This time, his rejection is like getting punched in the throat. I feel the lump form like a bruise and lodge itself in my trachea. I can’t speak. Can’t breathe.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice cutting through me like a cold wind.

“No,” I manage to croak. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He shakes his head, roughly rubbing his eyes with the heal of his hand.

“I do, though,” I say, my voice wobbling. “You told me not to fall in love with you. I did it anyway. I guess I’m not very good at following directions.”

Tears now falling freely from my eyes roll down both cheeks, and I quickly wipe them away. But I’m not ashamed. It feels so good to just say it out loud. I hadn’t imagined that I would ever get this far. I thought he would retreat before I got the chance to bare my soul like this. But I’m not hiding my truth any longer.

“I don’t have the capacity for love,” he says softly, his eyes downcast at the table in front of us.

“That’s stupid.”

He looks up at me in shock.

“I mean, for a CEO, you’re really dumb. You are capable of love. I’ve seen it in the way you take care of your daughters. And in the way that you look to Fran for help and advice when you need it most. I’ve seen it in the way that you work with Oliver. You trust him, more than anyone. I’ve seen it when you talk about your brother that you lost. I’ve seen it when you first gave me that promotion—”

Dominic opens his mouth to object.

“—and don’t pretend that was strictly professional. You care about me and my future. I saw it when I was with Emilia and Lacey, braiding their hair. I know you felt it.”

“Presley . . .”

Love is messy and imperfect. It isn’t that you aren’t

stunned silent. I can’t quite make out the meaning behind the look in his eyes. I’ve way overstepped what is appropriate

you can’t be with me in the way that we both need you to

knowing they’re the right ones. There’s no way I can work alongside him now—this man who took

in the lounge are shooting curious glances our way. I’ve made a scene. This isn’t how I wanted to say it. I wanted to be

I won’t look at him. I must seem like an immature lovesick idiot

look up, he’s placed his final card directly in front of me. I pick it up with shaking fingers. The

voice is soft as he says, “I might be

to meet his eyes, I feel the air

takes a deep breath. “I might be insensitive. I might not know when you’re hurting, or when you need

into a warm bath, easing the knot

across the table and kisses me tenderly on

you,” he murmurs. “I need you,

does that mean? I can’t keep doing

know you can’t. And the

“What are you saying?”

his stormy eyes on mine. “I’ve felt for so long that I was unlovable. That I had too much baggage, and that no one

little bit true, Dom.” I can’t help but think of his ex that discarded him and their

a deep breath, releasing

after what I want.” I shrug, trying

see that.” He smiles. “I want you too, Presley. I shouldn’t.

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