His face looks weird, and he seems as though he’s breathing kind of funny. Without a word, he stands and pushes past me, running out of the room.

I stand there dumbfounded until the music cuts out and someone comes over and takes the microphone from my hand.

Something is wrong with him. I’d better go see what.

I find him waiting at the elevator.

“Why did you run off?” I stand beside him and place my hand on his shoulder.

He brushes it off, and that’s when I realize he might be mad at me.

“Andrew, what’s wrong?”

He whips around to face me. “What’s wrong? You really have to ask?”

I blink, not sure what to say and unprepared for his anger.

“You practically just gave me a striptease in front of all my coworkers and my bosses. I’m trying to make partner. What the hell were you thinking?” His voice is raised and there’s so much venom in it that it takes me a minute to respond.

“I was thinking it would be a fun way to show you I love you.”

He stills at my words then, similar to the night I first met him, all the emotion on his face is shuttered away. “If that were true, you wouldn’t have done what you just did. You would’ve thought about how I’d feel about it.”

“Well, I’m sorry. I’m pretty tipsy right now!” I throw my hands out to my sides and almost lose my balance but reach out for the wall to keep myself upright.

“Why the hell were you drinking? Can’t you be a professional? Jesus.”

The elevator dings and he walks straight in, not even bothering to check if I follow. Which I do, because screw him. He’s being a jerk.

He hits the button for the lobby and doesn’t bother to look in my direction.

“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you,” I say meekly.

That causes him to look at me but not the way he normally does. “Embarrassed me? I’m fucking mortified. Not only do I not want my coworkers to know my business, but you basically just handed them a juicy story to gossip about by singing and dancing around me like a lunatic. Did you see everyone filming? That’s gonna be online by the end of the night. Use your head, Kenzie.”

Tears spring to my eyes. Maybe I made a mistake, but I don’t deserve to be made to feel this way. It’s too familiar. Andrew’s words rip open the scab I’ve been trying to heal since childhood.

“Bethaney gave me some drinks and told me there wasn’t alcohol in them, but there was. By the time I knew, it was too late. And when she suggested…” What does it matter what I say? His mind is made up. “I’m sorry.”