Chapter 16 Ethan
Ethan
“Capri pants, Ethan! Can you believe that?” Joan, the head of our clothing division, practically yells into the phone.
Having no idea what capri pants are, I’m not sure if I believe this or not. All I know is that Joan sounds displeased.
“And that’s… bad?” I ask.
“It’s very bad. No one wears capri pants anymore! How am I supposed to sell through ten gaylords of them?!”
I have no idea what this problem is or how to solve it.
When we hired Joan, I made it clear that I wanted to be more involved with the clothing division.
The last department head took our brand in the wrong direction, and I wanted to make sure that the problem was fixed.
Now that it is, I hoped that Joan would take the reins instead of calling me every time the smallest issue arises.
I drop my head to my hand and pinch the bridge of my nose while she carries on about inseam lengths in more detail than I ever cared to know.
“If the order’s wrong, can’t we just return it?” I ask, somewhat impatiently.
“We could have, but receiving signed for the order without checking it first and now we’re stuck with them.”
Joan launches into another tirade, giving me a play-by-play of her email exchange with the supplier. I sigh silently, leaning back in my chair. My eyes drift over the top of my computer, past my glass office wall where Margot is sitting at her desk.
She’s wearing a mustard yellow sweater today with a knee-length plaid skirt and a pair of boots. Her hair is pulled up into a tidy bun on top of her head. A few loose tendrils of hair frame her face.
The memory of her hair against my fingertips when I brushed it back from her face the other night invades my brain. Kissing her was supposed to be revenge for her ex’s mistakes, but it’s me who’s suffering with the knowledge of her soft lips and sweet taste.
I didn’t expect sparks.
I didn’t expect to still be thinking about that kiss as I laid in my bed that night.
I have no idea if Margot felt it, too, but one thing is clear: it can’t happen again.
Joan is explaining restocking fees to me when I finally interrupt. “I’ll take care of it. Just send me the original order and the email chain with the supplier.”
We hang up, and I try to get back to work. I fail spectacularly. My eyes keep roaming towards Margot. Things have been a little tense between us all week. It’s clear that both of us are having mixed feelings about that kiss, and I don’t think we’ll fully recover until we talk about it.
Reaching for my phone again, I tap the button for Margot’s extension and watch as she picks up the receiver.
“Can you come in here for a minute?” I ask.
“Sure, I’ll be right there.”
A few seconds later, Margot is walking into my office. She closes the door behind her out of habit then takes a seat across from me. Her green eyes hold mine across the desk, waiting for me to speak.
“Do you know what capri pants are?” I blurt out. Why? I have no idea. I’m already well past my capacity for talking about capri pants today.
Her eyebrows pull together. “They’re just shorter pants, aren’t they?”
“Maybe. I’m not really sure.” Surely, this is something I could just Google if I actually cared. “Apparently, there’s some problem in the women’s clothing division with them.”
“Okay,” Margot nods slowly. “Do you need me to take care of it?”
As tempting as it is to say yes, Margot’s far too busy and too valuable to waste her time dealing with this pants debacle. I’ll just call the supplier later and figure it out.
I shake my head. “No, that’s not actually why I asked you to come in here.”
Margot stares at me expectantly. My gaze drops to her lips, where a layer of gloss shimmers under the fluorescent lights. The urge to swipe my finger over her bottom lip wells up inside me.
Which absolutely cannot happen.
“I think we should talk about Friday night,” I tell her.
“Okay,” she says, stretching the word out.
“Specifically, about the kiss.”
Margot adjusts in her seat. “Sure,” she agrees softly, “of course.”
The words I recited in my head just a few minutes ago have mysteriously vanished from my brain.
This situation is entirely foreign to me.
I have a strict policy against dating women who I work with, but now I’ve gone and kissed my most valuable employee.
It was my mistake. I never should have suggested it.
But Margot deserves better than the generic I’m not looking for anything serious speech I usually give to women.
Across the desk, Margot is waiting patiently but nervously. Each silent second that ticks by feels longer than the last.
“I just want to clear the air,” I finally say. “That kiss was meant as revenge on your ex, but I didn’t consider how it might affect our professional relationship.”
Margot shakes her head. Her words are laced with soft, nervous laughter. “Ethan, it’s fine, I promise. We can just forget it ever happened.”
“That’s not…” I start. “I don’t think we need to go that far. I mean, it was a pretty great kiss. I’m not sure I could forget it if I tried.”
A blush rises in Margot’s cheeks. “It was.”
We both stare at each other for a few long seconds.
She rolls her lips together, suppressing her smile.
