Kitchen.
Rose scrambled to pull ingredients from the fridge. But when her gaze caught her reflection in the frosted glass wall, she froze.
I’m wearing this? A silky nightgown—barely-there straps, a neckline that dipped way too low, the fabric doing nothing to hide her figure.
Mortified, she realized she must have passed out last night. Houston must’ve changed her clothes.
Which means... he saw everything. Her face burned. Never drinking again. Ever.
Distracted and flustered, Rose somehow managed to prepare two bowls of beef stew with noodles. Bracing herself, she carried them out to the table.
Houston had just come out of the bedroom. Noticing her flushed face, he looked concerned. "Rose, why are you so flushed? You’re not running a fever, are you?"
Flustered, Rose turned and hurried back toward the bedroom. "I... I need to change."
That’s when Houston realized why she was blushing. "Rose," he called after her, "you threw up last night. I had to put your clothes in the wash."
Rose spun around, panic in her eyes. "Then what am I supposed to wear to work today?"
Seeing her expression—as if it were the end of the world—Houston couldn’t resist teasing her. "Anything you want from the wardrobe."
Rose looked miserable. "You expect me to wear your clothes to work?"
Houston grinned. "I wouldn’t mind."
With no better option, Rose rushed into the bedroom.
When she opened the wardrobe, she froze. It was filled with rows of designer dresses in every color.
She ran her fingers over the tags—every single one in her size.
She bit her lip. These must have cost a fortune. How much did Houston spend on all this?
After some hesitation, she chose a black velvet dress with lace trim and layered it under a soft blue knit cardigan.
Once she’d changed, her blush finally faded. When she walked back out, Houston was already at the table, enjoying her beef stew with noodles.
She approached him. "Houston... thank you. For everything."
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