“Yeah. He asked me about you once. Like… kind of assuming we were still in contact. And when I told him we weren’t, he saidsame.”
“My father saidsame?”
Ethan smiled and rolled his eyes. “Like… that same intention but in your dad’s very formal tone.”
I chuckled. “Of course.” My eyes drifted down to my cup as a frown tugged at my lips. He’d actually asked about me? And to Ethan of all people.
“Daddy issues, am I right?”
That surprised another laugh out of me. “Right.” I took a bigger sip. “Those usually work in my favor.”
Ethan let out a little huff. “Still? Luca doesn’t look that young. How old is he?”
“Thirty-two.”
His eyebrows arched, but he said nothing.
I opted for the safe subject change. “How did that internship work out for you?”
He sighed and leaned back. “Good. I worked with Oli too—when he could. It was fun. Hard but fun.”
I finished my coffee, setting the cup down slowly. The soft murmur of early conversations drifted out from the café behind us, but between us the air felt tight. A little odd, considering everything had gone almost smoothly up until now. But I guess we couldn’t ignore the bad things forever.
Ethan must’ve been thinking the same thing, because he got that resolute look on his face—jaw ticking before his eyes locked on mine. “Hey Ash, I need to ask you something.”
My stomach rolled. “Sure, darling. Anything.”
His leg picked up its bouncing again. “I just know it’s going to bug the hell out of me, because here we are acting like nothing happened, and that’s okay. It’s nice to know things are still comfortable between us, but…”
“Yeah?”
He licked his lips. “Like I told your dad… you and I haven’t talked in years. And we didn’t exactly leave things on the best note, so. Maybe we should clear that up.”
I nodded once. “What did you want to ask?”
He bit down on his lip, looked at his lap, then back at me. “Why did you stop texting?”
Fuck.
It wasn’t even 7 a.m.
“Things had ended,” I said. “But they didn’t. I think it was doing more harm than good.”
His mouth tightened. He was clearly trying to restrain his anger—not to spare me, but to keep me from seeing how much it affected him. Which was worse. I’d rather live in the fantasy world where he didn’t hate me.
“Right. You could’ve told me that…”
“I’m sorry.”
He shook his head, leg stopping for a beat before bouncing again. Then he looked at me, like he wasn’t done. “That’s not it, though. It felt like something happened, because one day youwere there, and then you just weren’t.” Porcelain clinked softly as he tapped his ring against the rim of his cup. “Did something happen? Like… did you start seeing someone or something?”
I sighed and stared down at the table. How the hell was I supposed to handle this?
“Did you ever talk to Henny about this?” I asked as carefully as I could.
Ethan frowned. “Probably. But what does Henny have to do?—”
Our gazes held.
