Page 34 of Hitched to my Boss

I don't answer because I can't. The truth is, I've never felt about anyone the way I feel about Jason. The depth of connection, the way he saw past my professional armor to the woman underneath, the feeling that I'd found someone who understood parts of me I'd never shown anyone else.

But understanding someone isn't enough if you can't build a sustainable life together.

"It doesn't matter how I feel about him if the relationship requires me to sacrifice everything I've worked for."

"Does it, though? Or are you just scared of figuring out how to have both?"

Before I can answer, my phone rings. Rebecca Martinez's name appears on the screen, and my stomach clenches with familiar anxiety.

"Rebecca, how are things going?"

"Better, thanks to the new consultant I hired." Her voice is polite but distant. "Natalia, I'm calling because I heard you were back in Atlanta. I wanted to let you know that Morrison Industries has decided to retain Hartfield Communications for all future crisis management needs."

My stomach drops. Hartfield Communications is one of my biggest competitors, and Rebecca was supposed to be a long-term client who would provide steady income and referrals.

"I understand," I manage. "Rebecca, I want you to know how sorry I am about the way I handled the SEC situation. My absence was inexcusable."

"I'm sure you had your reasons. But Natalia, I need consultants who can be available when I need them, not whenever it's convenient for their personal lives." The disappointment in her voice cuts deep. "I thought you understood that."

After she hangs up, I sit staring at my phone in silence. Maya watches me with concern.

"Bad news?"

"Rebecca just fired me. Permanently." I set my phone aside, trying to process the implications. "She's moving all her business to Hartfield."

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine. I'll rebuild." But even as I say it, I'm not sure I believe it. Rebecca wasn't just a client; she was a connection to a network of pharmaceutical executives who trusted her judgment. Losing her means losing access to an entire sector of potential business.

I spend the next four hours trying to focus on work, but concentration feels impossible. Every email reminds me of something Jason would find interesting. Every crisis management strategy makes me think about how he'd approach a wildlife conflict with the same methodical patience. The silence in my apartment feels oppressive after weeks of his quiet presence filling the spaces around me.

I'm reaching for my charger in my travel bag when my fingers close around something that wasn't there when I packed. A folded piece of paper with my name written in Jason's careful handwriting.

My heart stops as I unfold it.

Natalia,

If you're reading this, you made it back to Atlanta safely, and I'm probably somewhere over Colorado trying not to panic about flying to a city.

You were right about everything. I have been asking you to sacrifice everything while I risk nothing. I've been expecting you to fit into my life instead of building something new together. That's not fair, and it's not love.

Real love means meeting each other halfway, even when halfway is terrifying.

So I'm coming to you. I've booked a flight that lands at 6 PM today. I don't know anything about Atlanta or cities or how to live anywhere that isn't my mountain, but I'm willing to learn. I'm willing to stay for three months while we figure out how to make this work for both of us. Maybe we alternate between your world and mine. Maybe we find somewhere completely new. Maybe we just take it one day at a time until we figure out what home looks like when it's built by two people instead of one.

I don't know if you'll want me there. I don't know if I've already lost you by waiting too long to prove I can be the man you need me to be. But I have to try.

I love you enough to leave my mountain. I love you enough to be scared and do it anyway.

I love you.

Jason

P.S. If you've changed your mind about us, I'll understand. But please let me know before I spend three months wandering around Atlanta like a lost mountain man.

The note tremblesin my hands as I read it twice, then three times. Jason was coming here. Today. He was stepping so far outside his comfort zone that he'd probably be physically sick with anxiety, and he was doing it because I'd challenged him to prove he could meet me halfway.

I check my phone frantically. It's 7:30 PM. His flight would have landed over an hour ago.

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