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I cannot believe this is happening. I knew once I found out Chase was the Chairman of the Board that dating him could be a slight problem but I never thought I would be faced with an ultimatum. Chase or the Foundation? The one place that helped me when I was broken, when I had nothing, when I could have died.

What the hell am I going to tell Chase? Nothing. I can’t tell him anything. It’s obvious I won’t be able to have dinner with him tomorrow. Now I have to figure out what to do. Fresh tears roll down my face and my whole body heats. Slight tremors spiral through my limbs and I hit the gas on my Honda Civic, racing to my apartment.

I burst through the door, racked with heaving sobs before I ever make it to the couch. Maria is there and when she sees my face, she jumps off of the kitchen barstool, ends whatever call she was on with a quick, “Shit! I gotta go!” then she’s to me in an instant. “Gigi, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” I shake my head but I can’t stop crying and heaving. The pain is so fierce I ball my hands into fists and press them to my eye sockets to stop the waterworks. “Me estás asustando!” she shakes me. “You’re scaring me, Gigi! Speak,Hablar!” she pleads.

I take deep breaths, willing my emotions to settle so that I can spare my friend her anguish over seeing me like this. “Work found out about Chase and me,” I barely get out as the tears stream down my face. She wipes them away and holds my cheeks.

“And?” Her eyes show her concern.

“And…And they said that either Chase and I have to break it off or he has to step down from the Board.” She hands me a tissue, and I dab at my tears. “Or I have to quit or they’ll fire me!” I sob.

“¿Qué mierda!That’s crazy, Gigi!Lo siento mucho, I’m sorryCara Bonita!Please don’t cry. It will be okay.” She pets my hair and hands me another tissue.

“But it won’t!” I say with misery. “Either I lose my job, a job that I love and worked so hard for, or I lose Chase. The man of my dreams!” I cry harder.

“When do you have to tell them your answer?” she asks then helps me up from my crumpled position on the floor to sit with me on the couch.

I blow my nose loudly into the tissue and grab another. “Friday, first thing.”

“Talk to Chase, he’ll know what to do,” she suggests, but I know I can’t do that. I shake my head.

If I tell him he could break up with me and that will beyond hurt. It will gut me. Already I’ve invested too much of my heart in this thing between us. I haven’t wanted to be with a man the way I want to be with him in longer than I can remember. It’s as if I’d forgotten what it truly was to be excited about a man. To look forward to every moment you’re with them. To want them and know they want you. God, what am I going to do?

“I’m going to take a shower and go to bed. I need to think this through.” I take a deep calming breath and push off the couch and start walking down the hallway.

“Okay,Cara Bonita, but I think you should talk to him. This involves him too,” she reminds me.

I don’t need to be reminded. The heavy ache and crushing anxiety burning my heart is enough. The thought that he could lose his position on the Board of the Foundation, the one he founded, breaks my heart, shattering it into a million tiny shards. And I could never ask him to pick me over what he’s built. The question plaguing me now is whether or not I could quit or let myself be fired from the one place that made me feel whole again? The organization that pulled me out of hell, gave me a fresh start. I owe the Foundation so much more than harming their good name with a tawdry love affair. Ms. Peterson is right. I made a horrible decision to get involved with Chase and now I’m going to reap what I’ve sewn.

Taking a scalding hot shower, I try to numb the pain. It doesn’t help. Punishing the canvas doesn’t change the picture, it just distorts the view. After my shower I fall into bed still cursing for allowing myself to get involved with Chase. God, but he’s everything I could want in a man. He’s strong, drop dead gorgeous, takes care of himself financially, a God in the bedroom and he seems to likeme. To see thereal me. Not just redheaded, pasty white, Gillian who works at a nonprofit and lives in a shoebox with her wild roommate.

Maybe this is a sign? Maybe this is the universe’s way of telling me that we weren’t meant to be. The tears slip down my cheeks again, wetting my pillow.

I hear a tap at my bedroom door. “Gigi, your cell phone rang while you were in the shower and then you received a text from Chase.” Of course I did. I sigh loudly and stick my hand into the air. She hands it to me and sits on the side of the bed, petting my hip in a soothing rhythm. “Will you be okay? I have rehearsal, but I can totally blow it off if you need me?” she offers.

“Ria, your show is in less than two weeks. You know you can’t do that. Now go. I’ve got my big girl panties on. I’ll be fine.”

She squeezes my hip one last time and leaves. I stare down at the screen. One missed call from Chase and one text message from him.

To: Gillian Callahan

From: Chase Davis

I tried calling. Call me.

I sigh. There is no way in hell I’m going to call him tonight. I can’t deal with myself let alone an inquisition. I text him instead.

To: Chase Davis

From: Gillian Callahan

Going to bed early. Can’t do dinner tomorrow. Another time maybe.

Okay that should do it. One step at a time. The desire to hear his voice, just capture even one small “Baby” from his lips would soothe this hole in the pit of my being. I have to be strong, if not for me, for him. He didn’t sign on for this. I’m not going to allow a two week long relationship to ruin what he’s worked so hard for. His text message is immediate.

To: Gillian Callahan

From: Chase Davis

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