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We’ll never see Ulara again.
Never see our friends.
Samuel.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to stop the tears believing Rose will never see her father again.
The real possibility I’ll never see the love of my life again.
Stop.
I have to focus on new beginnings.
Keeping my eyes closed, I hold my breath and take a giant leap and pray to the universe that, like Froddo, I don’t disappear.
* * *
Grabbing my coat and scarf, I head into the kitchen and say goodbye to my mother, then head down the stairs without waking Rose.
Inside our office, I fire up my computer and wait.
Ethan should arrive any minute.
Reaching for the glass of water, I knock over the container of pens and groan when they scatter across the floor.
What’s wrong with me?
The door closes with a thud, and I jump. On my hands and knees, I peer up at Ethan grinning at me. In a brief second, I’m admiring the blue printed shirt and navy tie with his beige pants. His hair is styled, and those big brown eyes find me.
He raises his hands, and he’s still wearing that damn smirk. “I’m not saying anything.”
“Good.” I gather the pens one by one.
He chuckles loudly. “Why?”
“Why what?” I stand and adjust my pencil skirt and white shirt that has come a little untucked.
“Were you on all fours? I’m not complaining. You looked bloody hot down there.” His brown hues bore into me, telling me exactly what he’s thinking.
“I was picking up the pens I knocked off the desk,” I blurt out.
“What has spooked you?” His expression changes, and his gaze lowers to my hand. When his eyes meet mine, recognition settles in. We stand in silence, considering each other, and I’m aware of my heart thumping against my chest.
So, this is it.
My new beginning.
Not knowing what to say next, I say, “Hi.”
In two quick seconds, he’s beside me, lifting my hand and bringing it to his lips. “Hi, you.”
I smile. “Little steps.” It’s all I can manage for now.
He nods, his eyes not wavering from mine. Keeping hold of my hand, he says, “To friendship.”
“Well, we better get back to work before Dad walks in.” I pull out my chair and scroll through my emails, doing my best to concentrate on the screen in front of me.
The moment Ethan logs onto his computer, the door swings open, and Dad closes it behind him with a little extra force. “Damn wind,” he grumbles. He glances at Ethan and then at me. “Morning.”
