Page 44 of The CEO's Sweetheart Deal
We walk in silence for half a block before I find myself saying, "It's not worth it, you know."
"What isn't?"
"Sacrificing everything for success." I pause, surprised by my own candor. "I almost did that with Rooted Pantry. For the first three years, I barely slept. Barely ate. Definitely didn't date." I laugh lightly. "My apartment was just a place to shower and change clothes between work shifts. I didn’t even have a plant at home. Moved them all to my office where I would see them and remember to water them."
Oscar nods thoughtfully. "I get that. But look at what you built."
"Yeah, but at what cost?" I look up at the night sky, searching for stars beyond the city lights. "Sometimes I wonder if I missed out on too much along the way."
We stop at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. Oscar turns to face me fully, and there's an intensity in his eyes that makes my heart skip.
"I've been wondering the same thing lately," he admits.
The light changes, but neither of us moves immediately. There's a shift happening between us — I can feel it in the air.
"When did someone as successful as you start questioning his life choices?" I ask, trying to keep my tone light as we resume walking.
"Probably around the time I walked into Rooted Pantry and found you there."
My breath catches, and I focus on putting one foot in front of the other. "Are we really going to talk about this?"
"Maybe it's time we did."
We've reached a small park that lies between us and our hotel. By unspoken agreement, we veer onto one of its paths, prolonging our walk. Palm trees sway overhead, and the distant sound of waves breaking against the shore creates a soothing backdrop.
"You know," he says. "I've made a lot of difficult decisions in business. Acquisitions, layoffs, pivots… but nothing was as hard as walking away from Organic Now."
My throat tightens. This is the conversation we've been dancing around since he popped back up, and even though I’ve wanted to dive deeper I’m now discovering I’m terrified to.
It has to be done, though. If I walk away from this opportunity, I’ll always regret it. "You left because you had a big job opportunity. Yeah it hurt, but–”
“No. That wasn’t it. Not the real reason.” He stops walking and turns to me. "I told myself it was what was best for our business."
"And it wasn't?"
"No." He shakes his head slowly. "That was the lie I told myself so I could sleep at night."
I cross my arms, feeling suddenly defensive. "So what was the truth?"
Oscar takes a deep breath, and I can see him steeling himself. "The truth is that I couldn't bear to work alongside you while harboring unrequited love."
The words hit me like a physical blow. I stare at him, trying to process what he's just said. "What are you talking about?"
"When I told you how I felt and you turned me down—" his voice catches slightly. "I thought I could handle it. I thought I could compartmentalize my feelings and focus on our company. But every day was torture, Alice. Being so close to you, working side by side, dreaming together about our future — a future I wanted to share with you in every way…"
I feel like the ground beneath my feet has suddenly shifted. "Oscar…”
"I convinced myself that taking that job offer was about securing my future. That the connections and financial stability would ultimately benefit me more than staying with Organic Now. But that was bullshit." He runs a hand through his hair infrustration. "I ran away because I was heartbroken and couldn't face you every day knowing you didn't feel the same way."
We've reached a small bench beneath a streetlight, and I sink onto it, my legs suddenly unsteady. Oscar remains standing, as if he's afraid to get too close.
"All these years," I whisper. "I thought you left because you didn't believe in what we were building. That you saw a better opportunity and took it without looking back."
"I never stopped believing in us — in what we could build together." His voice is low, raw with emotion. "But I couldn't separate the business from my feelings for you. I knew that if I stayed every day would just become harder. I knew I would never get over you, Alice.”
I'm reeling from his confession, twelve years of hurt and resentment suddenly cast in an entirely different light. All this time, I'd built a narrative in my head about Oscar's ambition trumping our friendship and partnership, when the reality was something else entirely.
"You could have told me the truth," I finally say.
