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“Wow,” she said as the driver closed the door behind us.
“It’s a bit of a drive to the event,” I said as she settled next to me. “So at least we’ll be comfortable.”
“That’s one way to describe it,” she said, taking in the spacious backseat and the closed partition separating the driver from us, as the car started moving. “So,” she said, surveying me. “You said Nepal was uneventful, which I somehow don’t understand since you went whitewater kayaking for fun, but has anything come up since we last saw each other?”
I shook my head. “Nothing.”
“No incidents or episodes?”
I sighed. “There was a moment at the poker game with Doyle,” I admitted. “He was being crass, as usual. I shouldn’t let it get to me, but he said something about you.” I shrugged. “I did my breathing, my grounding, and I was fine.”
A bright smile shaped her full lips. “I’m so proud of you.”
My chest puffed out just a fraction, pride swelling through me at the happiness shining in her eyes. “It’s all because of you,” I said. “If it weren’t for you and what you’ve been teaching me, I might’ve flown across the table at him.”
She shook her head. “I don’t believe that,” she said. “And this is all you. I’m merely…like an assistant. You’re doing all the hard work.”
I flashed her a soft smile. She wasn’t wrong about doing hard work—I was learning things about myself I hadn’t realized before. Like my triggers. Without her careful observance, her shadowing me for weeks, I would’ve never realized that I was most likely to have an outburst when something or someone I loved was threatened. There was this deep, protective instinct in me that I never noticed until it was too late.
“What did the prick say about me?” she asked, nudging me with her shoulder.
“It’s not worth repeating,” I said.
“That bad, huh? He’s never even met me. Sounds like he was just trying to get under your skin.”
“That’s a definite,” I said. “He does that with everyone.” I shrugged. “He was pressuring me about the bet.”
“Ah,” she said, smirking up at me. “Still trying to get me to fall for you, Ethan Berkley?”
“Always,” I responded to the little question that had become our secret thing.
“Hmm,” she said thoughtfully. “I’m so sorry that I’m responsible for that inevitable loss.”
I grinned down at her. “Don’t be. You’d like Gareth’s charity. There is no loss here.”
Except for the fact that we were denying everything between us for the sake of my mental health, which, yeah okay, that was important, but why couldn’t we have both? Why couldn’t she help me work out my issues while also building something real for the future?
Holy shit, did I want that? A future with her?
I furrowed my brow, seriously considering what my life would look like without her. I’d gotten so used to her presence, her infectious compassion, her steady hand and understanding when I felt like I was breaking. How could I go back to the way I’d been before? Aimlessly dating with no intention of making a genuine connection, working myself into the ground, the only real joy I had being my team and my inner circle.
“What’s that look?” she asked gently after a few moments.
“What look?” I asked, my heart already flinching at the prospect of going back to a life without her.
I was so fucked.
Alex reached up and traced her fingertip between my brows, which were still furrowed. She smoothed out the lines there as I released a deep breath.
“Honestly?”
“Always,” she answered.
“I don’t want this to end,” I admitted. “And I’m not just talking about how you’re helping me professionally.”
Her lips parted open. “Ethan…”
“I know,” I said. “You told me to be honest. I am. I like you. I’ve liked you from the moment you grilled me that night with questions and gave me a kiss test. I like you more every day, even when you’re texting me ridiculous yoga sessions that I do, regardless of how terrible I am at them.”
She smiled up at me. “Mindfulness is one of the key factors in emotion regulation—”
“I know,” I said. “Tell me I’m wrong,” I said, shifting so I could face her. “Tell me I’m the only one who feels this between us, and I’ll drop it.”
Her eyes flashed, darting from my eyes to my mouth and back again. “You know I can’t.”
Relief rushed through me so quickly it almost hurt.
“Then give me thirty days,” I said, the idea suddenly hitting me over the head—a safe way to explore what we could be to each other.
“What?”
“Give me thirty days, Alex,” I practically begged. “Thirty days. That’s it. Your rule. Thirty days where we don’t have to just be client and coach. Thirty days where I don’t have to fight to keep myself from reaching for you.”
