My pulse is thundering in my ears. "Am I a risk?"
"If you are, then you are the best kind."
We're staring at each other, and I'm drowning in those eyes, in the possibility of what could happen if I just leaned forward, if I closed the distance between us. I’m contemplating making that first move, seeing what it feels like to kiss him and trying to get up enough courage to do it, when Ethan's phone rings, shattering the moment.
He steps back, running a hand through his hair as he answers. "Dr. Cross."
I try to focus on the florist proposals, but my hands are shaking.
What was that?
What is this?
Ethan finishes his call and turns back to me. "Sorry. Work emergency."
"Everything okay?"
"One of my patients is having complications and needs to go back into surgery. I need to go to the hospital."
"Of course. Go."
He hesitates. "Will you be okay here? Don’t feel like you have to leave, I’m totally fine with you being here alone. You can stay, work, and make yourself at home."
"Ethan, go. Your patient needs you."
Something flashes across his face. Pride, maybe. Or appreciation.
"Thank you." He grabs his keys. "I'll text you when I know more."
Then he's gone, leaving me alone in his enormous house with my racing thoughts. While I’m not happy about his patient needing extra care, I am thankful for the moment to gather my thoughts together.
I spend the rest of the day coordinating vendors and finalizing details. The caterer confirms the menu. The party rental company schedules delivery for Friday afternoon. The jeweler sends progress photos of the necklace, and it's even more beautiful than I imagined.
Everything is falling into place.
By early evening, I'm mentally exhausted but satisfied. If he is going to insist on paying me this absurd amount of money, I’m going to make sure every single detail is perfect. I pack up my things, ready to head home, when my phone buzzes.
Ethan: Still at the hospital. Patient is stable but I'll be here a while longer.
Lily: I'm glad they're okay. I'm heading out.
Ethan: Wait.
I pause, fingers hovering over my keys.
Ethan: There's leftover pasta in the fridge. And wine in the rack. Stay. Eat. Relax.
Lily: Ethan...
Ethan: Please. I hate the thought of you going home to an empty apartment when you could be comfortable here.
There's something in the way he phrases it. Not demanding. Not even expecting. Just... offering. Caring.
Lily: Okay. I'll stay for a bit.
Ethan: Thank you.
I find the pasta exactly where he said it would be, and I heat it up while pouring myself a glass of the wine he recommended. Then I settle onto his couch, which is literally the most comfortable piece of furniture I've ever experienced, and put on a movie.
