I swallow the lump that rises in my throat and set my mug down.
Knowing that Myaseesme does something to me I can’t explain.
Mya must feel it too because she suddenly looks down, fiddling with the rim of her cup.
“You should eat something. You’ve got a long day ahead.”
Instead of answering, I take a step closer. Then another.
Her breath catches, her back pressing lightly against the counter.
“Worth…”
“Hmm?”
“This is a bad idea,” she whispers, though her voice betrays her.
“So you always say.” My hand finds her jaw. “But we’ve had worse ones.”
Her lips part, and I lower my head, close enough to feel the warmth of her breath.
Footsteps thunder on the porch just before the door swings open and Brianna’s voice calls, “I forgot my phone!”
We jump apart like teenagers caught doing something we shouldn’t.
Mya spins, pretending to wipe the counter while I grab my coffee as if it’s suddenly the most interesting thing in the room.
Brianna darts in, grabs her phone, and eyes us suspiciously. “Why do you guys look so weird?”
Mya forces a laugh. “We don’t!”
“Uh huh,” Brianna says, grinning as she walks out again.
When the door shuts, Mya turns to me, cheeks pink. “See? Bad idea.”
“Maybe,” I say, unable to stop my smirk, “but it would’ve been a good one, right up until she walked in.”
Mya rolls her eyes and tosses a napkin at me, but I see the small smile she’s trying to hide.
40
MYA
Today is the day I’ll be pitchingProject Rebuild.
Months of work, late nights, and second-guessing all boil down to a thirty-minute presentation in front of Worth’s board.
The weight of it presses into my ribs until I can’t breathe.
Beside me, Worth stirs. “You’re awake,” he murmurs.
I hum something noncommittal, staring up at the ceiling.
He props himself up on an elbow, eyes narrowing when he sees my expression. “You’re nervous.”
“Understatement. I’mterrified,” I admit, forcing out a laugh that sounds nothing like me.
“Hey. You’ve got this. You’ve been living and breathing this project for months. No one knows it better than you.”