What began as a test has become a lie that threatens whatever we’re building. If she discovers this deception now, after tonight, the breach of trust might be irreparable.
I need to tell her the truth.
But the potential loss feels disproportionate to the practical reality of our arrangement.
We've known each other for less than three months, our relationship began as a business transaction, and yet the thought of her looking at me with betrayal rather than the warmth I saw tonight creates a hollow sensation in my chest.
***
Morning light streams through the blinds, waking me earlier than usual. I didn't sleep well, my mind cycling through scenarios and consequences well into the night. The kiss. The board. The emails.
Any one of them would be manageable. Together, they aren't.
I hear movement in the kitchen, Rosanna must be up early, and find myself uncharacteristically hesitant to face her.
When I finally emerge from my room, she's at the kitchen island with her sketchbook open beside her coffee mug, hair pulled back in its usual messy knot. She looks up when I enter, a smile forming that contains both warmth and a hint of uncertainty. It's an acknowledgment of the shift that occurred between us last night.
"Morning," she says, pushing a mug of coffee toward me, prepared exactly as I prefer it. The simple gesture of consideration tightens something in my chest. We've developed these small domestic rhythms so gradually I hardly noticed them forming, yet they've become essential components of my days.
"Rosanna," I begin, not entirely certain where the sentence will end.
Rosanna's expression shifts slightly, a vulnerability appearing beneath her usual openness.
“You’re worried the kiss wasn’t part of the contract,” she says, her attempt at lightness not quite concealing the question beneath.
I move around the island to stand beside her, close enough to see the flecks of amber in her brown eyes, the single freckle near her left temple that emerges in strong light.
"It wasn't."
What happened between us wasn't part of the plan.
I should tell her everything now—about the emails, about the board's plans for the storefront.
"Rosanna…" I try again. "There is something I need to tell you." The words form in my mind but don't reach my lips, held back by fear I'm unaccustomed to experiencing.
Before I can push through this uncharacteristic hesitation, my phone buzzes with an incoming call from the office.
I glance at the screen, then back at Rosanna, caught between professional obligation and personal priority for perhaps the first time in my career.
"I have to take this," I say, reluctance evident in my tone. "But we should talk. Later. About everything."
She nods, that small smile returning, unaware of the multiple layers in my words.
As I step away to answer the call, the weight of unspoken truths settles more heavily on my shoulders.
The call is about the company. The silence between us is about something far more fragile.
I’ve always had a strategy.
Now I don’t.
And for the first time in my life, I don’t know which loss I’m willing to accept.
Chapter twenty
Rosanna
The kiss changes nothing and everything at once.
