I run my hand through my hair and close my eyes.
"I don't fucking know what I'm doing anymore, Rose." The honesty of it sits heavy in my throat when I say it out loud. "She's under my skin. Whatever you walked in on, it justhappened. I lost control."
"Are you saying you want to pursue something with her?"
"No.Fuckno."
Is that the truth?
I don't know anymore. I know I can't forgive her. This is physical. That's all it is. That's all it can be.
"Are you sure?" Rosalie tilts her head. "Because you don't even seem convinced of that yourself."
"I'm sure."
She looks at me for a long moment, the way she always looks at me when she's decided I'm lying and has chosen not to press it. The attorney look. Patient and certain and waiting for me to catch up to what she already knows.
"She's still married, Michael."
"I know that."
"And she doesn't know who you are."
"I know that, too."
"So, whatever this is—" she gestures at the general state of my office, "—it cannot continue the way it just did. You understand that, right?"
"Yeah," I say. "I know."
Rosalie doesn't look like she believes me.
I'm not sure I believe myself.
"I'm going to go wash my eyes out with bleach now, and we'll catch up later."
I give her a sad smile as she walks out and pulls the door shut behind her. Then I sit down at my desk and bang my forehead against it a couple of times.
"Not going to work." Blaire's voice comes from the doorway. "I've tried."
I lift my head. She's peeking around through the cracked door with an expression that is trying to be professional and landing somewhere closer to sheepish, which is its own kind of devastation. She’s fucking adorable, and I hate her for it.
"We should probably talk," she says.
I sit back in my chair and look at her. "Yeah, we should."
She walks in and takes a seat at the conference table across the office instead of the chairs at my desk. I stand to join her, and she holds up one hand. "No, you're fine where you are."
I chuckle. "Safe distance?"
She nods. "Safe distance."
"Fair enough." I settle back into my chair. "Listen, Mrs. Monroe—"
"I think we're at the Bennet and Blaire phase of our working relationship now, yeah?"
Something about that hits me in a way I wasn't equipped for.
"Blaire," I correct myself. "What just happened can’t happen again. I was out of line, and I take full responsibility for that. I will keep to the professional line moving forward, I will adhere to our schedule, and it won't look good to have you replaced at this stage, so I'm not going anywhere and neither are you." I hold her gaze. "I was acting on impulse, and I apologize."
