Chapter 18 Alice
ALICE
The San Diego night wraps around us like a warm blanket as we leave the restaurant.
My heels click against the sidewalk, and I catch Oscar glancing at me whenever he thinks I'm not looking.
The factory visit today went better than I expected — we were actually on the same page for once, both excited about the possibilities the space offers for Rooted Pantry's expansion.
"Not too much farther to the hotel," Oscar says, his voice gentle in the evening air. The streetlights cast soft shadows across his face, highlighting the strong line of his jaw. He looks good tonight — too good, if I'm being honest with myself.
"I'm not complaining about the walk," I reply. "After that meal, I need it."
"You know," he says, slowing his pace, "I don't think I've stepped away from work like this in… I can't even remember how long."
I raise an eyebrow. "Oh, you don’t take vacations?” I ask dryly. “Why am I not surprised?”
"Not real ones." He shoves his hands in his pockets, looking suddenly vulnerable. "When you're building an empire, it's hard to justify downtime."
"And yet here you are in San Diego, seemingly in no rush to fly back. I mean, we could have gone home today."
“Did you want to?”
I hesitate, not sure I want to admit the truth. However, it naturally slips from my tongue. “No. I like this. It’s a break from everything.”
“Maybe we both needed this.”
“Maybe,” I say, not brave enough to look at him.
We walk in silence for half a block before I find myself saying, "It's not worth it, you know."
"What isn't?"
"Sacrificing everything for success." I pause, surprised by my own candor.
"I almost did that with Rooted Pantry. For the first three years, I barely slept.
Barely ate. Definitely didn't date." I laugh lightly.
"My apartment was just a place to shower and change clothes between work shifts. I didn’t even have a plant at home.
Moved them all to my office where I would see them and remember to water them. "
Oscar nods thoughtfully. "I get that. But look at what you built."
"Yeah, but at what cost?" I look up at the night sky, searching for stars beyond the city lights. "Sometimes I wonder if I missed out on too much along the way."
We stop at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. Oscar turns to face me fully, and there's an intensity in his eyes that makes my heart skip.
"I've been wondering the same thing lately," he admits.
The light changes, but neither of us moves immediately. There's a shift happening between us — I can feel it in the air.
"When did someone as successful as you start questioning his life choices?" I ask, trying to keep my tone light as we resume walking.
"Probably around the time I walked into Rooted Pantry and found you there."
My breath catches, and I focus on putting one foot in front of the other. "Are we really going to talk about this?"
"Maybe it's time we did."
We've reached a small park that lies between us and our hotel. By unspoken agreement, we veer onto one of its paths, prolonging our walk. Palm trees sway overhead, and the distant sound of waves breaking against the shore creates a soothing backdrop.
"You know," he says. "I've made a lot of difficult decisions in business. Acquisitions, layoffs, pivots… but nothing was as hard as walking away from Organic Now."
My throat tightens. This is the conversation we've been dancing around since he popped back up, and even though I’ve wanted to dive deeper I’m now discovering I’m terrified to.
It has to be done, though. If I walk away from this opportunity, I’ll always regret it. "You left because you had a big job opportunity. Yeah it hurt, but–”
“No. That wasn’t it. Not the real reason.” He stops walking and turns to me. "I told myself it was what was best for our business."
"And it wasn't?"
"No." He shakes his head slowly. "That was the lie I told myself so I could sleep at night."
I cross my arms, feeling suddenly defensive. "So what was the truth?"
Oscar takes a deep breath, and I can see him steeling himself. "The truth is that I couldn't bear to work alongside you while harboring unrequited love."
The words hit me like a physical blow. I stare at him, trying to process what he's just said. "What are you talking about?"
"When I told you how I felt and you turned me down—" his voice catches slightly.
"I thought I could handle it. I thought I could compartmentalize my feelings and focus on our company.
But every day was torture, Alice. Being so close to you, working side by side, dreaming together about our future — a future I wanted to share with you in every way… "
I feel like the ground beneath my feet has suddenly shifted. "Oscar…”
"I convinced myself that taking that job offer was about securing my future.
That the connections and financial stability would ultimately benefit me more than staying with Organic Now.
But that was bullshit." He runs a hand through his hair in frustration.
