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"I'm sorry about last night," Kyler says over breakfast the next morning, his voice crackling with an unfamiliar raspiness.
We've exchanged a few words since waking up, but the events of yesterday linger heavily between us. Chatting about how he'd like his eggs and commenting that the weather's eased up a bit hasn't restored us to the easy, fun, natural way we were before he dropped a red-leather-bound bombshell in my lap.
I finish chewing, set my knife and fork down, and interlace my fingers. "What exactly are you apologizing for?"
"Well." He takes a massive bite of bacon and shoves some scrambled eggs into his mouth, buying himself some time.
I've been watching him from the kitchen since he got up. He's been on edge, guarded, stalking around the room like he doesn't know where he should go or what he should do.
I know for a fact he slept, because I barely did. After Kyler drifted off, I lay awake, listening to his rhythmic breathing, ghosting my lips over his hair, playing back everything he had said.
You're an incredibly good-looking man.I'm attracted to you. I have been from the moment we met.
I've never been entirely comfortable when it comes to my appearance. My size has meant I've always stood out. It's unavoidable that people notice it. Judge me. Reject me.
I've had to learn to accept it. But I've never, ever had anyone state that they're attracted to me the way Kyler did.
Even in the light of a new day, I find it a little hard to believe. He's half my age and half my size. What on earth could he possibly see in me?
Even though there's a lot to unpack in what he admitted, what really struck me, above all else, was his sheer honesty. He said exactly what was on his mind and in his heart. That kind of raw, unfiltered vulnerability takes real strength.
And what did I do?
When it was my turn to share my feelings, I shut down and stopped things from progressing.
Like I always have.
Sure, I can blame a grueling, time-sucking career for still being single at forty-three, but the truth is, it's me.
I don't open up. I don't take risks. I don't share my emotions.
And now I've developed feelings for Kyler, which gives me the perfect excuse to continue my lifelong pattern. He's my assistant. It'd be unprofessional. Unethical. Inappropriate.
And also…convenient.
Yet another chance to remain shut off and not let myself be vulnerable.
Maybe I'm sick of that. Maybe I want to take a risk and try living life another way.
Maybe.
Kyler has stopped eating and is staring at me, his eyebrows squished together as he mulls over a response to my question.
I'm trying to determine if he's sorry because he didn't mean what he said or if he meant it and is worried he's ruined our professional relationship.
If it's the latter, well…that could just be the opportunity I need to bite the bullet and take a chance…
Maybe.
"I'm sorry for saying it, I guess. I've managed to keep a lid on my feelings the entire time I've worked for you. I don't know what got into me last night. I didn't mean to show you those drawings. I was a little tipsy, and I totally spaced out by giving you my sketchbook. When we get back to LA, I promise I'll go back to just being your PA. Like how things were before… Assuming I still have a job, that is."
Something burns in the pit of my stomach. The idea that Kyler would shut himself down, not express how he feels, hide his true emotions, hits too close to home. Even the cautious way he's acting now—I hate it.
"Of course you still have a job," I reply straight away to allay his concerns about that. "We're in a life-and-death situation, remember?"
He smiles, but only a little. It's nowhere near what his smiles were like yesterday when we were playing cards. When I got a glimpse of the real Kyler. I wantthatKyler back. Not this toned-down, cautious version.
"Did you really mean what you said?"
