Life outside my office…
The idea of a life with some balance—of having something that wasn’t just work—felt… right. And then it was there all at once—the pull to stay in it. To live in the moment. To enjoy it. To stop thinking five steps ahead and just be in what was right in front of me.
My grasp on Ethan tightened as I smiled through the ache. “Okay.”
“Good.” Henry clapped once and pivoted into motion. “Okay, people, positions. We have a crisis to solve and sandwiches to demolish. Mateo, stop leaning and start contributing. Raúl, drop the attitude.” He pointed at Oliver. “You—keep going. Whatever you’ve got, that’s where we start. And Elena—” he paused, eyeing her. “You’re actually terrifying, so I’m just going to hand the proverbial mic back to you.”
The room came alive around me—chairs scraping, coats dropping, voices overlapping—everyone falling into place with an ease that made my throat tighten.
I stayed where I was for a moment, taking it all in. Ethan remained tucked against my side, solid and warm beneath my arm, his presence steadying in a way words never could.
“Thank you,” I said, leaning in closer, my voice low.
“Wasn’t me.” His gaze moved across the room—my brothers, my team, my family. “You’ve got a lot of people in your corner, Ash.”
Something in my chest gave, quiet and undeniable.
“Guess I do.”
The apartment had only just quieted.
The whiteboard stood in the living room, marker caps scattered across the coffee table, the faint smell of deli sandwiches lingering in the air. Chairs sat slightly out of place. Everyone had filtered out one by one. Only Henry—the last to leave—had drifted to the terrace with Ethan while we sat going over numbers.
Their voices carried faintly through the cracked door as I stepped into my bedroom, loosening the buttons of my shirt as I went, the weight of the day settling into my muscles. Not the bone-deep strain I’d been carrying for weeks—just the heavy pull that comes after you finally stop moving.
I was about to knock on the frame when I heard my name.
My hand stilled.
Through the narrow opening, I could see them near the railing, shapes softened by the night beyond. Henry leaned back against the metal, arms folded loosely, Ethan beside him,shoulders slightly hunched against the cold, head tipped down like he was listening and bracing at the same time.
Something about the sight kept me in place.
Ethan around Henry had always been a slightly different version of himself. Softer. Less guarded. And I couldn’t make myself interrupt it—that openness, that rare unarmored honesty.
“I’m just saying,” Henry murmured, his breath fogging in the cold, “for someone who swears he doesn’t want drama, you really like walking straight into it.”
Ethan huffed a soft laugh. “Shut up.”
“I’m serious.” Henry bumped his shoulder. “So? Should I congratulate you? Are we doing champagne? Flowers? Matching sweaters? What’s happening?”
“Nothing’s happening.”
Henry didn’t buy it. “Sure. Nothing. That’s definitely what it looked like this morning when you both walked out like you’d been fucked six ways to Sunday.”
Ethan groaned. “Jesus, Henny.”
“Well?” Henry pressed as he laughed. “You’re glowing and bruised. I feel like I’m owed at least a little transparency.”
Headlights streaked from far below, the space between them holding.
Then Ethan sighed. “Of course we had sex,” he said. “It’s Sebastian. What else would you expect?”
I didn’t know a sentence could hit two places at once. First, the sting of dismissal. Then the weight of guilt. But lie in the bed you made and all that.
Henry’s voice softened. “And?”
“And nothing,” Ethan said. “We slept together. That’s it.”
