I just had sex with my boss.
Not just any sex—unprotected sex, and oh, my God, was my best friend going to freak out.
His phone chimed as he buckled his belt in place, and he checked it then scowled.
I wasn’t sure what to say because what the heck do you say after something like that?
So I was glad when he blurted out, "I gotta go. I'm needed downstairs…" When he leaned forward and pulled me toward himself with one hand on my neck, I didn't protest.
The kiss was short and chaste, but I absorbed it. "We need to talk about this," he said gruffly.
Then he was gone, slipping out the door, careful to shield me from whoever may pass, and I was alone to obsess over what just happened.
And stew in regret and panic.
4
NATHAN
I arrived at the festival grounds for the candle lighting ceremony under string lights crisscrossed over the cobblestone square.
A small crowd had gathered near the central stage where rows of candles waited to be lit.
Children ran around their parents' legs, clutching glow sticks and half-eaten funnel cakes, while volunteers in red aprons distributed programs and song sheets.
I adjusted my tie and scanned the crowd, searching for auburn hair and hazel eyes.
After what happened in Ember's office yesterday, she had every right not to show up.
Part of me wondered if she'd even return to work on Monday morning.
The hospital board meeting had run an hour over schedule, dragging through budget projections and staffing concerns until my patience had worn thin.
By the time I'd returned to her office, the lights were off and her desk was cleared.
I'd stood in her doorway for a full minute, staring at the empty chair, before pulling out my phone and dialing her number.
The call had gone straight to voicemail.
I'd left a message, asking her to confirm her attendance at tonight's event—but I hadn't heard back.
Now, standing in the middle of the festival with my Lightkeeper robe folded over one arm, I felt ridiculous.
She wasn't coming.
Why would she?
I'd crossed every professional boundary yesterday.
Not just crossed—obliterated, destroyed, decimated.
The memory of being buried inside her with her moans and those tiny gasps she made filling the room tormented me.
I'd barely slept last night while she played on repeat in my mind.
And now I had to stand in front of this community and pretend to be their symbol of moral virtue.
The Lightkeeper—a man of integrity and family values. A respected leader who embodied everything Beacon Hill held dear.
