I finished my notes around five o'clock and decided to send a mass email to all my clients I was supposed to have seen today. I typed a brief explanation for my absence, apologizing for having to reschedule, and telling everyone that an unexpected issue had come up that morning. I didn't like admitting I'd screwed up, or addressing it with the people I'd stood up, but it was the professional thing to do. I received two replies, thanking me for my explanation and saying they didn't mind and looked forward to our rescheduled meeting.

I concluded my work, considering it a fairly productive day, though I'd only worked about three hours. I watched the clock impatiently, anxiously awaiting eight. I planned on leaving around seven-thirty, knowing that would give me just enough time with the traffic to arrive about five minutes early.

I closed my laptop and I headed upstairs to my bedroom to search for something to wear. The restaurant Nick had chosen was an upscale place. I certainly didn't intend to show up in jeans and a shirt but I knew Derek would be extra suspicious if I left the house in a dress. I didn't necessarily want to wear a pantsuit either, thinking it didn't jive with having dinner with a hot guy. It was too business-y. However, I rarely met clients for dinner, and when I did, I always wore a pantsuit. Derek knew that.

I decided to wear a classic black dress with a suit jacket over it, knowing it fit the professional appearance but also the dressier, fancier look. The dress I picked came to my mid-thigh and had a lacy flower design at the top. It was strapless and looked incredible. I paired it with red heels and a black blazer.

By the time Derek arrived around six-thirty I'd already taken a shower, which had been beyond relaxing. I was so glad to be able to shave my legs and use my own shampoo since I didn't get to that morning at Nick's. I was lounging on the couch, watching the local news when Derek walked through the front door.

"How was the meeting?" I called over my shoulder, not looking away from the TV.

Derek entered the living room, flopping down next to me and loosening his tie. "Fine."

"Just fine?" I frowned. "What happened? You look irritated."

"I am."

"Why?"

"You know that guy Nick you met at the party last night?" Derek asked, making a disgusted face.

A nervous pang shot through my stomach at the mention of Nick's name. "Yeah."

"The asshole kept wanting to talk finance and I kept telling him it wasn't his business and then dad got pissed and called us in the hall," Derek explained.

I remembered Nick saying he was about to go into a meeting when we'd talked earlier.

"How's it not his business?" I asked. "Doesn't he-"

"Because it's not!" Derek snapped.

"Alright. I'm sorry." I scooted away from him. He didn't have to be such an asshole about it.

"I'm sorry." He shook his head. "I'm just really fucking pissed. I don't like this guy. I don't want him working there and I should be able to fire him but I can't because my dad fucking likes the piece of shit!"

"Maybe he's not really such a bad guy," I said, trying to casually defend him. "Maybe you should try getting to know him and see if you can work things out. He can't be that bad."

Derek looked at me incredulously. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you like this guy."

I quickly shook my head. "No. I just think there's a way to work it out where you guys can do business together without fighting all the time. You don't know. He might actually have some good ideas."

"He doesn't." Derek's tone told me to drop it.

Silence overtook us and with it came a flurry of emotions to me. The more Derek talked about his dislike for Nick, the more I seemed to like Nick. I wanted to tell Derek that Nick was a good guy, even if I wasn't entirely sure of that myself. I wanted to convince him that he shouldn't have a problem with Nick. I wasn't sure if that was what I really thought, or if I just wanted Derek to like Nick so he wouldn't get so mad if he found out about our rendezvous last night.

Nick and me. Me and Nick. The memories started flooding back again. I could still hear Nick's heavy breathing as he fucked me against the pantry door. I shivered at the thought, biting my lip.

"Are you cold?" Derek asked, pulling me onto his lap.

I wasn't. "Yeah."

"Today was weird," he sighed. "Let's just act like it didn't happen?"

I was more than okay with that idea. "Of course," I agreed, maybe a little too enthusiastically.

"I missed you," he said in a low voice.

He moved us so that I ended up lying back on the couch with him leaning over me. It wasn't the most comfortable position but I tried to act like I wasn't uncomfortable, still worried about him getting wise.

Derek stared into my eyes for the longest time before finally leaning down to kiss me. I'd always felt the classic sparks and butterflies when we kissed, but this time I felt nothing. Nothing but awkward, almost like it was forced. At first, I didn't kiss back but pushed myself to go along with the gesture. I didn't understand. This didn't feel right. What was wrong with me? I tried to convince myself that the last lingering threads of my hangover were interfering with my emotions. I didn't believe that though.

Usually I would jump at the chance to go to bed with him, but at the moment, all I could think about was the difference between Derek and Nick. Derek was forceful with his kisses, while Nick was gentler and his lips were softer. Derek was eager to take it straight to sex, while Nick seemed to like taking his time. At least I thought I remembered him taking his time.

