He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “No need to apologize. I’ve enjoyed hearing about your plans. My week’s been the usual—wrangling a bunch of teenagers and trying to convince them that literature is more exciting than their phones.”
I grinned, amused by the image. “Sounds like quite the challenge. What’s it like, trying to keep their attention?”
“Well, let’s just say it involves a lot of creative tactics. Last week, I promised my class a movie day if they could get throughMacbethwithout any complaints. And it worked! Mostly because they thought they’d get to watch something likeThe Lion King. But nope, we watched the 1971 version ofMacbeth, and they were not amused,” he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
I burst out laughing. “Oh, you’re evil! But that’s kind of brilliant.”
He grinned, clearly enjoying my reaction. “You’ve got to keep them on their toes. And hey, by the end, they were grudgingly admitting that it wasn’t as bad as they thought. Victory for Shakespeare.”
I tooka sip of wine, still smiling. “I’m sure you make those classes way more interesting than you give yourself credit for.”
Ethan shrugged modestly. “I do what I can. But honestly, the best part of my week is spending time with Lily. She’s been on this wild kick lately where every day she’s something new—last weekend, she was a detective solving the mystery of who ate the last cookie. Spoiler: It was me, but I played along.”
“Did she crack the case?” I asked, grinning at the thought of little Lily playing detective.
“Oh, absolutely,” he said, laughing. “She interrogated me, set up a cookie sting operation, and even tried to get me to confess by threatening to call in reinforcements—her stuffed bear, Mr Fluffles.”
I smiled. “She sounds like a handful, in the best way.”
“She is,” Ethan agreed, his eyes softening as he talked about her. “She’s convinced she’s going to be a famous singer or a detective—or maybe she’ll pull a Hannah Montana and do both. You know, get the best of both worlds.”
I laughed, easily imagining a pint-sized Lily switching between solving mysteries and belting out songs on stage. “That’s pretty ambitious.”
Ethan chuckled. “Yeah, she’s got it all planned out. I’ll just be the older brother tagging along, trying to keep up with her adventures.”
“Lily sounds like so much fun,” I said, charmed by the way he spoke about his sister.
“She really is,” he said, a small, thoughtful smile playing on his lips. There was a brief pause, and I could see him weighing something in his mind before he looked up at me, shyness in his eyes. “Maybe I could introduce you to her sometime, if you’d like? She could use another girl in her life. Plus, it might save me—and my hair—from being experimented on daily,” he added with a playful grin.
I smiled back, touched by the offer. “I’d love that,” I replied softly, the warmth in my chest growing at the thought of meeting someone so important to him.
Ethan’s smile widened. “Great! Just a warning—she’ll probably make you her new favorite person,” he joked, but the sincerity in his tone made the moment feel even more special.
As we continued to chat, Laura returned to clear our plates, a mischievous glint in her eye as she set down a single plate, with a beautifully presented tiramisu upon it, and placed two spoons beside it.
“On the house,” she said with a wink. “Thought you two might enjoy sharing.”
Ethan gave me a playful look. “Guess we’re splitting dessert, then. Hope you don’t mind?”
I grinned, picking up a spoon. “Not at all. As long as you’re okay with me stealing more than my fair share. Tiramisu happens to be my absolute favorite.”
“Mine, too,” he admitted. “And I’m not above fighting for the last bite.”
We both laughed as we dug in, the first bite melting on my tongue with the perfect balance of creamy mascarpone and rich, espresso-soaked ladyfingers. The dessert was light yet indulgent, and sharing it felt unexpectedly intimate.
As we enjoyed the tiramisu, our conversation drifted into playful banter. We swapped stories about our most embarrassing moments—Ethan’s involved leading his students into a restricted area of a museum during a class trip, and mine being about the time I tripped and spilled coffee all over a new piece of artwork I’d just completed.
Ethan laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’d pay good money to see that,” he teased. “Did the artwork survive?”
“Barely,” I replied, grinning at the memory. “But hey, if you remember, you also survived my coffee-spilling skills. Maybe I’m just adding character to everything I touch.”
He chuckled, nodding in agreement. “So, I’m a walking masterpiece now? I’ll take it.”
As Ethan took the last bite of tiramisu, I found myself captivated by the way he savored it, his eyes closing for a brief moment as he enjoyed the rich, creamy flavor. There was something oddly sensual about the way his lips lingered on the spoon, and I couldn’t help but stare, a surprising heat rising in me.
When his eyes opened and met mine, I glanced away, my heart racing, mortified to be caught staring. I tried to focus on anything else—the flickering candle on the table, the soft hum of conversations around us—but I could still feel his gaze on me.
“You, uh . . . you’ve got a little something,” Ethan murmured, leaning in closer. Before I could react, his thumb gently brushed against my lower lip, wiping away a tiny smudge of chocolate.
