“You okay?” Ethan’s voice pulled me back.
I blinked. “Sorry. Long week. What were you saying?”
“Just that my mom’s been trying to perfect her carbonara for years.” He tilted his head, studying me with more perception than I’d given him credit for. “Where’d you go just now?”
“Nowhere.” I forced a smile. “Tell me more about the carbonara rivalry.”
He let it go, but I could tell he’d noticed. Of course he’d noticed. He was a journalist too. We were trained to read people.
We finished dinner and declined dessert and split the check despite his protests. He walked us to the parking lot, the night air cool against my bare arms.
California evenings had a way of turning crisp once the sun went down, the warmth of the day giving way to something sharper.
“I had a really good time,” he said.
“Me too.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. The food had been wonderful. The company had been good. The problem was me—sitting through a perfectly nice dinner with a perfectly nice man while my stupid heart kept wandering somewhere it had no business going.
He leaned in and kissed my cheek. Gentle. Warm. It left no impression at all.
“Could we do this again sometime?”
I looked at him standing there in the parking lot lights, hands in his pockets, expression open and hopeful. Kind eyes. Honest face. Everything I should want.
“Ethan…” I took a breath. “I think we should stay friends.”
Something flickered across his face—disappointment—but he covered it quickly. He nodded once, slowly. “Sure. Yeah. Friends is good.”
“I’m sorry. You’re wonderful, really. This isn’t about?—”
“Is it about Jack Specter?”
The question landed like a stone in still water. I stared at him.
“You haven’t been yourself since he stopped coming to the office,” Ethan said quietly.
There was no accusation in his voice, just observation. “I’ve noticed. The way you look at the elevator every time it opens. You’ve been somewhere else even when you’re sitting right in front of me.” He shrugged, a small sad movement. “I’m not blind, Pauline.”
I opened my mouth to deny it but nothing came out.
“I don’t know what’s going on between you two,” Ethan said. “And you don’t have to tell me. But whatever it is…” He smiled — genuine, if a little sad. “I hope you figure it out. I really do.”
“Ethan—”
“It’s okay.” He stepped back, giving me space. “I’d rather know now than keep wondering. And for what it’s worth? Whatever’s keeping you two apart—it seems like it matters. Maybe that’s worth fighting for.”
He drove me home and I let the cool air from the window wash over my face. I stood on my door and he waved me goodbye.
“Goodnight Pauline. See you at work?”
“Sure. Have a goodnight too.”
I called Claudette from my couch later that night. I was toying with my wine glass when she picked up.
“Claudie, I’m so confused.”
“What’s wrong? About what.” Worry seeped through her voice when through the phone.
I was confused about everything. My emotions have been on a whirlwind lately.