Derek pulled back and stared at me with a frown. When I didn't say anything, he sat back up and breathed out a heavy sigh. "You're not feeling this right now, are you?" he asked.

"I'm still not really feeling like myself," I explained it away. "Today hasn't been my day."

Derek nodded, leaving it at that.

I got up and started walking toward the bedroom, about to get ready for my date with Nick. I mentally slapped myself. It wasn't a date. But what else do you call a man and woman going to dinner together when it has nothing to do with business? Even if it wasn't a date-date it was still a date, right? Did that even make sense?

I wandered into my room, slipping my clothes off and sliding the black dress over my body. I was smoothing out my outfit when Derek walked in.

"You going somewhere?" he frowned, standing in the doorway.

"I have a meeting in a little while," I lied, slipping my feet into the heels.

"With who?" Why did he have to ask that question?

"A client," I said vaguely.

"One of the ones you missed this morning?" Derek watched me pull my blazer on.

"Yeah," I nodded, thinking that was a good enough cover. "Mrs. Wembley is worried about the hearing."

"Oh, so you talked to her after I left," he said.

"Yeah," I answered simply, glad that he was basically making up my story for me so I didn't have to think of something on the spot.

"What time is your meeting?"

"Eight."

He padded across the room and flopped down, lying back on the bed. "When should I expect you back?"

Shit. It hadn't even crossed my mind that I didn't have the slightest clue how long I might stay out. What if I ended up not coming home again? How was I going to explain that? No way Derek would believe I spent all night hanging out with Mrs. Wembley, and I didn't think the Monica excuse would work again either.

"I don't know," I shrugged. "You know how long these things can last sometimes."

"I doubt you'd be out passed ten. I don't think a legal meeting is going to last more than an hour. Two hours, tops."

"We might go for drinks afterward," I said, hoping that didn't sound too unlikely.

"Drinks?" Derek chuckled. "You and Mrs. Wembley? Good God, am I going to get a knock at the door from the police? That woman has no limits and based on last night, I'd say you're not real aware of your own either."

Oh, thanks.

"Relax," I said, fluffing my hair a bit. "It'll be fine."

"You'll call me this time, I hope," he raised his eyebrows.

"Sure."

I descended the stairs with Derek behind me and grabbed my phone, wallet and keys, ready to head out the door. Derek stopped me, placing a hand on my waist and pulling me back against him.

"I'm already miss you," he said seductively. My discomfort returned with his words.

"Yeah," I awkwardly smiled, waiting for him to release me.

His lips pressed to my cheek and then my neck. "A lot," he insisted.

"Derek, I have to go," I reminded him as he moved the collar of my blazer to the side, placing a kiss on my collarbone.

"Fine," Derek groaned, letting me go.

And just like that, I was out the door heading to my silver SUV. It was a nice night, not as chilly as the previous evening. The light breeze felt wonderful on my face as I backed out of the driveway with my windows rolled down.

I drove through Tinley Park, headed for the interstate. The traffic was backed up pretty badly when I merged onto I-57. The man in the car next to me was eating a bowl of cereal while our vehicles barely crawled along at a measly six miles per hour. The woman in the Jeep on my opposite side was doing her makeup and texting. I rolled my eyes.

After several agonizingly long minutes, traffic finally started to flow normally again and I smiled at the sight of the bright, full moon over Lake Michigan as I made my way into downtown Chicago.

My phone lit up with a text from Nick as I took the exit for Lakeshore Drive.

"I'm here," the text read.

I smiled at the message, making a left at the next intersection. Five minutes later I pulled into a parking garage across the street from the restaurant.

"So am I," I texted back, rolling up my windows and unbuckling my seatbelt.

I turned off the engine, about ready to hop out when a tap on my back window startled me. I looked up to see Nick standing there in tight fitting black slacks and a white button up. He was too casual for a blazer, but he looked amazing.

"Hey," he smiled and I swear I saw a twinkle in his eyes.

I took in his appearance. He looked so hot. Part of me almost didn't want to go to dinner anymore, and have sex with him in my backseat instead. My stomach growling silenced that idea.

"Hi," I smiled back, getting out of the vehicle.

"You look gorgeous, Carrie," Nick said, letting his eyes slowly travel up and down my body.

"You don't look too horrible either," I giggled.

His grin widened and I was ready to drool. "Well I didn't want to outdo you outfit-wise," he chuckled.

We started walking across the parking garage toward the street and butterflies erupted in my stomach as I felt his arm snake around my waist and pull me closer to him. I leaned into his side as we walked down the sidewalk. The action reminded me of walking through the hotel garage with Derek the night before. Only this felt different. This felt better.

"Maybe we can get over there without dying," Nick said, nodding to the restaurant across the busy road. "Let's make a run for it."

