Chapter 27 Thatcher
THATCHER
Pierce’s apartment building is everything I expected: elegant, expensive, the kind of place where door attendants wear actual uniforms and the lobby marble probably costs more than my yearly rent.
The elevator rises smoothly to the fifteenth floor, so different from the rickety one in my building that sounds like it’s planning its own death.
When Pierce opens the door, he’s already changed out of his suit into dark jeans and a soft gray sweater, and I love that it makes him look younger, more approachable, more like the man I love.
But it’s the apartment behind him that steals my breath, and I’m not sure it’s in a good way.
Everything is monochrome. Black leather furniture, white walls, charcoal rugs spread across dark hardwood floors. It’s sophisticated and expensive and completely devoid of color, like stepping into a magazine spread titled: How Rich People Live.
“Wow,” I breathe, taking in the space. “This is very…um…”
Pierce follows my gaze, seeming to see his own apartment through my eyes. “Clinical?”
“No, it’s beautiful. Just very…” I search for the right word. “Controlled. Organized. Like you’ve eliminated anything that might cause chaos.”
“I used to think that was what I wanted,” he says, closing the door behind me. “Perfect order, everything in its place.”
“Used to?”
His smile is soft as he steps closer. “Then you showed up with your rainbow sticky notes and turned everything upside down. Now I realize the only way I see any color in my life is when you’re in it.”
The words make my chest tight with emotion. “Pierce…”
“When I kiss you,” he continues, his hands finding my waist. “You make everything more alive.”
I melt into him as his lips find mine, the kiss soft and deep and full of everything we can’t say at work.
His apartment fades away, the monochrome perfection becoming irrelevant when all I can focus on is the warmth of his mouth, the way his hands tangle in my hair like he’s afraid I might disappear.
We finally separate, both breathing heavily.
“Tell me about your meeting.”
“It was incredible!”
I settle beside him, unable to contain my enthusiasm. “Okay, so I logged onto the call early because you know me and anxiety, and I thought I was on mute while I waited for the acquisitions manager to join. So naturally, I started giving myself a pep talk.”
Pierce’s eyebrows rise. “A pep talk?”
“You know, the usual. ‘You’ve got this, Meatball. Don’t say anything stupid.
Try not to accidentally insult anyone’s artistic choices.
Remember, confidence is key.’” I cover my face with my hands.
“Except I wasn’t on mute. Jennifer heard everything, including the part where I said ‘Please don’t let me word-vomit about my hot boss again. ’”
Pierce chokes on a laugh. “You didn’t.”
“I did! And when she unmuted herself, the first thing she said was ‘Well, at least you’re honest about your inspirations.’” I peek through my fingers. “I wanted to disappear into the floor. But then she started laughing and said she appreciated authenticity in artists.”
“Only you could turn a technical mishap into a bonding moment,” Pierce says, his smile warm and proud.
“Right? So anyway, after I managed to stop blushing, the actual meeting was incredible…”
Pierce’s smile grows as he watches me talk, his attention completely focused on my story.
“And Anita—that’s the editor I met—she loved my portfolio. Like, actually loved it. She said my style was fresh and that my characters had real personality.” I pull out my phone to show him the notes I took. “But here’s the thing— She can’t just offer me a contract right away.”
“No?”
“No, it’s a whole process. First, I need to find a literary agent. The agent represents me with publishers and negotiates contracts. Then I have to submit a formal proposal—three finished stories, character sketches, a series outline, market analysis, all sorts of professional stuff.”
Pierce nods, following along. “That sounds extensive.”
“It is, but Jennifer gave me a list of agents who specialize in children’s illustrations.
She even said she’d put in a good word with a couple of them.
” I can’t keep the grin off my face. “She wants to see a full series proposal, Pierce. Not just one book, but a whole series about characters who turn disasters into adventures.”
“That’s incredible, Thatcher. You must be thrilled.”
“I am, but I’m also terrified. This is real now, you know? Like, actually possible. I could have books in stores, kids reading stories I created…” I trail off, suddenly self-conscious. “Sorry, I’m rambling. You said you had something important to tell me?”
Pierce’s expression shifts, the joy fading from his eyes. “There’s something important we need to talk about.”
The words hit me like ice water. The way he’s looking at me, the tone, the sudden distance. I know this expression. I’ve seen it before, right before every relationship I’ve ever had ended.
“You’re breaking up with me. I mean, not that we were in an actual relationship, relationship, right?” The words tumble out before I can stop them, panic rising in my throat.
“Thatcher, no.” Pierce’s hands cup my face, forcing me to meet his eyes. “That’s not what this is. Well, I…”
“Then what?”
He runs his hands through his hair and down his face like this is something he needs to do, not something he wants to do. That’s something, right?
“You remember the threat from James? It’s part of the reason we went to New York in the first place. Lior and I took care of the immediate problem, but…”
“But?”