"I ran away because I was heartbroken and couldn't face you every day knowing you didn't feel the same way. "
We've reached a small bench beneath a streetlight, and I sink onto it, my legs suddenly unsteady. Oscar remains standing, as if he's afraid to get too close.
"All these years," I whisper. "I thought you left because you didn't believe in what we were building. That you saw a better opportunity and took it without looking back."
"I never stopped believing in us — in what we could build together." His voice is low, raw with emotion. "But I couldn't separate the business from my feelings for you. I knew that if I stayed every day would just become harder. I knew I would never get over you, Alice.”
I'm reeling from his confession, twelve years of hurt and resentment suddenly cast in an entirely different light. All this time, I'd built a narrative in my head about Oscar's ambition trumping our friendship and partnership, when the reality was something else entirely.
"You could have told me the truth," I finally say.
"Would it have made a difference?" He sits beside me now, careful to leave space between us. "You made it clear that you didn't see me that way."
I stare at my hands in my lap, feeling a strange mixture of anger and regret. "I understand, but… there’s more to my side of the story as well.”
Now it's his turn to look confused. "What?"
I take a deep breath. If he can be brave enough to tell his truth after all these years, I can do the same.
"I had feelings for you too, Oscar. Strong ones.
" The admission feels both terrifying and freeing.
"But when you told me how you felt, we were at such a critical point with Organic Now.
We'd just secured our first round of real funding.
We were about to launch. Everything we'd worked for was coming together. "
I turn to face him more fully, needing him to understand.
"I was terrified that if we tried to be together and it didn't work out, we'd lose everything.
The company, our friendship, all of it. So I convinced myself that turning you down was the responsible choice. That I was protecting what we'd built."
Oscar looks stunned. "You felt the same way?"
"Yes," I whisper. "And then you left anyway, and I lost everything I was trying to protect."
The irony of it hangs in the air between us — how we both made choices thinking we were doing what was best, only to create the very outcome we were trying to avoid.
"For what it's worth," he says after a long moment. "I built an empire trying to prove that leaving was the right decision. That I could be successful without you, without Organic Now. But none of it filled the void."
I find myself leaning toward him slightly. "And all these years, I've been angry with you for choosing money over our dreams, when that wasn't it at all."
"No, it wasn't." His eyes meet mine, and the intensity of his gaze makes my breath catch. "And now here we are, twelve years later, and I'm still not over you, Alice."
The admission hangs in the space between us. I feel something crack open inside me — all the walls I've built to protect myself from him, from these feelings, beginning to crumble.
"Is that why you bought Rooted Pantry? Because I was there?"
He shakes his head. "I really didn't know you were there until I walked into that first meeting. That wasn’t a lie. But seeing you again… it felt like fate giving us another chance."
I laugh softly, but there's no humor in it. "Fate has a twisted sense of humor."
"Maybe," he agrees. "Or maybe it knew we needed time to grow into the people who could make this work."
My heart is pounding so hard I'm sure he must hear it. "Make what work?"
Instead of answering, Oscar reaches out slowly, giving me time to pull away if I want to. When I don't, his hand cups my cheek, his touch achingly gentle. "We wasted twelve years, Alice. I don't want to waste another second."
Time seems to slow as he leans in, his intention clear. This is the moment to stop this, to remember all the reasons why getting involved with Oscar again is a terrible idea. Instead, I find myself closing the distance between us.
The moment his lips touch mine, something electric passes between us.
It's soft at first, tentative, as if we're both afraid this might shatter the fragile understanding we've just reached.
But then his hand slides into my hair, and I grip the front of his shirt, and the kiss deepens into something hungry and desperate, as if we're trying to make up for over a decade of lost time in a single moment.
When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard. Oscar rests his forehead against mine, his eyes closed as if he's trying to commit this moment to memory.
"I should have told you the truth years ago," he whispers.
"We both should have been braver." I touch his face, still not quite believing this is happening. "I never stopped having feelings for you, Oscar. I tried to bury them under anger and resentment, but seeing you again brought everything rushing back."
He kisses me again, softer this time but no less intense. When he pulls back, there's wonder in his eyes. "So where do we go from here?"
I take his hand, lacing our fingers together. The answer suddenly seems simple. "We could start with the hotel.”