From now on, my life’s timeline can be divided into before and after my night with Liz.
Chapter Eight
ETHAN
I don’t turnthe lights on when we get inside.
The apartment is warm from the heat kicking on earlier, the quiet settling around us like a held breath. City glow spills in through the windows, pale and silver against the dark. Liz stands just inside the door.
She looks at me, then away. Is she nervous? Curious? I hope for the latter.
“Do you want some water?” I ask. “Tea?”
She shakes her head. “I’m okay.”
I nod, walking into the room to give her space and turning on a table lamp. The yellow light makes the space a little warmer. I’m not much for decorating, prefer function over form. More than one person has called my living space cold.
“This is the part where I say,” I add gently, “you can change your mind at any point.”
Her shoulders ease a fraction. “I know,” she says, stepping into the living room.
She notices the tree in the corner, white lights only. No ornaments. No spectacle. Just enough to acknowledge theseason without demanding joy. “You don’t hate Christmas as much as you pretend,” she says quietly, sitting down on my sofa.
I smile. “Selective participation.”
She laughs, and I love the husky sound.
I sit on the edge of the coffee table across from her, not crowding. The distance hums with awareness.
“I told you I had another gift,” I say.
Her eyes flicker. “You did.”
“This one’s… different.” I take a breath. “And before I show you, I want to explain.”
She nods, chin lifting. Trusting me to land this.
“I overheard you,” I say carefully. “Last week. In the cafeteria. You and Sara.” The words land exactly how I expected them to.
Her face drains of color. “Oh my god,” she whispers, burying her face in her hands.
“I wasn’t trying to listen,” I continue quickly, holding her wrists but not pulling her hands away. “But I heard my name and that made me stop. And then I couldn’t make myself walk away.”
She covers her face with her hands. “I can’t believe you know about the dream.”
“I’m glad I found out,” I breathe. “If I hadn’t, I would never have asked you to come home with me tonight. And you did nothing wrong.”
She peeks at me between her fingers, eyes wide and mortified. “I dreamed about my boss.”
“You dreamed about a man,” I correct gently. “Who happens to be your boss.”
She lets out a strangled laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”
“It’s the truth. And I’m very honored to star in your dream.”
She groans and rubs her face deeper into her palms. I gently pull her hands away. Her face is glowing red from embarrassment. “And there’s still the gift I want to give you.”
“What is it?” she asks, voice barely above a whisper.
