“Mom told me you already know everything that happened to her... What my dad did.”
I nod.
“So you know how strong she is,” he continues. “How she went through all of it with her head held high and stayed the mom Alicia and I have always loved.”
The admiration in his voice soothes something deep in my chest.
“But just because she’s strong doesn’t mean she should keep getting hurt,” he adds, his hands tightening on the edge of the island. “Just because she can get back up doesn’t mean it’s okay.”
He lowers his head, then meets my gaze again.
“She said she trusts you. That she loves you.”
I don’t try to hide the smile that forms, knowing she shared that with them matters more than I can explain.
“So I’m doing what I’ve always done,” he says, making no effort to hide his vulnerability. “I’m trusting her to make the right decision.”
He straightens, looking me dead in the eye before adding,
“Don’t hurt my mother, Alexander. If you ever change your mind, or decide you don’t want this anymore—don’t hurt her. Be a man. Walk away.”
I move to the other side of the island, keeping a respectful distance, and look at him calmly. “I love your mother as I’ve never loved anyone. I know words don’t mean much unless they’re backed by actions, so I won’t offer promises I can’t prove.”
I hold his gaze.
“All I’m asking for is a chance. To get to know you and your sister. To be part of your lives without forcing myself into them. On your terms.”
With time, he’ll see there isn’t even the smallest possibility of me hurting her. Betraying her. Or walking away.
And with time, he’ll understand that in a way, I already care deeply for him and Alicia… because they are part of the woman I love.
Ethan nods, then turns back to arranging the cutlery for dessert on the tray.
Just before we leave the kitchen, he adds almost offhandedly, “You should grab the cinnamon too. Mom likes a little sprinkled on her slice.”
I smile. “Thank you.”
He nods again and starts toward the dining room while I turn to where he pointed out the spices are kept. I know it isn’t about the cinnamon. Or even about his mother’s preference. What he offered, what he chose to do, was his way of saying he’ll try. For her.
I bring the pie and the ice cream to the table. When I set the cinnamon down beside Cecilia, she looks at me first, then at her son. Her smile wavers for a beat, her eyes bright as she places her hand over his.
I cut and serve the pie. When I hand Alicia her plate, I keep the piece modest. She thanks me, but her eyes don’t meet mine. I pay attention as she takes her first bite, cautiously. Then her expression changes. She takes another bite. And then another.
Ethan laughs beside her and starts on his own slice.
Alicia is the first to finish. She wastes no time serving herself a second piece. Much larger this time.
“I’m sorry, Alexander,” she says a little awkwardly after another forkful of pie and ice cream. “I wasn’t trying to be rude. It’s just that at home none of the guys was ever any good in the kitchen. Ethan’s... okay. But it’s not great.”
Ethan narrows his eyes. “I’ll remember that next time you ask me to make pancakes because you’re too lazy to make yours.”
Alicia shrugs. “At least yours are better than Dad’s. He burns everything and doesn’t even try anymore.”
The air shifts, just slightly. I catch Ethan’s glance toward me. Cecilia notices it too.
“I’ll teach your mom,” I say lightly. “She can show you, and then you can teach your dad.”
Ethan’s smile tells me he’s holding something back.
