“But it’s not like that,” I continued. “The more I try to stay away from Truth, the more I want to be around her. And that’s a problem.”
“Damn.” Kaisen leaned back in his chair, processing. “Feelin’ your surrogate is messy as hell. What about Alexis? You been parading around town with her like it’s the real deal.”
“It’s real in the ways that matter,” I said, my voice steady even though the words felt like a lie. “Right now, I need that. So, I stay professional with Truth.”
Kaisen nodded slowly. “Yeah, that’s best. Last thing you need is having to choose between two women.”
“Alexis fits the aesthetic,” I said, more to myself than to him. “Keeps our parents off my back. Mama’s been pushing me to settle down with someone respectable. Alexis checks all the boxes.”
“I know,” Kaisen said quietly.
I rubbed the towel over my face, buying myself a few seconds before I had to say the next part out loud. “I just hope I can keep shit in check.”
The silence stretched between us. Not uncomfortable, just heavy with the weight of things neither of us knew how to fix.
“You think you can?” Kaisen asked finally.
I looked at him. “I don’t know.”
It was the most honest thing I’d said in weeks.
Kaisen leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and stared at the pool. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing the right thing. Keeping it professional. Not letting it get messy.”
“Yeah.”
“But Amai?” He turned to look at me. “If it’s already messy in your head, it’s gonna be messy in real life. You can’t compartmentalize feelings the way you compartmentalize business.”
I wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him he was wrong, and that I’d been compartmentalizing my entire life, and it had worked just fine. But the truth was sitting right there between us, unavoidable.
I’d sent Truth $50,000 she hadn’t earned yet. I’d stayed on the phone with her for forty-five minutes while she cried. I’d driven myself to the clinic instead of sending my driver because I needed to be the one to take her home.
That wasn’t professional.
That wasn’t transactional.
That was something else entirely.
“I’ll figure it out,” I said finally.
Kaisen nodded, but I could see the doubt in his eyes. The same doubt I felt every time I told myself I was in control.
“You need anything?” he asked.
“Nah. I’m good.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
He stood, stretched, and started walking toward the house. At the door, he paused and looked back at me.
“For the record,” he said, “I hope it works out. The next transfer. I know how much this means to you.”
I nodded. Didn’t trust myself to say anything else.
When he was gone, I sat there alone by the pool, water dripping from my hair, staring at nothing.
Six weeks.
