Chapter 19 Home Sweet Heartache #2
“For which part?” I grin up at him, the water from the shower dampening my eyelashes.
“Funny girl.”
“I know I am.” I press a kiss to the damp curve of his shoulder. “But what are you apologizing for?”
“When I thought my shit would blow up your life, I panicked.” His warm hand clasps the back of my elbow. “You said I’m the one running, and you were right. I did try to run by pushing you away. But that hasn’t gotten me anywhere.”
I want to argue back.
It got him here in the first place. Running away brought him to Maine, and to me.
And it was also going to take him away from me again.
One deep look into his eyes tells me that’s not what he’s thinking right now though.
“When my last relationship burned up, it wasn’t the only problem,” he says. “I had to walk away from her and my company.”
Finally, the mysterious OptiSynth.
“And you don’t think you made the right call?” I ask.
He turns off the water.
The sudden morning cold against my too-hot skin almost feels overwhelming. Together, we step out of the shower and wrap ourselves in fluffy towels.
Instead of drying, though, we both walk to the bed and sit on the edge of it.
“It’s complicated,” he tells me, folding his hands in his lap. “You deserve to know, but it’s not a story that reflects well on me.”
I take his hand and hold it in mine.
“It’s okay. Just start at the beginning. What did you do there?”
“It’s what I didn’t do. The worst part is, I joined it on a whim. With my hockey career buried and no love for politics, I figured I’d take my money and try a few start-ups. I always had an interest in technology. When a friend mentioned OptiSynth, I—”
“But what is it? Some AI thing?” I interrupt.
I’ve looked it up, of course, but I want to hear it in his words.
“Oh. Right.” He sighs. “They originally promised to revolutionize interior design. They’d be a tool for designers to upload original concepts and then build tons of variations with AI. Not just images or crappy five-second videos, but full-blown 3D modeling.”
So far, so good.
That’s what I gathered, too, and I have to admit it’s a nifty concept.
Everyone and their dog talks about AI these days if they aren’t actually using it. It makes sense to jump on what’s popular, a guaranteed road to riches.
Only, from Kane’s face, that’s not what happened.
“But you didn’t like it?” I guess.
“For a couple years, it was good. Really good while it was in the development phase.” He lifts his gaze to mine. “I still had a lot of celebrity cred back then, and I used it to bring in more investors. We were getting off the ground fast, beating our competition off superior capital.”
“Nice,” I say, releasing his hand as he pulls it free.
With his towel still wrapped around his waist, he stands and paces the room.
There’s something oddly compelling about the way he moves now, tattoo bristling on his arm, his muscles tight and defined.
“My intention was never to replace designers or put them out of work,” he says shortly. “You have to know that.”
“I believe you.”
“People have been talking shit about me because I was the one to bring so many people onboard. My presence got the big money interested, the kind that could push us forward. Not just money, the art world came too. Hell, I did the outreach, connecting with them in a way the business and tech types couldn’t.
We made this incredible software because I made it possible. And that’s where I fucked up.”
“Kane,” I whisper, getting up and crossing the room until I’m in front of him, still in my towel, hair wet down my back. I don’t look as majestic as him, but he stares at me like I’m the sunrise. “It’s okay. I promise.”
“I should’ve seen it coming from ten miles away,” he whispers, his fingers tracing my jaw. “You can tell me it’s not my fault, but it is. Because I should’ve known this was exactly the kind of tech people use for pure fuckery.”
I lean into his touch. “What do you mean?”
“It was just a few cutthroats who wanted to save on costs at first. They showed up just as the project really took off, and the new executive team decided to plot a new direction. They scrapped the plan to roll out tools—they decided it was good enough to pitch it as a ‘designer replacement’ to major firms.”
“Oh, yikes.” I flinch.
“I was fucking livid. Felt double-crossed as they shrugged and rewrote our vision and white papers. But there was nothing I could do. Then word leaked out, and all the artists I’d worked with were furious, blaming me for the knife in the back.
Even though I was just as much in the dark about it as them. ”
“Holy shit. Kane—”
“They had a right to be mad.” He shudders, like he needs to get this out and doesn’t want my sympathy. “But I couldn’t live with empowering a company that lied to me so they could fuck over people’s livelihoods. I was done. I left, leaving a big hole of rumors behind.”
“Kane.” I catch his face and bring it down to mine, kissing him tenderly. “It’s not your fault.”
“I wish I could believe that.”
“You had good intentions. You brought people together for something they might not have ever noticed. And you did it all to help artists, not ruin them.”
“Whatever I intended, it blew up in my face. You know the controversies with AI? Especially with creators?” he asks tonelessly.
“I know enough.”
Like how tons of hardworking artists are up in arms about it.
Too often, AI isn’t just a supplement or a helper—it’s a devious hijacker. Creative works get scraped and fed into the engines to train the system to think better, until eventually it beats human talent at its own game.
Even as a budding shoe designer who doesn’t need to worry about money, it makes me worry.
Will there ever be a place for my designers if they’re good enough? Or will they be mowed down by machines that can vomit a hundred new concepts per hour?
No, you can’t stop progress, but you also can’t change the facts.
And when inventions start chipping away at the human soul because they’re faster and cheaper and easier, well…
“You know you have to stop blaming yourself, right?” I hold his face between my hands.
“I know that’s just talk. But you can either choose to believe that, or you can choose not to, but you’re carrying a burden that isn’t yours.
If you’re going to blame someone, blame the guys who screwed you.
Blame the people who took what you tried to do and twisted it. ”
“Margot—” His voice is rough. Angry.
“No. A man with the best intentions, who refused to stick around to support a company he doesn’t believe in, doesn’t get to fall on his sword for their BS.”
I kiss him again, and this time he kisses me back. Hard.
“Don’t know what the fuck I did to deserve you. But I’m going to keep on doing it.”
“Then try to forgive yourself, okay?” I stare at him fiercely. “And you never know… maybe there’ll be a time when the truth comes out. People will forgive you if they hear your side of the story. But first, you have to forgive yourself.”
His hand slides down my back, sealing me against him.
We’re still damp and cool from the shower, but none of that matters with the feel of his skin against mine.
“Does that mean you’ll stay?” he asks between hungry kisses.
“I can’t believe you took this long to tell me.”
“Margot, I ruined people’s lives.” He leans back to caress my cheek.
“No, Kane. Greedy assholes ruined lives. Not you. And maybe the OptiSynth hacks made you feel like it’s your fault, but they need to take a good, hard look in the mirror, and stop smearing the name of the one man who had integrity.” I stop, breathing heavily.
His smile warms me like the sun.
“I love it when you get worked up. My little defender.”
“If I don’t, who else will?” I warn. “Seriously, anyone who tries to make you responsible for this—”
“Go easy. I won’t put you in a place where you need to fight on my behalf,” he says, kissing me again.
But before he can push me back on the bed and undo the shower, there’s a soft thud from downstairs.
“They’re up,” Kane whispers against my mouth.
“Then the only thing we need to worry about now is breakfast.” Laughing, I rest my thumbs on his cheekbones, stroking his face until he relaxes.