Chapter 34 – Amanda
Thirty-Four
Amanda
E than is acting weird. I don’t want to diagnose him or anything but… that man has lost his mind. If I didn’t know any better, I would say that he’s hiding something. But, I know from my training that it’s probably my “unresolved childhood trauma” from the gambling issues that run in my family… and possibly the fact that I watched Ethan gamble Mallory’s life away right in front of me… and that crazy guilt-sex we had after he got home from the bar two weeks ago.
It was guilt-sex, right? He’s never home that late. And he’s never that drunk. And he was weirdly romantic in a way that doesn’t match the hairy beast I normally go to bed with. I don’t mind the romance, it just… shocked me.
I still don’t know what to make of Ethan. Do biker dudes get married? Will he expect me to do it in front of an Elvis impersonator in Vegas? Do I even want to get married?
If we could live like this… yes. I don’t think I would survive long without my work. It fulfills me in a way that dick just can’t. But… I would miss this. I would miss Ethan’s big hairy body taking up most of my bed. I would miss his thick beard. I would miss having someone to stay up all night worrying about.
There’s something about him that awakens my nurturing in all the right ways.
But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s acting weird. And I don’t know what to do about it.
I decide to be subtle and track his movements.
He catches on by breakfast.
“Why are you following me everywhere?” he asks grouchily while eating the breakfast I sacrificed energy to prepare him.
“I’m not doing that.”
“You watched me shower. You watched me do the laundry. You cooked me breakfast while looking over your shoulder every minute and now, you’re watching me eat.”
“Okay, detective.”
“That’s not an explanation.”
I have to break every rule of being a therapist and manipulate him.
“This accusation has racial undertones.”
“Such as…?” Ethan asks, raising his eyebrows.
“Are you denying my experiences?”
Ethan sighs. “That bullshit won’t work on me. Why are you following me?”
“I’m not.”
“Look, we could solve this like every immature ass couple in the club and I can tie you to the bed for a week until you talk… or we can talk now. Like adults.”
“Maybe I’m the one who would tie you to the bed.”
Ethan snorts. “I’d like to see you try. I could pin you to the wall with my thumb.”
Our eyes flicker to each other’s with that freaky ass sexual tension that crops up when your man threatens to physically dominate you.
“You’re the one acting weird,” I tell him. “I’m wondering if you’re cheating or something.”
Okay, I know he’s not cheating, but I also promised you that I would be manipulating my man, which is exactly what I’m doing. It’s as close to mature conversation as I can handle with this much tension and fear for the future.
Ethan scowls immediately. “I have no interest in any other women. Frankly, I find most women annoying.”
“So? You find me annoying.”
He looks at me impatiently and lies. “I do not,” he says. “I love you unconditionally.”
It’s a lie that makes me feel guilty for being manipulative.
“Ethan…”
“I do,” he says. “You’re willing to take a chance on me and… I won’t let you ruin this.”
“Ruin what?”
“My plan,” he says. Then he shoves his phone across the table, presumably to show me something.
“Um… what’s that?” I ask, gazing down in confusion at what looks like a real estate listing.
“I arranged a tour for you to get some new office space in Boston today.”
“Is that your big surprise?”
Ethan pauses. “Sure.”
Seems reasonable enough.
“Ethan! This place is $6,000 a month.”
“Exactly. You can get better clients. More stable clients.”
“I can’t afford that.”
“Yes you can,” he says. “I’ll sign a year lease if you like it. No strings attached.”
He can’t be serious right now.
“Look, I don’t want to hesitate,” Ethan says. “Anything can happen to me at any time. I need you looked after, even if we’re in this… in between phase…”
He means our “is it a relationship” relationship. I’ve been trying not to question the absence of labels and just focus on how he makes me feel. That’s healthy, right?
“You can’t pay for a year of my office rent.”
“I can. And I trust you will make the money back once you get established. If you want to be in Boston… I want to commit to being with you.”
“Ethan…”
“Will you just go look at it? If it feels wrong… fine.”
But I can tell that he wants it to feel right.
“I’ll go look.”
“Good,” he says. “It’s a Murray building. You should be fine without an escort.”
“What will you be doing?”
“More laundry. Anything to turn you on once you get back.”
He winks at me and I feel a flutter that goes straight down between my thighs. Why the hell would I worry about labels when just one look from this man turns me on? I screenshot the address and text it to myself from his phone.
“Your appointment with the realtor is at 10 a.m.”
Ethan’s plan doesn’t leave me much time to get ready, but it’s enough. I throw on my nicest casual outfit and take a rideshare against Ethan’s express commands, because who in their right mind would rely on the ‘T’ on such short notice?
I get there right on time and I don’t get kidnapped – thank goodness. I’m getting used to being a normal person again, who doesn’t expect a maniac with a gun to be waiting around every corner. The realtor showing me the apartment reminds me of Mallory, tugging on my heartstrings a little bit.
Ethan couldn’t have planned that much.
“I’m Orla Murray,” she says with a bright smile. “Has anyone ever told you that you look like a young Angela Bassett?”
Considering how good Angela Bassett has always looked for her age, I have to take it as a compliment. And if it’s a realtor’s trick… I fall for it.
“Thank you. I have not heard that before.”
“You’re gorgeous. I think you would do incredibly as a business owner in this neighborhood…”
The tour is too perfect. I know from the second we walk into the building lobby that I need to sign the lease. It’s expensive but… I know I can make the money back. The realtor must be damn good at her job because she convinces me completely that I’ll have access to “Ben Affleck level” of Boston-based clients in a neighborhood like this.
We would have gotten there in Cambridge, but… this is prime real estate in a prime area of Boston. Ethan must have known that I couldn’t say no to this but…
What the hell would make this rough and tumble man sign this lease for me? Ethan has never wanted to live in Boston. I turn over all the questions in my mind after the meeting and take the ‘T’ on the way back home just because I need more time to think.
Mallory still hasn’t texted me from her new number, so I have nobody close enough to text my panicked thoughts about Ethan to on the way home. I just go a little… numb. Could Keyshawn understand this predicament? It’s not fair for me to disrupt her life with my problems, honestly.
What do I even want her to do? Find out why my boyfriend (of sorts) is acting suspicious? He’s a criminal. Maybe that’s why…
I walk up to the apartment door and punch the code in. Before I hit the last number, Ethan swings the door open with a big, mischievous grin on his face.
“Hello, beautiful.”
Okay. Cute greeting. But still suspicious.
“Ethan… You’re scaring me.”
He takes my hand and presses it to his lips before dragging me into the apartment which now looks… different. I’m even more scared than before. He moved all the furniture. Blew up a bunch of white balloons. Set a two-person table with a bottle of wine on it…
I’m straight up panicking.
“Do you have cancer?”
Ethan looks confused. “What? No. Just… hush… Come inside…”
He taps a button on his phone and the lights dim while some romantic French classical music fills the room. Coming from…where exactly? I don’t remember us getting a speaker system. But I can’t ask any questions because Ethan has his hands on my hips and… I’m wondering if this is some type of biker style ritual sacrifice.
“Dance with me,” he says, forcing me to gaze back into his eyes. “Please, Amanda. Just… dance with me.”
* * *