Chapter 05
handsome, attentive, and charming
Cecily
I knock and wait for his “come in” before opening the door. The moment I step inside, he quickly closes the browser tab. But not fast enough for me to miss the glimpse of a girl’s picture on the screen.
I bite back a smile.
“Who’s she?” I ask, keeping my tone light, pretending not to be curious.
“No one!” Ethan blurts, opening a new tab with a page about urban landscape drawing. I see.
“Well, No One happens to have such lovely brown eyes and really beautiful wavy hair,” I say, biting the inside of my cheek to hide a grin.
“Mom.” He groans, dragging out the word like it physically pains him.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me,” I reply gently. “Just remember the conversation we had a few years ago... and again last year, okay?”
Colin was supposed to have the big talk with him when he turned thirteen—about sex, boundaries, and responsibility without sugarcoating it—but there was always another deal, another acquisition, something that pulled him back into the company.
So I had to put on my big-girl panties and do it myself—trying my best to keep going even as Ethan seemed mortified at having to listen to me, while reminding myself that sex is something natural, healthy, and part of life.
My job is to prepare my kids, to make sure they don’t make mistakes or put their health, or someone else’s, at risk.
I move to the upholstered chest at the foot of his bed and sit, turning to face him. Everything in his room is new, except for the electronics.
Alicia was the only one who wanted to bring every little piece from her old bedroom into our new home. Ethan, like me, preferred a clean slate.
“You’re not about to give me the birds and the bees talk again, are you?” he asks, looking horrified by the idea.
I narrow my eyes at him, playfully. “When I did have that talk with you, you were already too old for the fairy-tale version, mister. But if you’d like me to go over it again...”
He groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Mom, seriously, you don’t have to. I know I need to be careful, and I can look things up online if I ever have questions.” He pauses, then adds quickly, “Not that I’m doing anything—I just mean, it’s good to be informed. She’s just a girl from my class…”
Then he starts rambling. I don’t think I’ve seen him ramble like this since he stopped being a little boy. This girl is definitely not just a friend. Or she won’t be for long.
“I know, sweetheart,” I say softly. “I trust you, to take care of yourself, and to take care of whoever’s lucky enough to be with you.”
I reach out and squeeze his arm.
To spare him the torture of having his mother meddle in his personal life any longer, I shift the subject to what brought me here in the first place. “You know your father will be here tomorrow, don’t you?”
Alicia eventually decided she wanted to celebrate at home—just a small gathering with a few close friends from her new school. Sophia, her best friend, the one she’s stayed close to even after changing schools and houses, will be coming too.
It’ll be a simple afternoon: pizzas, laughter, and colorful mocktails by the pool. All I had to do was call her favorite pizzeria and the bakery we always choose to order her Peaches and Cream Layer Cake—her favorite.
Mark offered to set up a little bar by the grill, claiming he’d be reliving his college days as a bartender mixing mocktails for the kids.
Colin asked to talk yesterday when he dropped Alicia off after taking her to the movies with her friends. Once again, he didn’t want to come inside, so we talked on the porch.
He told me Alicia had invited him and asked if it was all right for him to come on Sunday. I was caught off guard. Alicia hadn’t mentioned a word, and her birthday was only two days away. So I was honest with him. It’s her party. He’s her father. If she wanted him here, of course he could come.
Then he surprised me again. He offered to arrive early and help with whatever needed to be done. Colin has never been the hands-on type; he’s always preferred to pay someone to take care of things. “My work uses my brain, not my hands,” he used to say.
I told him it wasn’t necessary, Alicia didn’t want decorations or anything fancy, just something simple. But he insisted. And for Alicia, for Ethan... I agreed. Maybe it would do them both good to see their father making an effort, even a small one.
“I know,” Ethan says now, his jaw tight. “I just don’t understand why Alicia had to invite him.”
“Because it’s her birthday, and she wants her father here with her on her day.”
He lets out a bitter scoff. “Father. A real father wouldn’t have done what he did to our family.”
I want to agree, because the man I once believed him to be would never have done those things. But I can’t. Not if I truly want to move forward. Not if I want to stop letting old wounds decide the shape of the present.
“I understand how you feel. And I won’t tell you or your sister how to feel. Just please don’t do that to her, either.”
