Now more than ever, I knew I’d been deluding myself into thinking this was going to be easy. Ethan looked like a ray of fucking sunshine breaking through darkness. Impeccably dressed—understated but elegant—and his hair, longer now, was dry this time. The light caught every shade of gold in those strands. He wore sunglasses—a very impressive pair, might I add—so I couldn’t quite catch his eyes, but I felt him looking straight at us. At Luca, to be precise.
I cleared my throat and stood to greet them.
“You couldn’t get a table inside?” Henry said, giving me a side hug. “It’s hotter than hell today.”
“Force of habit.”
“Luca, I assume.” Henry extended a hand. “I’m the little brother.”
Luca’s smile flickered back into place. “It is lovely to finally meet you.”
“This is Raúl—he follows me around—and Ethan, our…” Henry paused mid-introduction, eyes narrowing slightly as he weighed his next word. “Brother-in-law.”
“Nice to meet you both,” Luca said, his smile tightening a fraction as he extended his hand to Ethan.
A tense second ticked by before Ethan took it.
“Same,” he said, voice low, that familiar rasp curling around the word.
Then he turned to me, and his grin appeared—the full force of it hitting me square in the chest.
“Hey, Ash.” He tugged lightly on my shirt, drawing me down, and kissed my cheek.
It read like a power play, and my stomach tightened once more. So maybe this wouldn’t be smooth sailing after all.
Ethan dropped into the chair beside mine, and I caught Henry’s barely contained amusement, shooting him a scowl.
The server appeared, tablet in hand, ready to take our orders.
“What’s everybody having?” Henry asked.
“Macallan, neat,” Ethan and I said in unison.
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. Ethan chuckled under his breath, one shoulder lifting in that lazy, effortless way that always managed to pull focus.
Henry glanced at Luca, scanning the table like a host trying to keep the peace. “Luca, you want anything?”
“A glass of rosé, please.” Luca straightened, posture polite, voice smooth. “Thank you.”
Ethan made a soft sound beside me that could’ve been a scoff.
Henry started chatting with Raúl and Luca, clearly trying to smooth over the tension, but I couldn’t follow a single word of it. My attention drifted to Ethan—watching him from the corner of my eye as discreetly as possible.
He was wearing white linen shorts that were just a touch too short and fit him perfectly. They matched his shirt—short sleeves that showed off his arms. A bracelet glinted on his wrist—not the one I’d given him, thankfully—and a couple of rings caught the light as he shifted. And the sunglasses—are you kidding me? Since when did a guy his age get his hands on a pair of Jacques Marie Mage and look that good wearing them?
Just then, one of his hands drifted close to the hem of his shorts, and he hooked a ringed finger under it, lazily pulling itback just a smidge. I couldn’t help but take in the shape of his thighs, the dusting of golden hair over them. A sudden flashback of those same thighs wrapped tightly around my waist hit me hard, and my throat went dry.
A light tug on my sleeve pulled me back. “Ash?”
I turned to Luca. “Mh?”
“I was telling Henry that we met at a gala. Do you remember which one it was?”
I could barely remember my name right this second. “Fundraiser?”
“That is right. One of my friends organizes charity events at the opera house. That one was a fashion show,” Luca said, his fingers tracing from my sleeve down to my forearm.
I let it dangle between us, trying to keep it out of Ethan’s view. There was really no need to bruise his pride. Not that I assumed it would—but hewasa little competitive.
