Chapter 4
Idon't sleep.
Not really. And it’s not for lack of trying. I keep picking up my phone and doing quick math. You know, the kind every insomniac is practiced at. If I fall asleep right now, I’ll get seven hours of sleep before I have to get up.
If I fall asleep right now, I’ll get four hours of sleep before I have to get up…
Instead of sleeping, I lie in Ethan's guest bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment of the evening. The way he looked at me across the dinner table. The warmth of his hand on mine. The quiet intensity in his voice when he said, I want to know you.
By the time the sun starts filtering through the curtains, I've given up on rest entirely.
I slip out of bed, find my clothes from yesterday and put them on before tiptoeing downstairs.
The house is silent. Peaceful. I should leave.
Grab my bag, sneak out before Ethan wakes up, and avoid the awkward morning-after conversation that isn't even actually a morning-after because nothing happened. Nothing other than the best conversation of my life. I can’t believe we spoke for hours, and I mean hours.
I’ve never talked to anyone for that long in my life.
But then I smell coffee.
I follow the scent to the kitchen and find Ethan standing at the counter, pouring two mugs.
He's wearing gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt, and his hair is slightly mussed like he just woke up. Those sweatpants leave almost nothing up to the imagination. I can’t help but notice the large bulge in the front.
My mouth waters, literally waters, and it’s not from the smell of the coffee.
He looks unfairly good.
"Morning," he says, glancing over his shoulder.
"Morning." I hover in the doorway. "I didn't mean to sleep so late."
"It's seven a.m., Lily. That's not late."
"It is for me."
He hands me a mug, and our fingers brush. The contact is brief but electric.
"How'd you sleep?" he asks.
"Fine," I lie.
His mouth quirks. "Liar."
"Okay, fine. I barely slept. Happy?"
"Not particularly." He leans against the counter, studying me. "Why didn't you sleep?"
Because I couldn't stop thinking about you.
"New place," I say instead. "I'm not used to sleeping anywhere but my apartment."
"Understandable." But he doesn't look convinced. "But Lily?"
"Yes?" I manage to squeak out.
"I don’t like being lied to, little girl." He takes a long drink of his coffee cup while I contemplate this moment. What should I do? What do I even say to that? "But, I’ll let it slip, just this once."
I take a sip of coffee to avoid his gaze. It's perfect. Strong, with just a hint of cream and sweetness, exactly like I imagine my potential Daddy will be.
What the hell is wrong with me?
"I should get going," I say. "I have a lot to do today."
"About that." Ethan sets down his mug. "I was thinking you could work from here."
I blink. "Here?"
"You'll need to make calls, coordinate with vendors. It's easier if you have space to spread out. Plus, I'll be around if you have questions."
"You don't have to work today?"
"I called and took the week off. There was only one surgery scheduled that I’ll need to run in for. Otherwise, it was a slow week anyway and one of my colleagues can do it."
"The whole week?"
"For the party," he pauses and looks me straight in the eyes. "And for you."
My heart does that stupid flip again.
"Ethan, that's not necessary. I can handle this on my own."
"I know you can. But I want to help." He steps closer. "Unless you'd prefer to work alone?"
I should say yes. I should create distance. Boundaries.
But the truth is, I don't want to.
"Okay," I hear myself say, and I’m pretty sure that once again my brain has separated from my physical body. "I'll stay."
His smile is warm and approving, and I feel it all the way to my toes. I like it. I like his approval, way more than I should like the approval of a man sixteen years older than me.
"Good. Why don’t you run home and pack a bag to stay for a few days and come back?" He suggests. I find myself nodding. I could use a shower and a change of clothes for sure.
The entire time I am at my place, I wonder if I’ve lost my mind completely. What am I doing? But, he feels safe. In my bones, I know Dr. Cross is anything but dangerous. That’s why, two hours later, I drove back through the gate and parked. I’ve barely rang the doorbell when he opens it.
"For a moment, I thought you might have changed your mind. Let me show you the office." He leads me down a hallway I didn't explore last night, past a library that makes my book-loving heart sing, and into a spacious office with floor-to-ceiling windows and a massive desk.
"You can use this," Ethan says. "The Wi-Fi password is on a sticky note by the computer. If you need to print anything, the printer is in the corner."
"This is... wow. Thank you."
"I'll be in the living room if you need me."
Once he's gone, I settle into the desk chair and pull out my laptop. Time to get to work.
