15. Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Fifteen
K endra
I stood under the warm spray of my shower, the water washing away the tension of the day. But my mind lingered on Antonio—his wounded elbow, and our kiss. The memory of his lips on mine sent a shiver down my spine.
Guilt gnawed at me like a persistent itch I couldn’t scratch. I had approached him with an ulterior motive. But the more we talked, the more I questioned my decision.
I knew I was genuinely drawn to him, yet I also knew the only reason I went for that kiss was to gain his trust—trust I’d be exploiting for his family’s story.
Asheville wasn’t a big town. Quitting my job because I couldn’t deliver a story would tarnish my reputation. Word would spread quickly, and securing another position in my field would become daunting. I needed to maintain my professionalism, no matter how much I was drawn to Antonio.
I stepped out of the shower, wrapping myself in a plush towel.
What was I doing? Antonio deserved better than a deceitful journalist. His kindness and vulnerability made me feel like I was betraying him.
But my job was too important. Uncovering the truth about the Michaelson family empire could make my career.
I dried my hair, focusing on the soft hum of the dryer in an attempt to escape my thoughts. Yet my mind remained turbulent. Antonio’s smile flashed in my mind, followed by the memory of our kiss. Butterflies danced in my stomach.
No, I couldn’t let emotions cloud my judgment. My job came first. I had to keep my priorities straight.
As I tucked my hair into a bonnet, my gaze drifted to the photo of Elon on my dresser. My late husband’s warm smile seemed to be judging me tonight.
I turned the picture to face a different direction and climbed into bed.
I closed my eyes and tried to summon sleep for what felt like hours, but it wouldn’t come. I couldn’t shake off the memory of Antonio’s lips on mine. The way he’d deepened the kiss, his arms wrapping around me, made my heart flutter. As I lay in bed, my mind replayed the events of the evening.
Antonio’s vulnerability, his trust in me, and the way he’d opened up about his struggles—it all tugged at my heartstrings. His words, laced with frustration and concern, revealed a depth to him I hadn’t expected.
I picked up my phone to text him.
“Hey… about that kiss, could we forget it? Pretend it never—” I typed, only to tap the backspace until every letter disappeared.
How could I ask him to forget something I initiated?
“Ughhh!!!”
I tossed my phone onto the bed beside me, and in a heartbeat, it buzzed, breaking the silence.
Antonio’s name flashed on the screen, and my heart skipped a beat. Had I accidentally sent something instead of deleting it?
My hands fumbled as I grabbed my phone.
“Hey,” his text read. “Still awake?”
My fingers hovered over the keyboard.
“Yeah,” I replied, trying to sound casual. “Just winding down.”
“Can’t sleep?” he asked.
“No,” I admitted. And before I could stop myself, I added, “…thinking about tonight,” and hit send.
There was a pause before his next message.
“I’ve been thinking about it too…”
“About?” I typed, my curiosity getting the better of me.
“Us,” he replied, his simplicity sending a flutter through my chest.
I hesitated, unsure how to respond.
“What about us?” I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
“I’d like to explore this,” Antonio wrote. “Explore us… see where this train takes us.”
My mind raced. Was he really asking me out?
“I don’t know,” I typed, stalling… “I think we should forget about the kiss.”
“Can we talk about it in person?” Antonio asked, ignoring my request.
I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. “Tomorrow?” I suggested.
“How about dinner?” Antonio proposed. Before I could respond, another text came through. “I’ll pick you up at 7.”
I typed a quick response.
“Looking forward to it.”
“Okay, goodnight, Kendra. Sleep tight.”
Seconds after I read his last message, the screen dimmed, but Antonio’s words lingered.
***
The next evening, Antonio rang my doorbell promptly at 7. I opened the door to see him looking dashing in his tailored suit. His smile faltered for a moment as he took in my hesitant expression.
“Hey,” he greeted, handing me a bouquet of sunflowers.
“Thanks,” I replied, inhaling their sweet scent. “They’re beautiful.”
He took in my look, his gaze softening. “Well, not half as beautiful as you,” he breathed.
As we drove to the restaurant, small talk filled the silence, but my mind was elsewhere—caught between the pros and cons of getting involved with Antonio.
