She glanced over her shoulder but kept walking.

"Aly, I shouldn't have said what I said."

Alyssa unlocked her driver's door and pulled it open. She paused when the wall of steel and glass separated them. "No, you shouldn't have. Although that's not the same as saying you don't believe what you said, is it?" She sank into her seat and pulled the door shut.

Her words sank in as her engine whirred to life. Believe...? Marco gasped and pounded on the window. Through the glass, she looked up at him but then reversed the car out of the spot. Marco held out his hands. "Alyssa, wait! I didn't..."

She pulled away. Marco's gaze followed her taillights as she crossed the lot, his mind spinning into overdrive. Every bone in his body demanded he go after her. But for now-for her-he could be patient.

Realization slammed into him. He could be patient because...over the past week, he'd been building toward a resolution. She was one of his oldest friends, the only person who accepted him unconditionally, and the woman he loved-

Marco sucked in a breath.

Good God. He did. He loved her. Her absence had made him sure of that.

In her presence these past few weeks, when he'd started smiling and laughing again-that wasn't fake like he'd assumed. And that didn't include the comfort and solace she'd brought him that had given him not only peaceful sleep, but a reprieve from the nightly punishment of his subconscious.

To think that all this time he'd been looking for a purpose, for who he was supposed to be now, for a path that led from the dark into the light. And he'd found it in the one person who had been there all along.

None of this fixed all the things that complicated a possible relationship. But it was time for Marco to man up and admit what was going on with him instead of hiding behind a false facade and the pretense that, somehow, she was at fault.

Tomorrow, he would try again.

Chapter Twelve

Alyssa left the Washington Convention Center a little before noon, leaving plenty of time to make the hour-long trip back to Frederick for work. As good as the unexpected interview had gone, she was torn. If she received an offer and took it, it would be an admission she had no reason to stay in Frederick-an admission she wasn't ready to make yet.

The invitation to come to DC had arrived after a surprise phone interview on Wednesday. She'd submitted her resume for one of two event coordinator positions at the Convention Center back in April. When she never heard back, she had assumed her application had met the bottom of the circular file. Now she was one of five candidates they were bringing in for on-site interviews.

The idea of a job in the big city was exciting, but it also threw a lot into the air. She didn't know whether to sign a lease on an apartment, because she was no longer certain where she'd end up. Yet not signing a lease felt like she was already planning to go. It was a big mess that kept her mind in a tizzy the whole way up I-270 to home.

Back in her hotel room, she traded the dress pants, blouse, and heels she'd worn to the interview for her skinny black jeans, Chucks, and-she debated on the shirt. A week without access to a washing machine had left her in desperate need of a trip to the Laundromat. The last clean white shirt she had was the tank top with the scoop back Marco had criticized her for wearing.

Screw it.

She pulled it over her head, added a necklace and the diamond studs Marco had given her years ago, and put her hair in a ponytail. The ends were curlier than usual because of how she'd styled her hair for the interview, and it made her feel cute. She appreciated the boost.

Now, what to do about food? At this point, her options were the vending machine down the hall, a fast-food drive-thru, or the really good, really free food at Whiskey's.

Alyssa drummed her fingers on the bathroom counter. She'd not only been in the same room with Marco last night, she'd also talked to him. And she'd survived. If he were hanging out in the break room today, she'd survive that, too.

Right. Okay. So... She grabbed her purse and keys and headed to work.

Of course, Marco was there. Just act normal, she thought, giving herself a pep talk. "Hey, guys." She slipped into a seat, placing Van between her and Marco.

"Well, well, if it isn't Alyssa Scott," Van said, elbowing her.

She squinted at him. "Who are you, again?"

Tommy guffawed. Quiet sounded loudly from Marco's seat, but Alyssa was sure she could feel his gaze. It tempted her to look down the table at him, but she held fast and focused on the southwestern macaroni and cheese she was fast becoming addicted to.

"Seriously, what's been up with you? Everything okay? Eric said you were sick last night," Van said.

She swallowed a bite. "No, I'm fine. I've just been busy looking for an apartment and...stuff." She shrugged. "Don't worry"-she winked at Van-"it wasn't your cooking or anything. I'd tell you."

He grinned and rocked his chair back. "It's a good thing I like you."

Alyssa smiled. "Sure is. Where's Eric today?" She asked the question before thinking, and she hated the heat that rose to her cheeks when she thought of Marco accusing her of leading Eric on.

Van rose and collected his dishes. "The band's been keeping him running with special requests all morning. Now that the waitstaff is starting to arrive, Pete's going to put two of you on the green room until they go onstage. I need Eric in the kitchen."

"Oh, okay. Does this happen a lot?"

"No," he said. "But when a band has a two-day gig, they often come in early on the second day and then this happens. And"-he leaned down next to her and spoke under his breath-"these guys act like they're entitled rock stars, demanding this and that all damn day. Every time they're here." He rolled his eyes.

Alyssa grinned. "They are good."

Van and Tommy groaned. "Don't tell me you're another drooling fan girl," Van said. "My opinion of you will forever be ruined."

Alyssa turned in her seat to reply and found herself gazing into Marco's intense blue eyes, framed by the reappearance of the circles she'd helped chase away a week ago. "Uh..."

Van shook his head. "One mention of the rock stars from hell and her brain goes to mush. I have one word for you, Alyssa. Are you ready?"

She blinked away from Marco's hold on her and focused on Van. "Um. Sure."

"Overrated."

"You think so?"

Tommy smiled and got up from the table. "Don't get him started. Fair warning."

Van glared at the other man, then turned back to her. "Way, way overrated."

She forced herself to shake off the dazed feeling Marco's sad eyes had caused. "Hmm. So what you're saying is, they're the best band ever."

Van turned on his heel. "That's it. Now you're just being cruel."