First up: the necklace. I call the jeweler and confirm the design. They'll need the birthstone information by the end of the day to have it ready by Saturday.
I text Ethan.
Lily: I need birthstones for everyone. You, Claire, your brothers, your dad, and any grandkids.
His response comes almost immediately. He quickly shoots off everyone’s birthstones.
Ethan: I know my mom would love the option to add more birthstones for potential new grandkids in the future, if possible.
Lily: Perfect. What about your mom's stone?
Ethan: October. Opal.
I send the information to the jeweler, along with a request to leave space for future additions.
They confirm they can have it ready by Friday and will have a sketch for my approval in a few hours.
It’s costly to rush, but Ethan approves the amount without a moment’s hesitation.
I wonder exactly how much money this man has.
One gift down.
Next: the book.
I call the rare book shop Maya recommended. A man with a pleasantly gruff voice answers.
"Marcus here."
"Hi, Marcus. My name is Lily Preston. Maya gave me your number. I'm looking for a first edition of Pride and Prejudice."
"For yourself?"
"A gift."
"Budget?"
I hesitate. "What's the range?"
"For a true first? You're looking at anywhere from five to fifteen thousand, depending on condition."
I nearly drop the phone.
"That's... a lot."
"It's Austen," Marcus says, like that explains everything. "But I might have something for you. Come by this afternoon. I'll show you what I've got."
"Thank you. I'll be there."
I hang up and stare at my notes.
Fifteen thousand dollars. For a book.
This is insane.
But also kind of amazing. I can’t fathom what it would be like to create a piece of art that would be worth that much money.
I spend the next hour coordinating with caterers and florists, and by the time I finish, my brain feels like mush.
After speaking with a local bakery about a birthday cake display and deciding to go with two smaller cakes and a dessert table full of cupcakes, cookies, fresh fruits and truffles, I stand and stretch. I need a break.
I wander out of the office and find Ethan in the living room, reading a medical journal.
"How's it going?" he asks, setting the journal aside.
"Good. The necklace is on track. And I have a lead on the book."
"That was fast."
"I'm motivated." I sink into the chair across from him. "But I need to run something by you."
"Go ahead."
"The book. A first edition of Pride and Prejudice is expensive. Like, really expensive."
"How expensive?"
"Five to fifteen thousand."
Ethan doesn't even blink. "Okay."
"Okay?"
"Lily, I told you money isn't an issue. If that's what it costs, that's what it costs."
"But that's insane."
"Why?" He tilts his head. "It's meaningful. It's rare. And it's something Claire will treasure forever. She’ll leave it to one of her children and it’ll become a family heirloom. That's worth the cost."
I don't know what to say to that.
"You're not used to people spending money on things that matter, are you?" he says quietly.
"I... no. I guess not."
"Well, get used to it." His gaze holds mine. "You matter, Lily. And I'm not going to apologize for valuing you, either."
My throat tightens. I don’t know what to say and so I say nothing at all.
He stands. "Now, let's take a break. Have you eaten?"
"Not since the coffee."
"Unacceptable. Come on."
He leads me back to the kitchen and starts pulling ingredients from the fridge. Eggs. Cheese. Vegetables.
"You're making me breakfast?"
"Technically, it's brunch. But yes."
I watch him crack eggs into a bowl with the same precision he probably uses at work.
"Can I help?"
"Can you chop vegetables without losing a finger?"
"I’ve managed this far in life." I hold up my fingers and wiggle them around. He raises an eyebrow and smiles at me before answering.
"Then yes."
He hands me a knife and a cutting board, and we work side by side in comfortable silence.
It's domestic. And I'm acutely aware of every time our arms brush.
"Can I ask you something?" I say.
"Always."
"Why did you become a doctor?"
"My father." Ethan doesn't look up from the eggs. "He had an undiagnosed heart condition. The doctors did everything they could, but it wasn't enough. I remember thinking, if I'd known more, maybe I could have helped. Maybe I could have saved him."
"You were twelve."
"I know. But that's how a twelve-year-old thinks." He pours the eggs into a pan. "I wanted to be the person who could save people. Who could fix things."
"Do you ever regret it?"
"Sometimes. The hours are brutal. The pressure is constant. And no matter how good you are, you can't save everyone." He glances at me. "But when we can save someone? When I see them walk out of the hospital and go back to their lives? That makes it worth it."
"You're a good man, Ethan Cross."
His smile is soft. "I try. I try to make my parents proud."