Over dinner, Antonio shared stories about his childhood, his passion for the winery, and his dreams. His eyes sparkled, and his laughter was infectious.
I found myself relaxing, enjoying his company.
As the main course arrived, Antonio’s expression turned serious.
“Kendra,” he said, his voice low. “About last night…”
My heart did the flutter thing again. All along, we’d been skirting around the subject, talking about everything except the actual reason why we were out. I’d been careful not to mention my job.
“About last night…” I repeated.
“I don’t want to play around with you. I know what I want, and what I want is to be with you,” Antonio said, his eyes locking onto mine. “Exclusively.”
My mind went blank. I hadn’t expected him to be so direct.
“I… I don’t know,” I stammered.
Antonio’s expression remained calm, but a hint of disappointment flickered in his eyes.
“Can I ask why?” he inquired gently.
I took a deep breath, grasping for an excuse.
“It’s just… I… I don’t think I’m ready to let go of the past,” I said, avoiding eye contact. “My late husband… it’s still hard for me.”
Antonio’s face softened.
“I understand,” he said. “I’m not asking you to forget him. I just want a chance to show you I care.”
My heart was wrenched. I didn’t want his empathy. It only made me feel all the more terrible.
“I’ll think about it,” I said finally.
Antonio nodded, a gentle smile forming.
“That’s good enough for me.”
As we finished dinner and Antonio drove us home, my mind whirled with conflicting emotions. His understanding and kindness touched a chord within me.
As we stood outside my door, Antonio’s eyes searched mine.
“Thank you for tonight,” he said softly. “I’ll give you space to think.”
I nodded, feeling guilty for leading him on.
“Antonio,” I began, unsure how to continue.
“Yes?” he prompted.
“What if you found out that… I’ve been keeping something from you?” I asked vaguely.
Antonio’s expression turned quizzical. “Something like what?”
“Uh… anything… like something about my personal life, maybe.”
“Hmm… and, why do you ask?”
“Nothing. Just asking.”
There was skepticism in his eyes, but he answered anyway. “If you kept something from me, then I believe it would be because you couldn’t share it just yet. So, I’ll wait until you feel safe enough to share.”
My heart skipped a beat. His words sent a flutter through my chest.
As he leaned in to kiss me goodnight, I felt my resolve weakening.
“Goodnight,” he whispered, his lips brushing against mine.
I unlocked my door and entered my apartment, my thoughts in disarray.
Why was I hesitating? Was it fear of getting hurt or fear of losing my job?
Or was it something deeper?
***
Days passed, and Antonio respected my need for space. We exchanged occasional texts, but I could sense his restraint.
I was torn. Part of me yearned for Antonio's warmth and kindness, while another part screamed caution.
One evening, as I pondered my next move, my phone buzzed.
"Hey," Antonio texted. "How's your week going?"
"Busy," I replied. "Still thinking."
"I understand," he responded. "No rush. But can I see you soon? Maybe coffee?"
I shook my head. I wasn’t ready for another intimate encounter. I was already so close to stopping him in the stairway and confessing everything to him.
"How about next week?" I suggested buying time.
"Sounds good," Antonio agreed. "I'll plan something."
As I settled into bed that night, guilt gnawed at me. But what choice did I have? My job—everything—hung in the balance. Everyone at work was already waiting for the groundbreaking story, and I had yet to write anything.
***
The next morning, my unit head summoned me to his office. I was surprised he’d remained quiet for this long. I took a deep breath before entering.
"Kendra, we need to discuss your progress," he said, his expression stern.
I didn’t bother to sit. I just clasped my hands in front of me, trying to look confident.
"What's the status of the Michaelson story?" he asked.
"I'm... still gathering information, sir."
Thompson’s eyes narrowed. "Kendra, we can't wait forever. We need something concrete soon."
“I'm working on it, sir. I can’t rush it.”
He nodded, relaxing into his seat. “I agree with you. But make sure no one else gets that news out there before we do. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. You may leave.”
As I turned to leave, I searched for Antonio's contact and sent him a quick text:
"I’m done thinking. I’ll be your girlfriend."