As minutes pass, I grow uneasy that I did the wrong thing by coming here. God, you’re stupid, Blaire. What did you think? That Lawrence would be just sitting around doing nothing?

I walk up to the reception area. “Excuse me, I think I’m going to go.”

“But Mr. Rothschild should—”

“No, it’s okay,” I say, getting ready to escape. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Blaire? Is that you?”

Shit. I close my eyes and open them as I turn in the direction of his voice. “Hi, Lawrence.” I watch an immaculately dressed Lawrence hand a file to someone next to him before coming to stand in front of me.

“What are you doing here?”

“Surprise!” Is he mad that I came? Shit. Shit. Shit. I school my features trying to appear blasé and flirtatious when I’m anything but. “I hope you’re not mad.”

He frowns. “No, not at all. Why would you say that?”

“I don’t know… You’re obviously busy and the last thing you need is someone bothering you. I didn’t think this through.”

“You would never bother me, Blaire—you know that.” Lawrence takes my hands in his. “But tell me, darling, why are you here?”

“I wanted to see you.” And that’s the God’s honest truth.

“Yeah?” He lets go of my hands to cup my cheeks. “My God, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

My cheeks burn like fireballs. I blink a couple of times dazedly. Hypnotized by him, I gaze into his eyes. There’s a teasing glimmer making them shine so brightly that it’s impossible to look away. I nod. “Yeah, very much so.” Suddenly feeling ridiculously exuberant and daring, I close the space between us and place my hands on his chest. “Don’t go back to work. Spend it with me.”

“And what would you like to do?”

“I don’t know. Nothing. Everything! Let’s do something crazy. Oh, I know! I know!” I say excitedly. “Let’s go to Coney Island. I’ve never been. Have you?”

A lazy smile appears on his face, and the sight of it does crazy, wild things to me. “What do you say, my dear friend?” I ask.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re out of your mind?”

I grin devilishly. “A couple of times.”

“I have a feeling that I might regret this decision but yes, why not?”

“It’s good to regret, Lawrence. It shows that you have lived.”

Lawrence and I get out of the car and stand staring straight ahead of us. In the silence that follows, I’m not sure whether I should laugh or cry. I avoid looking at Lawrence because I’m embarrassed to have made such a mistake in front of him, and the last thing I want to find in his eyes is the same disappointment I see everywhere else.

“Well, I guess this is where you regret listening to me,” I say, trying my damn best to sound amused. I fail miserably. After a pause, I add, “This sucks. I suck. I can’t seem to do anything right.”

“Oh yes. What a waste of my fucking time.” He surprises me by taking my hand in his and intertwining our fingers. “Come on, Blaire. Give yourself a break. So what if the park is closed? I’m sure there are plenty of things to do.”

I let go of him and hug myself with both arms, feeling deflated like a day old balloon. “You don’t get it. This was supposed to be special and, obviously, it isn’t.”

“Of course I get it, but go ahead and sulk. I won’t stop you.”

“Are you trying to pick a fight with me?” I ask incredulously.