"It's pre-Christmas dinner," I say simply.
He swallows hard. "Could I... could I have a word with you before dinner? In private?"
I sense rather than see Bash stiffen behind me.
"I don't think that's a good idea," Bash says, suddenly at my side.
I turn to him, placing a hand on his chest. "It's okay." When he looks unconvinced, I add, "I'll be right back, I promise."
Bash's jaw tightens, but he nods. "Are you sure?"
"I am." I rise on tiptoe to kiss him lightly. "Save my seat."
Ethan stands and I follow him into the kitchen, acutely aware of Bash's eyes tracking us until we're out of sight. The kitchen is warm and fragrant with dinner preparations, but empty for the moment.
Ethan leans against the counter, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. He seems to be gathering his thoughts, so I give him space, folding my arms and waiting.
The silence stretches uncomfortably.
"You wanted to talk?" I finally prompt.
He looks up, his eyes red-rimmed. "I'm sorry," he blurts. "God, Charlie, I'm so so sorry. For everything."
I nod slowly. "It's okay."
"No, it's not okay." He rakes a hand through his hair. "I screwed up. I screwed everything up. Breaking up with you was the stupidest thing I've ever done."
I wasn't expecting this. An apology for Olivia's actions, yes. But this?
"Ethan—"
"Please, just let me say this." He takes a deep breath. "I thought the grass was greener. I thought I wanted something different, something more. But I was wrong. You were everything I needed, and I was too blind to see it."
A knot forms in my stomach. Six months ago, I would have given anything to hear these words. Now they just make me sad.
"When I saw you with him," Ethan continues, "how happy you are, how you light up when he walks into a room... it hit me. That's what we could have had, if I hadn't been such a selfish prick."
"Is that why you were high the other night?" I ask quietly.
He nods miserably. "I couldn't stand seeing it. You, thriving without me. Moving on. Being loved the way I should have loved you."
"And Olivia?" I keep my voice neutral.
Ethan closes his eyes. "I told her the truth. That I still had feelings for you. She didn't take it well." He swallows hard. "That's why she did what she did. It's my fault, Charlie. If I hadn't said anything—"
"No," I cut him off firmly. "Olivia's actions were her own. You didn't tell her to put shellfish in that lasagna. She made those choices."
"But if I hadn't—"
"Please stop." I step closer, making sure he hears me clearly. "You're responsible for your choices, Ethan. Not hers. What she did was criminal. What you did was just... human."
He looks at me, surprised. "You don't hate me?"
I consider the question seriously. "No," I say finally. "I don't hate you. For a long time, I was angry. Hurt. But now?" I shrug. "Now I just feel like we just weren't meant to be."
"Because of him?" There's no bitterness in the question, just resignation.
"Partly," I admit. "But mostly because of me. I've changed, Ethan. I know what I want now, and who I want to be. And I think you held me back from that without either of us realizing it."
