This was a look I’d wanted for so long, but never thought it would ever happen.

No matter what happened tonight, or where we’d return to in a few days, his look, how he melted me, the way his kisses shattered me…the bar had been set higher than I’d ever imagined it could get.

There was no coming back from this.

Sunny had ruined me.

I’d fallen asleep content and safe and adored.

And I awoke aroused and hungry and desired.

My back was against Sunny’s chest when he lifted my hair to kiss the nape of my neck, tugging the sheets lower and lower as his mouth skimmed across my shoulder and down my spine, to my hip and across my waist. I rolled beneath him and immediately face-planted into the mattress because his body weight had created a depression and accelerated my turning over toward him.

He laughed into my stomach. “Are you okay?”

I covered my face because of course that would happen. “I should probably shower.”

“Don’t you mean ‘we’?”

Sunny took my hand and pulled me up and out of bed, leading me into the bathroom. He trailed kisses across my neck and shoulder as we fumbled to get into the shower beneath warm, flowing water.

Skin on skin. Very slippery.

Suds. Lots of them.

Hands. All over each other.

Kisses. Everywhere.

Wrinkled as a prune but squeaky clean, I leaned against the kitchen counter, perusing menus, trying to figure out what I wanted. I was in short black shorts and a striped tank top, my damp hair flowing down my back to air dry.

Hmm. An açaí bowl sounded pretty good. Oh! Better yet, a pitaya bowl. The vibrant pink flesh of dragon fruit, as tart and sweet as açaí, turned into a smoothie with macnut milk, honey, and bananas, plopped into a bowl and covered in granola, banana slices, dried goji berries, and a drizzle of honey.

And cassava fritters because carbs were needed after last night, and this morning (forget the fact that I’d had way too much cake).

As per usual, and from heinous habit, I checked my phone. I wasn’t sure why, as nothing happened on Sundays. I finally cleaned out an inundated spam folder, only to realize there was a misplaced email.

My company’s name, attached to a few extra letters (including HR), glared back at me. Was this the PM results I’d been waiting for? Must’ve been bad news if they sent an email instead of calling.

Relinquishing any hope and accepting fate, I opened the email. My heart did a little flip as I read and reread the message to make sure I’d understood correctly. A smile crept across my lips. They’d offered me the position. With a significant pay increase compared to what I’d been told. Apparently, they’d held off on making the offer because of a budget increase. They hadn’t called because they knew I was on vacation but would be reaching out upon my return.

I laughed. Of course I’d get it, I’d always known! What had I been so worried about?

PM was a lot of responsibility, and I might miss actual UX work. That seemed to be the biggest complaint of PMs. Oftentimes they just wanted to be UXers.

With shaky hands, I reached out to the recruiter at Google with an email about updates, tossing in the fact that I had another offer to at least get a response from them before I made such a big decision. Sometimes, these nudges led to a quick pass, but sometimes they led to action.

I could only hold my breath now, although I honestly wasn’t expecting much from Google. Either way, my life was moving forward and out of moss’s lethargic reach.

The first person I wanted to tell was Sunny. My smile slipped. Because this meant he hadn’t gotten the promotion he needed. It seemed like a hollow victory when I’d been so set on rubbing it in his face.

What did this mean for us? Would he apply elsewhere and leave the company? Until then, if he could even leave, we wouldn’t be able to keep up our…what were we? Were we nothing? Truly a lie? A fling at best? He’d said what happened here stayed here. But if by some iota of a chance he wanted more, we couldn’t be more. I’d be his boss.

Crap.

I willed my racing heart to calm down. Which was worse? Knowing he had no real feelings for me, at least not enough to pursue a relationship? Or knowing he did, and we couldn’t do a thing about it unless one of us found work elsewhere?

I tamped down my nausea. I didn’t want to know which dead end I was facing.

Diya knocked at the front door and cracked it open like she expected a ghost. Of course, I’d been expecting her as we’d texted that it was safe for her to return.

“Hello?” she called out loudly.

“Hey, weirdo,” I replied, shoving aside all the raw badness churning in my head. I had to stave off anxiety.

She walked in and looked around. “Are you two decent?”

“Yes.” Heat surged across my face.

Diya closed the door and meandered toward the counter with two bags, Kimo right behind her with coffees.

“What’s all this?” I asked, leaning my elbows against the counter as Diya plated up fresh baked goods.

“Sunny is leaving this afternoon, isn’t he?” Kimo said.

“Yes,” I replied, saddened by the fact.

“We had to come by to say goodbye and have one last meal.”

“Aw. You guys. That’s so sweet of you. Most importantly, what did you bring me?” I joked, pushing aside how the truth—or a fake breakup to a fake relationship—would disappoint them.

“I went by your favorite café on the way in.”

“Kimo! You didn’t have to!”

“He really did it for the coffee and to see Sunny.” Diya eyed him. “Bromance in the air.”

Kimo shrugged. “I like making friends.”

Diya cocked her chin at the ravaged basket. “Get to the bottom of that?”

“Thanks for the chocolates and cake!” I grinned.

Her right brow shot up. “Did you see the bottom of the basket?”