Page 68 of The CEO's Sweetheart Deal
My throat tightens, and I nod, barely.
“I couldn’t,” I whisper. “It hurt too much.”
He walks up beside me but doesn’t touch me. “I kept mine,” he says. “All of them. Every single one.”
I close my eyes, fighting a fresh rush of emotion. Of course he did. Of course he kept them.
Tears sting the corners of my eyes before I can stop them. I swipe at them quickly with the edge of my sleeve, because I don’t want him to see. I’m not ready for him to see.
“They meant something to me, Alice,” he says. “They still do.”
My eyes drift over another photo — us sitting on the floor of my dorm room, surrounded by ramen cups and printouts of a failed group project. I’d forgotten how messy and beautiful we were back then.
“I didn’t think you remembered any of this,” I murmur.
“I remembered everything,” he says. “Even the things I tried not to.”
He gestures toward the center of the room where a large picnic blanket has been laid out on the hardwood floor. A wooden tray holds two glasses of sparkling water, small dishes of olives and soft cheeses, and a small box tied with string. Truffles, maybe, or something like that.
I hesitate for a breath, still caught in the tangle of hanging memories, before walking slowly to the blanket. We sit down across from each other, the candles flickering around us like fireflies frozen in time.
He lets a quiet moment settle between us before he speaks again.
“I meant what I said,” he begins. “About Rooted Pantry. I want you back. Not as COO. Not as my employee. As my partner. My equal. You were always the soul of that company, Alice.”
I shake my head slowly, a faint smile ghosting across my lips. “You just liked it when I argued with you.”
His smile returns, crooked and boyish. “I still do.”
But then it fades, replaced with something deeper — raw and completely unguarded.
“That’s not all I want,” he says, voice steady but low. “I don’t just want you as a business partner.”
I blink, watching him closely, heart hammering in my chest.
“I want to be your partner in life,” he continues. “I love you. I know it’s messy. I know I messed up. But I love you, and I want to do this – for real this time. I want to be your boyfriend. I want to take you on actual dates. I want to argue with you over which route to take and what TV show to watch. I want it all.”
The words hit me like a rush of wind to the chest. My breath catches.
“I know I broke your trust,” he says. “But I swear to you, I’ve never stopped loving you. Not for one second.”
I stare at him, trying to find the catch. The too-good-to-be-true. But there’s nothing in his face except truth. And hope. And a little fear.
It’s a mirror, a perfect replica of everything that I’m feeling inside of myself.
“I love you too,” I say, voice trembling, and I can feel the walls inside me give way, finally, all at once.
And just like that, everything shifts.
He moves toward me, slowly, and I meet him halfway. The kiss is soft and careful, like we’re rediscovering each other. But it builds into something certain, something warm, something that tastes like forgiveness and feels like a first breath after drowning.
We kiss on the blanket, surrounded by flickering light and the silent company of our memories.
And just like that, I know that, yes, this is the end of one story.
But it’s also the beginning of a whole new one.
EPILOGUE
