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“I didn’t… I didn’t mean for any of this to happen—”

“You didn’t mean for it to happen, but you kept calling in?” he asked. There was hardness in his tone, but I heard the hurt hiding behind it.

I sniffled hard.

“The first time was just…”

“It was just what? What was it?”

“It was just supposed to be a fluke. I was listening, and… and you pissed me off. And I called without thinking.”

“And lied about who you were.”

“Because I knew it wouldn’t be professional to call you out on air as myself. It was never… I was not going to call again.”

“But you did. You called. Over and over.”

My gaze cut away, studying a crack in the glass as I tried to blink away the tears, to think past the grief.

“Why?” he asked, voice almost gentle. “Tell me why.”

“It was… it was a two-fold thing, I guess,” I admitted, looking back at him. “After our debate, I went home and wrote for the first time in months. And I selfishly wanted to keep having that inspiration.”

Silas let that land.

I could see him stitching together the Maggie he knew and the Madison persona I’d also shown him, making a Frankenstein’s monster of the two parts he hadn’t realized were all me.

“You write romance books.”

“Yes.”

It was his turn for his gaze to turn away, studying the wall, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

“What was the other reason?” he asked, glancing back at me.

“Your show.”

“My show?”

“I have a monthly meeting with them.” I flicked a hand up the stairwell. “And they were talking about your show. It was on the chopping block. But I talked them into giving you more time. And… and the streams were taking off from our call.”

“So, you thought you could keep calling and save the show… and write your book.”

“Yes.” A snort of bitter laughter escaped me, seeing it with my 20/20 hindsight.

“I can’t fault your logic there.”

“What?”

“You didn’t know me then. The show was about to get canceled. You needed it for inspiration. I can see how you thought you were doing something good for both of us.”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. Because we both knew that while it may have started one way, it didn’t stay that way. And there was no excuse for what came next.

“What I can’t fathom is how you could keep up the lie. After we kissed, after we got to know each other, when I told you things I’d never told anyone before, when I let you in, when you… when you made me care, made me want to believe in something I never would have put my faith to rest in before.”

“I know there’s no excuse,” I said. I flicked a tear off my cheek.

“Then why did you keep doing it? Keep lying to my face even as you melted into my touch? Even as you forced your way into my heart?”