Page 76 of Triplet Babies for my Ex's Best Friend

I can’t ask that.

So instead I say, “It can’t happen again.”

His jaw tightens.

“Why?” he asks.

I stare at him. “Seriously?”

“Yes.”

I let out a breath that sounds almost like a laugh. “Ethan.”

“Addy.”

I hate that he uses my name like that.

Like it’s meaningful.

“Because this is my job,” I shoot back. “Because you’re my boss. Because Oliver is involved now. Because there’s an age gap large enough to make some people write think pieces.”

A flicker of irritation moves across his face at that. “You’re concerned about my age.”

I immediately regret saying it like that.

“No, I’m… that’s not?—”

“It was a statement.”

“It was context.”

He leans back slightly on the stool, still watching me. “And what context does it provide?”

This man is impossible.

I drag a hand through my hair. “That you know exactly what you’re doing, and I'm trying very hard to behave like a person with self-preservation instincts.”

His eyes drop briefly to my mouth, then lift, and just like that, every molecule of air in the room changes.

The memory of the plane comes back so hard it almost makes me dizzy, the way he looked at me then, the challenge in it, the heat, the terrifying certainty.

Except this isn’t a plane, and I’m not tipsy and furious and trying to set my own life on fire just because it’s already burning.

This is worse. Because this is sober, intentional.

He speaks very carefully when he says, “Do you think I’m not trying?”

My heart kicks.

There’s no good answer to that. None.

I should stand up, should leave. Yet, I stay exactly where I am, gripping the edge of the island like it’s helping.

“Ethan…”

His gaze flicks down again to my mouth, and this time he doesn’t even try to hide it.

I stop breathing.