Call it ridiculous.
And yes, in six months, I might feel differently.
But right now, walking through his house that’s becoming too familiar, I can’t imagine being able to walk away without missing this.
Us.
The us that doesn’t exist.
The us that can’t happen.
The us that’s a terrible figment of my imagination.
When I walk into the kitchen, though, I find Ethan leaning against the counter and stop in my tracks.
His sleeves are rolled up. His suit jacket is folded and tossed over the back of a chair at the island, and his face looks worn.
Tired.
Conflicted.
He looks the way the pit of my stomach feels.
I stop in the doorway, anxious thoughts crowding my head until all I can think about is when he’ll decide this is bonkers and send me into exile early.
After the big wedding spectacle, there’s really no good reason we have to spend much time together to keep up public appearances.
He glances up and sees me, offering a brief smile that doesn’t touch his eyes.
They’re so dark, a starless blue night without moonlight.
My heart leaps in my chest.
No point in trying to tame it, or reminding myself for the thousandth time that nothing between us is authentic.
The heart isn’t rational, especially when it wants Ethan Blackthorn.
Desperately.
But when his smile drops, the brief rush of relief and happiness at seeing him turns to dread.
“Hey, Pages,” he says.
“You’re home early. Everything okay?” I force a smile, walking around the enormous kitchen island to kiss him on the cheek.
He reaches out and presses a hand to the small of my back, holding me against him. His lips find the top of my head, and I melt helplessly when I feel him inhaling me.
Who would have thought this surly, scowly beast was capable of being sogentlewhen he smells me like a rose?
“Everything’s fine,” he says, but there’s still this tension in his body that doesn’t mirror his words. “Work’s done early.”
Just work? Is that all that’sfine?
Oh no. I stiffen and pull back against my better instinct.
“…how about off the clock? Is everything okay?”
“Not what I meant.” His knuckle drags across my cheek, so lightly I almost miss it. “Things are good with us, don’t worry.”
