Updated Nov 23, 2025 • ~8 min read
Charlie was waiting in my apartment lobby.
I froze when I saw him through the glass doors, sitting on the leather couch, still in his work clothes despite the late hour.
He looked up as I entered. Saw the dress, the flushed cheeks, the swollen lips I couldn’t quite hide.
His expression went carefully blank. “Where were you?”
“The gala. I told you about it.”
“You told me you were going. You didn’t tell me you were going with him.”
I swallowed hard. “How did you know?”
“Hayley posted photos on Instagram. Tagged you.” He stood, pulling out his phone. “Want to see?”
He showed me. Photo after photo. Me and Jeremy arriving together. Laughing during client introductions. Dancing far too close.
And the kiss.
Someone had captured it. Us, wrapped around each other, lost in the moment.
The caption: Goals or messy? Morrison Creative’s senior designer with her consultant… who’s also apparently her husband?! 👀 #complicated
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“Charlie—”
“Don’t.” His voice was hollow. “Just don’t.”
“It was a mistake. The kiss. It didn’t mean—”
“Didn’t mean what? Didn’t mean you’re still in love with him? Didn’t mean our engagement is a joke?” He laughed bitterly. “You kissed him, Rose. In public. At your company event. Where everyone we know could see.”
“I’m sorry—”
“Are you? Because you don’t look sorry. You look guilty. There’s a difference.”
He was right. I felt caught, not remorseful.
“This is over,” Charlie said quietly.
My stomach dropped. “What?”
“Us. The engagement. All of it.” He pulled off his own ring, set it on the lobby table between us. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“Charlie, please—”
“I’ve tried. God knows I’ve tried. But I can’t compete with whatever you two have. This pull between you—it’s bigger than anything we’ve built. And I’m not going to beg for scraps of your attention while you figure your shit out.”
“I love you—”
“Maybe you do. But you love him more.” He moved toward the door. “Or at least, you want him more. Which amounts to the same thing.”
“Don’t go. We can work through this—”
“No, we can’t.” He turned back, eyes bright with unshed tears. “I deserve someone who chooses me first. Who doesn’t kiss their ex-husband and then come home looking guilty. Who doesn’t make me feel like a consolation prize.”
The words hit hard because they were true.
“I never meant to hurt you,” I whispered.
“I know. But you did anyway.” He pulled something from his pocket—my engagement ring. Placed it next to his. “These belong together. We don’t. Not anymore.”
“Charlie—”
“Be happy, Rose. Whatever that looks like. I really do hope you find it.”
He left.
I stood in my empty lobby, staring at two engagement rings gleaming under fluorescent light, and felt my carefully constructed life crumble completely.
Upstairs, I stripped off the black dress, scrubbed off makeup, and found Julie had texted seventeen times.
We need to talk
Call me
CALL ME
Fine, I’m coming over
A knock at my door thirty seconds later.
Julie entered with wine and fury. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“I don’t know.”
“You kissed him! At a work event! Where everyone saw!”
“I know!”
“Charlie just posted on Facebook that the engagement’s off. Everyone thinks you’re a cheating—” She stopped. “Wait. Are you crying?”
I was. Huge, gulping sobs I couldn’t control.
Julie’s anger evaporated. She pulled me into a hug. “Oh, honey.”
“I messed up. I messed everything up.”
“Yeah, you did.” She guided me to the couch. “Talk to me. What happened?”
I told her everything. The dance. Jeremy’s intensity. The kiss that felt like inevitability.
“Do you love him?” Julie asked when I finished.
“I don’t know! Maybe? I thought I was over him, but then he showed up and everything I buried came back.”
“That’s not love. That’s unresolved feelings.”
“Is there a difference?”
“Yes!” Julie poured wine. “Love is choosing someone despite their flaws. Unresolved feelings are just… unfinished business.”
“So which is Jeremy?”
“Only you can answer that.” She squeezed my hand. “But Rose? You need to figure it out. Fast. Because you just blew up your engagement, your professional reputation, and possibly your job. All for a man who broke your heart once already.”
