“Can you watch the soup? Keep making your croissants, I’ll… I’ll be back. I’m sorry. I’ll be back.”
He can’t even look at me when he runs away, leaving me alone with my feverish need.
Chapter Fourteen
THEO
Isprint to my room and slam the door behind me, flinching at the unintended sound. Everything is out of my control. Wrong. Everything is wrong. This is wrong. I’m wrong… and the soup. That’s wrong, too. It’s ready. It’s probably bubbling over, and I need to turn it off, but all I can do is shut myself away. Five minutes. I need five minutes to gather my thoughts.
That isn’t what happens.
Collecting myself turns into pacing the room, and five minutes turns into half an hour. I can’t avoid Evie forever. We work together. Right now, we’re living together. No, avoiding isn’t an option. This is precisely why I don’t get involved with the people I work with.
Going back and kissing her until we’re breathless isn’t an option either, even if it’s what I want to do.
The more time I spend away from her—blocked from her sugary smile and sweet laughter—the surer I am of what I mustsay. This happened because we avoided our feelings instead of setting boundaries, but we’re adults. We can do better.
I force myself to leave the room. Every step feels like I’m stuck in Jello, slow and graceless. If I hide from her, I don’t have to talk about my feelings—the feelings I’m not allowed to have. How I feel for her makes me a bad boss and friend, and I don’t want to be either of those things. I’m better than that—aren’t I?
Evie stands by the stovetop, wooden spoon in hand, looking at me with wide eyes. It’s like she didn’t expect me to come out at all.
“I think it’s done,” she murmurs.
“It is.” I keep my head ducked low as I move closer.
How embarrassing. I can’t even look her in the eye. It’s like I’ve never kissed someone before—and I’ll admit, it’s been a while, but it hasn’t been so long that I should act likethis.
The kiss isn’t the problem. That’s not what makes my skin crawl. All the reasons we can’t kiss again—and how badly I want to—drive me wild. I don’t know how to address it. Maybe she doesn’t, either.
Evie shuffles away. The kitchen is clean now, and her dough is nowhere to be seen, so she’s found a way to keep busy. Lucky her. I haven’t. All I’ve been able to do is think about her soft lips and how her hips felt under my touch.
“I’ll get you a bowl.” It’s the least I can do. “Want to continue watching our movie?”
“Sure. I’ll put it on.”
We’ve been taking turns picking entertainment, but we’ve been stuck on my choice for the last few nights—a ridiculously long documentary. Hopefully, we can finish it tonight, but that’s not why I asked her to stay with me.
We have to talk.
I carry our bowls to the living room and set them on the coffee table. Instead of sitting on the couch, like I usually do, Iget comfortable in the rocking chair—as much as I can be in a wooden chair.
Evie sits in the middle of the couch, looking lost. She stares into the depths of the soup, and I stare at the TV screen.
“I’m sorry.” Eventually, my apology breaks the silence.
“Don’t—“
“I am. I’m sorry—and I’m sorry that I’m sorry.” It’s like I’m fighting to get the words out, my throat closing up with each sentence I utter.
“But it’s fine.” Her voice goes soft. “I wanted it. I wanted to kiss you, Theo.”
That should make it better, but it doesn’t. I finally meet her gaze, and my heart splinters. Guilt and need shatter me. The pieces fly in different directions, pulling me two ways. I don’t know how to feel. She wanted to kiss me, and there’s a good chance she still wants it. I do, too.
Her soft lips on mine are all I can think about. They’re tugged into a frown now, and I want to do anything to make her smile again.
“It was unprofessional,” I intone. “Professionalism is important, considering our situation. What happened in the kitchen… it can’t happen again. Don’t you agree?”
Hell, I hardly agree with myself. I clutch my spoon tighter, waiting for her confirmation. That will make it easier to hold myself back.