We dodged a couple cars, causing one to honk at us as we jogged across the street to the opposite sidewalk. I mentally cursed at myself for wearing heels, seeing as they're not exactly the ideal footwear for running.

Nick's arm never left my side as we walked into the restaurant. I looked around at the fancy white linen-clad tables and the candles burning in the center of each. Everyone around us was dressed exceptionally well, but I had no doubt Nick was the most attractive person in the whole building. Maybe even the whole city.

"Reservation for Granger," Nick said to the hostess who looked like she didn't think he was too bad looking either.

"Right this way," she smiled, blushing when she looked at him.

We followed her to a table in the back, thanking her in unison when she placed our menus in front of us.

"What would you like to drink?" The brunette asked us, staring at Nick who wasn't giving her a second glance.

"Champagne," he answered for both of us, eyes focused only on me.

I made a mental note not to drink too much. I didn't want things to end up like the night before. I wanted to actually remember everything.

"So how was your day?" Nick asked me after the hostess left to retrieve our drinks.

I tried not to get too deep in thought about how odd it was that my one-night stand was asking about my day.

"Definitely could've been better," I said with a light laugh. "But I'm glad to be here right now."

"Oh yeah?" He cocked an eyebrow with a sexy smirk.

I nodded, watching the woman return with champagne.

"Your server is Ashley," she smiled, still only looking at Nick. "She should be over in a few minutes."

"Thank you," we both said again as she went back to her podium.

"How 'bout you?" I asked. "How was your day?"

"Do you want the truth?" Nick asked.

"Preferably."

"It wasn't the best day I've had," he sighed.

I watched his fingers tug at his shirt collar and suddenly became very aware of my lack of pants. Shrugging the thought off, I tried to keep things professional.

"I've been thinking a lot about what happened and I felt like discussing the situation with you would be a good start to fixing it," I explained.

Nick rested his elbows on the table. "I understand. I'm glad you called me."

Ashley finally came by and took our order. I decided on a seafood alfredo and Nick ordered spaghetti.

"How'd your fiancé take the news?" Nick asked, watching the candle flicker between us.

"News?" I raised an eyebrow. "If you mean you and me, I didn't tell him."

He frowned and began to tap his fingers on the tablecloth rhythmically. "Why not? I thought you were going to. Here I was expecting him to come beat my ass all day."

"I decided it was better if I just didn't say anything for now," I told him. "He was already pissed enough for my disappearing act, so I ended up telling him I was with my friend, Monica."

Nick brushed his fingers through his thick, wavy bangs. "You know he's going to find out eventually, right?"

I knew that. I dreaded it like hell. I couldn't begin to imagine how that conversation would go.

Ashley returned with our entrees, setting them in front of us. I'd been starving for a couple hours and was ready to dive into my food. We spent a few minutes eating without conversation until Nick finally spoke up again.

"Carrie," he said, twirling his fork in the spaghetti. "I think now is a good time to talk about us."

My silverware hit the plate with a clang causing me to jump in my seat. I took in a sharp breath and ignored the sound of my pulse pounding in my ears. I had initiated this. I was the one who wanted to talk about it. I couldn't chicken out now – no matter how badly I wanted to.

"Alright. Let's talk," I said, and folded my hands neatly on the edge of the table.

Nick set down his utensils, turning all his attention to me. "I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say here. I've never slept with a woman who was engaged before."

"And I've never cheated in my life," I nodded, able to understand how awkward he must feel.

"What is talking about it going to achieve?" His dark, neatly groomed brows were drawn together in a tight frown.

I thought about my memory, assuming it was real, of Derek and Christine. "Nick, I need to know for damn certain whether or not what happened between Derek and Christine actually happened," I blurted out.

Nick's frown softened to concern, and maybe even pity. I didn't want his pity. He was equally guilty.

"Yes." His answer was quiet, but the ringing in my ears wasn't.

"Do you have any proof?" I questioned him. I could feel a migraine on the horizon. "Or am I supposed to go on your word? Because I can't have the impending conversation with him and accuse him of infidelity he didn't commit." That would be the cherry on top of a very bad fruitcake.

He leaned back in his chair, the unbuttoned portion of his shirt showcasing more of his chest as a result. "I'm sure the hotel has security cameras."

"What am I supposed to do? Go ask the front desk if I can watch their footage to find out if my fiancé's a cheater? I seriously doubt they'd give me the time of day." I could feel my cheeks beginning to flush; partially in frustration and partially in awe of the exposed part of Nick's body I couldn't keep my eyes off of.

Nick chuckled at my exasperation. "If it's that important to you, I can talk to them about it for you," he offered.

"Yes, because one one-night stand trying to find out if another one-night stand took place isn't a bizarre thing at all to ask the concierge about," I nodded sarcastically.

A sweet, cheesy smile played at the corners of his lips. "Just trust me. I know what to do."