans forward and kisses me. Its not like the passionate kisses weve shared before. This one is tender, almost tentative, but my stomach flutters even more than it did during any of our previous encounters. I want to drown in the sweetness of his mouth, in the gentleness of his hands. I want to take on his pain and his grief and help him heal, but I dont know how.

I pull away, but only enough so that I can look him in the eyes. "Will you take me on one final tour? I want to see everything." He nods. Its strange to see him fighting for words, but I take his hand and squeeze it. Im here with him now. I can help him say goodbye to this place.

We spend the next few hours wandering from room to room. Most of the furniture and décor is gone, but Blaine still has things to show me, stories to share. I hold his hand through all of it, and his grip on my fingers is tight, as if Im anchoring him through this farewell.

Finally we head back outside to the garden. He seems to brighten a little now that were out in the sun, and his hand relaxes.

"You know," I say as he leads me up the path. "I still havent seen the labyrinth." The corner of his mouth curls up, and the wicked expression makes my heart beat faster.

"We should remedy that," he says, tugging me toward the back side of the house. A few minutes later were standing next to a nearly six-foot expanse of dark green shrubbery. Its obvious that though the green area is small, the labyrinth is set up to have twists and turns and if either of us jump slightly, wed be able to see each other over top of the hedges.

"Wow, you werent kidding. This is rather impressive to come across in Manhattan." I reach out and touch one of the spiny green leaves. The branches are so thick that I cant see even a speck of sunlight from the other side. Blaine grins.

"Its easy to get turned around in there."

"I imagine," I say, tilting my head back and admiring the impressive height of the hedge. When I turn back to him, I find him watching me intently. "Id like to propose a little game," I say.

His eyes darken. "Oh?"

I stroll ahead of him to the place where the hedge parts and the small labyrinth begins. "Ill go in first," I say, "and then you have to come find me."

His lips curl at the prospect. "What do I get if I win?" he asks, his voice rough.

"I think you can guess." I tug at the strap of my tank top, sliding it off my shoulder. Being back in this place is making me feel wild again. The look Blaine gives me in response is positively animal. "Count to twenty," I tell him, backing through the maze entrance. He makes a sound of assent, never taking his eyes from me. I flash him my best "come and get me" grin over my shoulder and disappear between the hedges. "No cheating!" I call back to him.

And then I break into a run. My heart is pounding in my throat as I rush down the dirt path. I dont know if Blaine really means to count to fifty, but I want to give him a good chase. Toying with him is half the fun. Im out of breath by the time I reach the first fork. I pause for only the briefest of moments, and then I turn down the left-hand path. Just around the bend, I stop again and pull my tank top over my head. Theres nothing wrong with helping him out a little. I hook the tank top over a branch of the nearest hedge and continue on my way. He could probably see me pretty easily over the hedges and the labyrinth isnt big enough for this game to really take long, but that doesnt really matter at this point. Hes got me, Im just keeping him entertained.

By the time I reach the next split in the path, I know Blaine has had plenty of time to finish counting. Hell be on my trail soon, if he isnt already. I kick off my shoes and leave them in the dirt at the head of the path I choose.

At the following fork, I shimmy out of my jeans. Im laying them down on the ground when I hear Blaines footsteps for the first time. He isnt far—on the other side of the hedge I just came around. I have to hurry.

The next time the path splits; I shove off my socks and leave them behind. Im down to my boxer-briefs now, and Blaines getting closer. Hes moving quickly.

My legs are shaking by the time I round the next bend in the path, but Im not sure whether its because Ive been running or because my body has started to respond to this game of erotic tag. Goosebumps ripple across my skin. The cool air rushing past my bare nipples teases them into hard, sensitive points.

At the next fork, I slip my underwear down my legs and throw them down on the path.

Im nearing the center of the labyrinth now. I can hear the wind blowing across the tops of the hedges, and somewhere in the distance a horn honks, but otherwise were completely cut off from the rest of Manhattan. Anything can happen between these leafy walls and if we stay out here too long, we could quite possibly give one of his neighbors a rather spectacular show... not that we hadnt already had that potential a time or two before.

Blaines gaining now. More than once Ive caught a glimpse of him over my shoulder, but Ive managed to stay ahead of him so far. At one point I round a corner and lose him for a little while, but soon enough I hear his footsteps behind me again. Hes close, and he doesnt seem to be tiring. I dont know how much longer I can hold him off.

The next time the path curves, it doesnt lead me down another labyrinthine corridor. Instead, it opens onto a small circular clearing with a fountain at its center. This must be the very heart of the maze. I stop at the edge of the fountain. Behind me, Blaines footsteps are approaching fast. They stagger to a stop when they reach the clearing. I take a deep breath and stare down into the clear water of the pool. My softly rippling reflection stares back at me, flushed and fully naked.

Blaine moves again, slowly this time, as if hes afraid to startle me. Each footstep behind me sends a shiver of anticipation through my body. I continue to stare down into the water, even as my nerves prickle at his approach.

When hes right behind me, he stops again. For the longest moment, he doesnt touch me, but his breath stirs the hair on my neck. I can feel the heat of his body up and down my naked back. When finally he reaches out and brushes his hands down the length of my arms, my heart is sprinting so fast I can hardly breathe. My skin trembles under his touch.

"Kurt," he murmurs, his lips at my ear.

His fingers slide down my arms to my hands, then move to my hips. I arch back against him, and thats when I realize that hes naked, too.

I twist in his arms so that Im facing him. Hes beautiful. His eyes gleam with something deeper than lust, and I want to lose myself in them. Sometime later well have to start thinking about the sort of relationship we might have outside this place, removed from the magic of this house, beyond the games and the sex that brought us together. Theres so much I want to share with him—meaningful things, important things. I want to take him to the Center, show him the changes my dad and I have made. I want to talk to him about Adam and all the other events, good or bad, that have shaped me into the person I am today. And I want him to share other parts of his life with me, too.

For now, though, Im content to just be here in his arms. "I win," he says, leaning down and brushing his lips across mine.

"No," I murmur against his mouth. "I think I did."