“But there’s a chance James might come after me personally now.
Look for vulnerabilities, ways to hurt me and the company.
” Pierce’s thumbs stroke my cheekbones. “If anyone finds out about us, it could ruin both our reputations. Question Lior’s leadership.
Destroy everything his family worked to build. ”
The words settle in my stomach like stones. “So what are you saying?”
“I’m saying we have two options.” Pierce’s voice is steady, but I can see the pain in his eyes. “You quit VSE, which removes the workplace conflict and frees us to be together publicly. Or…”
“Or we end this.”
“Or we end this.”
The choice hangs between us like a blade. I think about my bank account, barely scraping by each month.
“I can’t afford to lose my job yet,” I say quietly, the admission tasting like defeat. “I’m sorry, Pierce. I know that’s not what you want to hear, but I can’t. Not until I know for sure what’s happening with the publishing opportunity.”
Pierce’s expression crumbles for just a moment before he schools it back to neutrality. “I understand. I do. I’m so sorry, Thatcher. I wish things were different. I wish we had more time, that we weren’t always on borrowed moments.”
“James forced your hand.”
“He did. Or he would if he knew. Unfortunately, it’s too risky.” Pierce’s hands drop from my face, and the loss of contact feels like losing a lifeline. “I’m sorry. For all of it. For letting this happen, for making you choose, for giving in and putting us in this position…”
The pain in his voice hits like a fist to the ribs. “How do you feel about me?” I ask, needing to know before we end this. “Really feel about me.”
Pierce cradles my face again, his touch gentle and reverent. “I’m in love with you, Thatcher,” he says, his voice raw with honesty. “Completely, stupidly, helplessly in love with you.”
The words hit me like a storm, beautiful and devastating. “I love you too,” I whisper, watching his eyes close briefly like the words hurt. “I’m so in love with you it terrifies me.”
“Thatcher…”
“If I ask you again in six months, will you still love me then?”
Pierce’s smile is heartbreaking. “I’ll love you for the rest of my life, whether we’re together or not. That’s not going to change.”
The certainty in his voice makes my decision at once easy and impossible. If I think this is only temporary, then I can say the words I need to say.
A publishing contract. That’s all I need, and then I can quit VSE, and we can be together.
This is just temporary.
“We need to break up,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “We end this before James can use it against us, before it hurts you, Lior, or VSE.”
“Thatcher—”
“But,” I interrupt, standing and moving toward a hallway where I hope is his bedroom, “before we break up, we need to christen your bed. If this is our last night, I want to remember it properly.”
Pierce follows me, his eyes dark with want and sadness in equal measure. “Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything.” I start unbuttoning my shirt, my hands steadier than I expected. “I want you to make love to me in your monochrome bedroom. I want to bring some color to those white sheets.”
Pierce’s control snaps. He crosses the space between us in two strides, his mouth finding mine with desperate hunger. We fall onto his perfectly made bed, hands fumbling with clothes and desperate touches, both of us trying to memorize every sensation.
“I love you,” Pierce breathes against my neck as he works my shirt open. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” I gasp, arching into his touch. “Show me. Show me how much.”
He does. For the next two hours, Pierce worships my body like he’s trying to imprint every touch, every kiss, every moment into permanent memory. He’s tender and desperate and heartbreaking, and when we finally collapse together, both thoroughly spent, I have to fight back tears.
“Stay the night,” Pierce whispers against my hair. “Please. Just tonight.”
“Okay,” I agree, even though I know it will make tomorrow harder. “Just tonight.”
We lie in silence, my head on his chest as I listen to his heartbeat return to normal. The room is dark except for the city lights filtering through his windows, casting everything in silver and shadows.
“Tomorrow, I’m just your boss,” Pierce says quietly.
“Tomorrow, you’re just my boss.”
“And you’re just my assistant.”
The words feel like a death sentence, but I nod anyway. “We can do this. We can be professional.”
Pierce’s arms tighten around me. “I don’t know how I’m going to sit across from you in meetings and pretend I don’t love you.”
“We’ll figure it out.” I press a kiss to his chest, tasting salt that might be sweat or tears. “We have to.”
But even as I say the words, I know we’re lying to ourselves. There’s no going back from this, no pretending we’re just boss and employee when we’ve seen each other’s souls.
Tomorrow is going to destroy us both.
“Thatcher?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For understanding. For choosing what’s best for both of us, even when it hurts.”
I close my eyes, holding on to the feeling of being in his arms, the sound of his voice in the darkness. “Thank you for loving me enough to let me go.”
We fall asleep holding each other, both of us knowing that when we wake up, everything will be different. Tonight is the end of us, and the beginning of the hardest acting job I’ve ever attempted.
In the morning, I’ll put my mask back on and pretend our hearts aren’t breaking.
But tonight, in the darkness of Pierce’s monochrome bedroom, I’m going to love him with everything I have.