“He’s different now.”
“Is he? Or is he just better at hiding the workaholic?”
I didn’t have an answer.
Julie left around midnight. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the kiss.
My phone buzzed. Jeremy.
Are you okay?
How did he know about Charlie?
How do you know about Charlie?
He called me. Said if I hurt you again, he’d make sure I regretted it. Then he cried.
Oh God.
He cried?
He loves you, Rose. A lot. And I made him cry by kissing you. So I’m either the worst person alive or doing something right. Can’t tell which.
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
This is a mess
Yes. But maybe it’s the right kind of mess?
There’s no right kind of mess
Sure there is. The kind that leads somewhere better. Like renovation chaos before the beautiful house.
We’re not a house
We’re definitely not a house. But we could be a home. If you let us.
My heart twisted.
I need time
You have it. All of it. I’m not going anywhere.
I set the phone down, pulled the covers over my head, and tried not to think about Jeremy’s lips or Charlie’s tears or the fact that I’d just destroyed my entire life over one kiss.
Sunday, I ignored all calls and texts. Stayed in pajamas. Ate ice cream for every meal. Julie checked in twice, bringing food I didn’t eat.
Monday morning came too soon.
I arrived at Morrison Creative to find whispers following me. Pitying looks. Hayley avoiding eye contact.
Eric called me into his office.
“Close the door.”
I sat. Waited for termination.
“Photographs from the gala are circulating,” Eric said. “Of you and Jeremy Patterson.”
“I know. I’m sorry. It was unprofessional—”
“It was spectacular publicity.” He turned his monitor. The Morrison Creative Instagram had exploded. Comments, shares, new followers.
All because of our kiss.
“People love a romance,” Eric continued. “Star-crossed lovers, secret marriages, second chances. The story writes itself. Our engagement with younger demographics is up forty percent since Saturday.”
I stared. “You’re not firing me?”
“Firing you? Rose, you just became our best marketing asset.” He grinned. “Jeremy’s offered to extend his consultancy another month. I said yes. You two will keep working together. Keep the momentum going.”
“You want me to fake a romance for publicity?”
“I want you to do whatever you’re already doing. The chemistry is clearly real. Just let it happen where clients can see.”
This was insane.
“What if I refuse?”
“Then Henderson probably pulls their contract, because they specifically requested Jeremy stay on. And we lose our biggest client.” Eric’s expression turned serious. “I’m not asking you to sleep with him. Just work with him. Be professional. Let nature take its course.”
I left his office in a daze.
Jeremy was waiting at my desk, coffee in hand.
“Heard you’re stuck with me,” he said.
“This is your fault.”
“Probably.” He handed me the coffee. “But it worked out. You get to keep your job. I get to see you every day. Win-win.”
“Charlie broke up with me.”
His expression shifted. “I know. He called me.”
“And?”
“And I feel terrible for him. He’s a good man who got caught in our mess.” Jeremy moved closer. “But I’m not sorry he’s out of the picture. Because now there’s nothing between us except you deciding what you want.”
“Maybe I want neither of you.”
“That’s an option. But it’s not what you want.” He touched my hand. “You want this. Us. You’re just scared.”
“Of course I’m scared! Last time we tried this, it destroyed me!”
“Last time we were kids who didn’t know how to fight for each other. This time—” He squeezed my hand. “This time we know better.”
“Do we?”
“Let’s find out.” He pulled back. “Dinner. Tuesday. No work talk. Just us, talking about whether we have a future.”
“And if I say no to dinner?”
“Then I respect it. But Rose?” His eyes held mine. “You won’t say no. Because you want answers as much as I do.”
He left.
I sat at my desk, surrounded by whispers and speculation and the ruins of my engagement, and admitted the truth.
He was right.
I wouldn’t say no.
Because despite everything—the pain, the fear, the spectacular mess—I wanted to know.
Could we actually make it work this time?
Or would we just destroy each other again?
Only one way to find out.
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