“Yeah. I know.” His voice hardens, his gaze shifting toward the bookshelf behind me. “I just... don’t want to see him.”
“You should talk to Alan about that,” I suggest carefully. “Maybe even talk to your father during one of your sessions whenever you’re ready. Alan could help you—”
“Mom, no.” He shakes his head, his tone hard. “I don’t want to talk to him. Ever again.”
I exhale. “Ever is a long time, sweetheart. You’re only seventeen.”
He looks at me then, and the hurt in his eyes makes my chest ache. “Please don’t ask me that, Mom. I love you, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. But don’t ask me to do that.”
I get up and perch on the edge of his desk.
“I will never force you to talk to your father, Ethan. You and Alicia are the most important people in my life. And I’d never ask you to compromise your own feelings.”
I rest my hand on his shoulder.
“I’m not saying this for your father’s sake—I’m saying it for yours. I’m worried about you. Keeping all that pain and anger locked inside will only turn into bitterness. And hurt people always end up hurting others.”
Ethan looks up at me with a sad smile. “I know, Mom.”
“Take the time you need. And if you ever need help, you know you can always come to me. And you have Alan too.”
I bend down to kiss his forehead. “Just don’t let those feelings eat you alive.”
I give his shoulder one last squeeze before walking out the door, letting him sit with his thoughts.
“What’s that?” Mark asks.
“My parents sent it to Alicia. It just arrived,” I answer, my gaze fixed on the pink gift box with its deep rose ribbon, and I can’t help the way my mind goes back to another box.
Mark rests his elbows on the other side of the island, watching. “They’re still in Florida?”
I nod. My mother texted me a few weeks after I last saw them in February, saying they’d spend a month down there. My father reached out last month. I declined the call and replied with a single message: Nothing’s changed.
Apparently, a month turned into an entire season, judging by the post I saw on my mother’s Facebook last week, a photo of palm trees and sunlight at Harry P. Leu Gardens.
“What are you going to do with the box?” Mark asks.
I open my mouth, but before I can answer, Alicia walks into the kitchen. Her eyes land on the box and she beams.
“For me?” she says, already pulling it toward her and reading the card. “Oh, it’s from Grandma Ellen and Grandpa Philip. I thought they weren’t going to send anything since you’re not talking.”
“Yeah,” I say, simply.
They know I’m keeping my distance, but I haven’t shared the details. I don’t care if others judge me for it. After everything they’ve been through, the least I can do is shield them from this.
Ethan could tell there was more to it than just an argument, but he didn’t push. Alicia only said she hoped things would work themselves out once they got back from their trip.
She opens the box eagerly, but her excitement doesn’t last.
Inside are three journals and a small mountain of stationery and pens, things she would’ve adored just a few months ago.
“Oh,” she murmurs, trying to mask her disappointment. “I guess they don’t know I don’t really use this stuff anymore.”
I nod, even though she’s not looking at me.
“Is it okay if I give them to Khara’s little sister? She loves journaling. I gave her some of my stickers once, and she was so happy.”
“Of course, sweetheart. Go ahead. What matters is that someone who loves it will use it.”
“Good!” she says, closing the lid. “I’ll leave it in the living room so I can give it to her later.”
She leaves as quickly as she came, now carrying the box with her.
When I turn back, Mark’s eyes are fixed on me.
“I know,” he says, as if he’s read every thought written across my face.
My phone rings, and the moment I see his name, I can’t help but smile.
“Aaaw, our favorite Italian,” Mark teases. “I’ll leave you two alone to gush over old books.”
I wave him off, trying to hide my smile, but I can’t stop the warmth that spreads through me as I answer. “Is it good morning, afternoon, or night where you are?”
“I’m back in Europe, so it’s good afternoon for at least two more hours,” he replies, his accent slipping in, making my pulse stutter. “Currently in Barcelona, but by tomorrow I’ll be home.”
I lean on the edge of the sink, my eyes on the backyard while my mind wanders miles away.
“How did things go in Beijing?” I ask belatedly.
“Almost done. The deal’s practically closed. But I don’t want to bore you with business talk.” His tone lowers. “Actually, I called to congratulate you for today. Alicia’s day is also yours, you know.”
“Thank you. It’s hard to believe my little girl is thirteen.”