Cali pulled two chairs side by side and rebooted her computer, pivoting the screen so it faced them.
Ethan set down the books and folder and rubbed at his neck. He smelled fresh. His hair was still damp, curling slightly at the edges like he’d just stepped out of the shower.
“Looks like something’s brewing,” Ethan remarked.
He pointed through her open window blinds in the direction of some menacing black clouds. The sky was already getting darkfrom the onset of dusk. But with the oncoming clouds in the mix, it already looked like the middle of the night out there.
“Then we better make this quick,” said Cali, threading the needle she suspected he didn’t want to thread. What was the point of even agreeing to come anyway if he actually didn’t want to see her? She motioned at the chair, and he sat down to kick-start the cross-comparison of her spreadsheet, the shared note, and some last-minute donations he said he’d secured.
She tried to concentrate on the screen, but the rhythm of his breathing beside her kept stealing her focus. He was so close to her. Had she placed the chairs that close together? One brief reminder of the way his knees touched hers under the table during that dinner at her place almost undid her. Each time he leaned forward to point something out, the clean scent of soap filled her lungs until she forgot which column she was editing.
Three of the items added since they last checked were anonymous donations. Ethan brushed it off, saying any concerns could go through him. He knew the donor. Cali didn’t want to argue about how hard it might be to explain that to the mayor, who needed to hype up the donations either by their value or connection to the community, let alone how hard it might be to get answers to follow-up questions after someone won the bid. So she bit her tongue. At least he captured the details she’d originally requested. That was about all they could do for now.
The rain ticked up, a soft percussion against the windowpane. She pretended to read, cross-check and then type, but she could feel the warmth of him in the few inches between them, the faint sound of his sleeve brushing against hers when he shifted documents around in his manila folder.
Ethan, who had been twiddling his thumbs, pulled her from her silent strategizing. “For that porch swing, the donor would like to just provide a few photos. They’ll deliver it, but it’s too big to bring into the ballroom. Obviously.”
She nodded. “Yeah, I was just thinking, if Mrs. Ellery doesn’t already have the set-up planned, we might benefit from displaying everything during cocktail hour. Give people time to stew over what they want to bid on. Generate some competition before the competition starts. There’s just so much here!”
Cali had to admit the finalized list of donations Ethan secured was extensive. Big ticket items. Small, cherished treasures. Every person in Autumn Ridge had something they could throw their money at. For the first fundraiser the Nine Lives Club ever hosted, Cali couldn’t imagine a better assortment. They’d all be fostering strays in no time. She imagined them roaring with enthusiasm once they saw the list.
Ethan blushed. “It’s only, like, 30 donations.”
“Yeah, well, that’s 30 more than we had before,” she said. “Did you text The Nine? They’ll probably throw a separate celebration in your honor just for this.”
The rain began softly tapping against the window, and both of them turned their gaze toward the sound.
He looked at her then, really looked, and for a second she forgot how to breathe. The air between them felt charged—not with tension exactly, but with everything she’d been refusing to admit. She needed to right this, but she couldn’t tell if this moment was the moment to try. Her fingers gripped the edge of the paper in her hand.
“You don’t have to keep doing that,” he said.
“Doing what?”
“Pretending everything’s fine when it’s obviously not. I’m sorry I showed up late like this. I was so focused on getting those donations. The week kind of got away from me.”
His words landed gently, not accusing, and she felt the tightness in her chest ease.
“You’re right. I’ve been … off,” she admitted. “I know. I’m sorry.”
He gave a small nod and reached out to her fidgety hand, folding it in his. His thumb traced along her knuckles and the long lines of her fingers. “You don’t have to apologize. People pull back when they’re scared of losing something. I get it.”
Her eyes flicked to his, startled by the truth of it, startled the truth was coming out of his mouth instead of her own. “But how did you …?”
“Minka told me not to give up on you,” he added quietly.
Cali pulled her hand from his and stiffened. “She what?”
“She meant well.”
“But I explicitly told her not to meddle in this,” Cali huffed. “Why didn’t you just come talk to me instead of Minka?”
Ethan leaned back in disbelief. “Every time since—every time I try to talk to you, you’ve acted like you don’t want anything to do with me anymore, Cali.” His gray eyes shifted toward the storm and back to her. “How do you think I knew when you’d be away from home long enough to fix your deck? I had to ask Minka. If I’d asked you, you would’ve told me to forget it.”
Cali’s jaw dropped. She wanted to argue, to say he was wrong, but the words jammed in her throat.
“Yoo-hoo!” came from the hallway. “Can I borrow Ethan a minute?” Bernadette asked, completely unaware of what she’d walked into.
Ethan couldn’t have disappeared from her office faster.Good, she thought.I just wanted to be headed home right now anyway.She finalized the spreadsheet and emailed everyone who’d need a copy then went to clean out her mug.
