Chapter 12 Ethan
Ethan
Memories of the weekend haunt me, playing on repeat in my head while I stare blankly at my computer on Monday morning.
Sophia’s tiny voice echoes so convincingly in my mind that I occasionally look up expecting to see her there, rushing over to greet me again.
Mistaking me for my brother, the man she now calls her father.
I was prepared for Sophia not to remember me. It’s been years since she’s seen me, and she was so young back then. I had braced myself for her to forget. Convinced myself it wasn’t just a possibility, it was inevitable.
Then she called me daddy.
Deep down, I knew the words weren’t really meant for me.
The excitement on her face belonged to someone else.
But for the briefest moment, I let myself believe otherwise.
It was like seeing the first ray of sunlight after a bad storm, and I let myself bask in it.
I let it thaw an icy part of my heart. A moment later, when Sophia realized her mistake and retreated, that freshy thawed piece of my heart was too tender and raw to take the pain.
I hate that our first interaction in years was marred by my emotional outburst. I hate that Sophia was finally standing right in front of me, and the first thing I did was rush out of the room. This is supposed to be the start of a new chapter, so why does it feel so painfully familiar?
When I returned, Rachel apologized. “You and Sy look a lot alike. She’s asked about her dad a few times, so I’ve shown her some photos.”
Sy—her nickname for my brother.
Of the three North brothers, Silas and I look the most alike… at least when he’s not on a bender of his current drug of choice.
After that first encounter, the rest of the morning went as well as I could have hoped.
Despite the long absence from ech other’s lives, there are no lingering feelings, good or bad, between Rachel and me.
It was sort of like running into a distant relative you barely recognize at the grocery store.
Slightly awkward, overly polite, and curiously unremarkable.
Any apprehension I felt over being back in each other’s lives faded away the moment I saw her and confirmed what I already knew: that I think of her like a sister-in-law now. Nothing more and nothing less.
Sophia quickly got over mistaking me for Silas and was excited to see her new bedroom. The penguin bedding was a big hit. She already named the stuffed animal French Fry for reasons that I don’t quite understand.
I’ve wanted to tell Margot that all morning, but my first words to her after that almost-kiss can’t be: The penguin is named French Fry.
Technically, I guess my first words to her after the almost-kiss were please leave, which is infinitely worse.
We haven’t spoken all morning. We need to talk about what happened, but I’m not sure what to say. Worse, I’m not sure it should be said here at work. I crossed a line by almost kissing her, and I need to tell her it was a mistake. But first, I need to convince myself that’s true.
Margot rounds the corner clutching a fresh cup of coffee. She turns toward my office briefly as she takes a seat at her desk, but her eyes stay locked on the steaming cup. I watch her through the huge pane of glass, raking a hand through my hair and blowing out a deep breath.
The only thing worse than having that conversation at the office is enduring eight hours of awkward silence.
Margot and I have never gone a full workday without talking.
I don’t even know what that would look like.
All I know is that I can’t let this ruin everything between us.
Now more than ever, I need Margot in my life.
Our friendship has changed over the past few weeks, quickly becoming something I rely on.
With other aspects of my life changing, I need the comfort and stability of my friendship with her.
And I think she might need it, too.
Reaching for the phone, I tap Margot’s extension. On the opposite side of the glass wall, the phone rings, pulling her attention away from her computer. There’s a beat of hesitation before she answers.
“Do you have a minute to talk in my office?”
“Of course.” She agrees quickly but stands slowly.
We have a lot of private meetings in here. So far, none of them have been about the two of us falling asleep in the same bed and waking up cuddling. That’s about to change, and it makes me nervous.
Margot appears in the doorway a minute later with a notebook and pen clutched in one hand. Maybe it’s out of habit, maybe it’s out of hope that this meeting is actually about work.
She closes the door behind her then takes a seat in one of the gray chairs on the opposite side of my desk.
“I figured we should talk.” Although, I now realize that I have no idea what I’m planning to say. Stalling, I add, “About Saturday morning…”
She nods lightly, my words confirming what she already expected.
The air thickens instantly. She crosses her arms lightly over her waist, not defensively, but like she just needs something to do with her hands.
I clear my throat. “I want to apologize.”
“That’s not necessary,” she rushes to say.
“It is,” I insist. “My relationship with my brother and his family is complicated. Seeing them again dredged up some unexpected emotions, and I didn’t handle it very well. Asking you to leave like that, I know it must’ve felt… abrupt. Maybe even harsh. That wasn’t my intention.”
She exhales, her gaze flicking down to the notebook on her lap before returning to me. “I figured you needed some space.”
“I did, but that doesn’t excuse how poorly I handled it, especially after…” I stop myself, but the unspoken words still hang in the air.
Color rises in Margot’s cheeks, and she shifts slightly in her seat. “It’s fine, Ethan. I didn’t take it personally.”
A reassuring smile graces her lips, but her expression falters, just for a second. Something fragile and uncertain flashes in her eyes, and I hate that I’m the one who put it there.
“And trust me,” she continues with a faint laugh, “I’m not here to judge anyone for an emotional outburst. At least you didn’t get drunk and try to fight an office plant.”
The joke lands, but our laughs are thinner than usual. I smile anyway, grateful for the lifeline. For a second, it feels like we’re almost back to normal.
“Thank you for understanding,” I say quietly.
“No problem.” Her tone echoes mine.
Our eyes connect over the desk, holding each other’s gaze for a few long beats.
“I should probably get back to work,” Margot says, motioning towards the door. “Unless there was something else you wanted to talk about?”
I shake my head. “No, that’s all. Just wanted to clear the air and make sure we’re all good.”
“We’re good.” Margot gives me a small smile before standing, smoothing her skirt, and slipping out of my office.
The click of the office door behind her punctuates the end of the conversation. I lean back in my chair, letting out a long breath. We avoided the topic that mattered most: the near-kiss.
I know exactly what I should’ve said: It was a mistake. It won’t happen again. But when I looked at Margot, the words lodged in my throat like broken glass. It can’t happen again.
And that’s the only part I regret.