Page 78 of The Roommate Subtext

He should give her the chance to tell him the truth.

Blake checked the plants throughout the house, the motions automatic even as his mind continued to race. He spritzed the air plants, then set a few extra-dry succulents into a dish of water. Working around the room, he pinched off dead leaves, watered a dry pot or two, rotated those in the window so they wouldn’t lean. He understood plants. They broadcast their needs through their leaves and flowers and soil, and he responded accordingly. He was great at paying attention to their subtle communication. There was no reason he couldn’t do the same with a romantic partner. He cared for these plants, and he could care for another person, too, with the same diligence.

Maybe he was scared. Not scared of caring, but of being cared for. Being open and vulnerable and honest. Being both Blake and the Scarlet Pimpernel. Right now, if either of those identities was rejected, he had the other half to fall back on.

It didn’t feel like a double life, though. It felt like half a life.

He wanted to be whole.

If Maggie was the real thing, if she was genuine and honest and truly authentic as herself and as Curious Rose, maybe he could be authentically himself as well. All of himself. If he was honest about his feelings and hopes—Did he love her? Was he falling in love? Was it too soon even to wonder?—there would be nothing else to fall back on. She might want nothing at all except an article. She might want each half of him separately, and in different ways, but not the entirety.

Or she might want everything.

And if he bailed now, he would never get the chance to find out.

Blake nearly jumped out of his skin as the front door opened. Maggie spotted him standing by the wall of plants. “You didn’t lock it.” She gave him a tentative smile.

“Distracted, I guess.” He swallowed and tried to return her smile. If he was weird, she was going to think he never wanted to have sex with her again.

Maggie slipped off her shoes. “You’re never distracted.”

“Sometimes I’m distracted.” He felt a strange, childish urge to stick his tongue out, a sign of how little he felt like himself. “Like tonight.”

“Well, good thing it’s just me. I could have been a murderer.” She set her keys in the key bowl and hung up her purse. He watched her, and tried not to watch her, as she went into the kitchen for some water. She stood in front of the fridge and chugged the entire glass before refilling it.

“Impressive,” he said.

Maggie smiled. Then her smile faded. She opened her mouth like she wanted to talk, then closed it again, then opened it a second time and asked, “Are we good?”

Blake’s heart twisted. Maybe she’d been worried all day. He tried to think of her as Rose, making up an interest in kink, lying to get him to reveal his identity. But then he thought of her in bed last night, her eager enthusiasm, the way she’d wanted everything he wanted to give her. If she wasn’t lying …

He tried to set aside all his own worries about revealing himself as the Pimpernel, and telling her the truth, and whatever might come after that. Instead, he focused on this person he cared about, his friend who was clearly worried about their friendship. He stepped into the kitchen, took the glass from her hand, and set it on the counter next to them. Then he took her in a hug.

Maggie stiffened, her hands going to his biceps in surprise, then she relaxed and wrapped her arms around him. It wasn’t romantic. It was the right kind of embrace for now.

“Yeah.” He squeezed her. “We’re good.”

She pressed her cheek against his and returned the hug. “OK. Are we gonna talk about it?”

“Nothing to talk about, right?” He stepped back. “We said that beforehand. That it didn’t have to mean anything.” It was the worst kind of half-truth, but all he could do was try to allay her concerns until he figured out how to tell her the rest.

She narrowed her eyes, studying him with a pensive look. Then her face relaxed. “OK, good.” She grabbed her water off the counter and headed into the bedroom.

Blake needed Rose to tell him the truth.

Maggie was barely changed into pajamas when a message from the Pimpernel popped up on her app.

Hey, he said, as if it was any other day.

She stared at the message, and all the emotions she’d been pushing back came flooding through her. She sank down onto her bed. That afternoon with Cora had been a whirlwind. She’d called Wiggins and explained her situation, Chauvel’s veiled threats, and her desire to break the contract anyway. Her lawyer had been calm and helpful, and he’d agreed to draft a letter to Chauvel to terminate the agreement first thing Monday morning. If she’d had any threats from Chauvel in writing, they might have some leverage against him, but even as is, Wiggins was confident she’d been guilty of no active wrongdoing.

She and Cora had also set up a meeting with their financial adviser. Tomorrow morning, while Chauvel was sending his letter, they would sit down with James and hash out all the worst-case scenarios.

Afterward, she’d be free of all of it. The investigation was still underway, but somehow, she wasn’t worried. She and Cora were on the same page for perhaps the first time in her life, and whatever happened, they would deal with it.

Which left the Pimpernel.

His message sat there, waiting for her reply. Several options lay ahead. She wasn’t going to turn him over to Chauvel, at least. But was she still going to meet him? And if so, was she going to confess?