It’s the same look she gives me when there’s an inside joke begging to be told, but she has to hold it in because there are other people around.
Maybe one day that kiss will become another inside joke of ours, but probably not any day soon.
In the meantime, this is the best outcome I could hope for. Margot seems willing to put the kiss behind us and move on. She’s not holding a grudge, or worse, holding onto any false hope for something I can’t give her.
“But it probably shouldn’t happen again,” I add, my smile dimming.
“Right, of course not,” she agrees. “From now on, we’ll keep our lips to ourselves.”
The smiles we exchange across the desk are a little tighter than normal, but the silence starts to feel comfortable again. We’re on the same page about this, and that’s the best I could ask for in this situation.
“Big plans for your birthday this weekend?” I ask, trying to change the subject.
Margot shifts in her chair, looking more uncomfortable than ever.
I’m not sure how that’s possible, given our previous conversation.
She casts her eyes down to her lap, where she fidgets with the silver ring on her finger.
“I have this birthday tradition,” Margot says, “It’s probably going to sound sort of weird and childish, but I always go to a theme park on my birthday.
I don’t know though… I might sit this year out. ”
A melancholy look passes over her face, brief but unmistakable. The corners of her mouth drop, as if pulled downward by the weight of some unspoken words. Her lashes flutter, blinking away the unwanted emotion. Then it’s gone, just as quickly as it came. She looks up at me with a restrained smile.
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what’s bothering her. She just broke up with her long-term boyfriend, and her best friend is thousands of miles away. She’s planning on spending her birthday alone.
I’m fully prepared to object and offer the obvious solution when I catch a glimpse of the clock on my computer. Cursing under my breath, I pull the top drawer of my desk open, grabbing my phone and my keys.
“Sorry,” I rush to say. “I’m supposed to meet Rachel and Sophia for lunch in a few minutes.” If I leave now, I’ll still make it on time.
Margot rises from the chair. “No problem.”
“We’ll finish this conversation later, okay?”
She nods, smiles, and tells me to hurry up.
Relief courses through me, despite the fact that I’m practically sprinting to the stairwell and flying down the steps two at a time.
Margot and I are going to be okay. Kissing her wasn’t my greatest idea (though it felt like it at the time), but I can’t bring myself to take it back.
Now, I just need to make sure we can move on from it.
Thankfully, we seem to be on the same page.
The bistro is a block away. I check my phone as I step inside, relieved to find that I’m right on time. Glancing around the restaurant, I see Rachel and Sophia already seated at a table near the back. Rachel looks up and waves at me as I make my way over.
“Hey,” I say to Rachel, a little breathless.
“Hi.”
She pops up automatically like she’s going to give me a hug then second guesses herself.
My first instinct is to take a step backwards, unintentionally making things even worse.
Neither of us knows what to do. Maybe one day we’ll get better at this.
Maybe one day it won’t feel so awkward. In the meantime, we settle on a weird half-hug where she pats my arm, and I pat her shoulder.
Sophia has wide eyes and a shy smile as she looks up at me.
“Hi Sophia.”
“Hi.” It’s more a squeak than a word.
As I’m settling in at the table, Rachel leans over to Sophia. “Do you want to show Uncle Ethan what you made for him?”
Sophia nods, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
“Go ahead,” Rachel encourages.
Sophia stands up, clutching a piece of light pink construction paper in her hands. She takes a few steps around the table, stopping right beside me then holding the paper out for me to grab.
“Wow! What’s this?” I ask, smiling down at what appears to be a green circle and some protruding lines. A wreath, maybe? Or some sort of spider?
“It’s a turtle I saw at the zoo,” she tells me proudly. “His name is Walter.”
“You went to the zoo?” I ask enthusiastically.
Sophia nods. “For a field trip. Mommy was the shampoo.”
“Chaperone,” Rachel corrects with a tiny laugh. We exchange a quick look and a half-smile over Sophia’s head.
Turning my attention back to Sophia, I smile broadly. “That sounds so fun. Will you tell me more about it?”
Sophia nods again, and I spend the rest of my lunch hour listening to Sophia talk excitedly about turtles, monkeys, and her thoughts on slushies. We agree that wild cherry is superior to blue raspberry, and that kettle corn is better than regular popcorn.
When lunch is over, we stand to leave, and something small touches my hand. I glance down to find Sophia slipping her hand into mine. She smiles up at me, and my heart expands in my chest. A calm settles over me, steady and grounding.
Ever since Rachel moved back to town, I’ve been second-guessing myself, unsure how to shift from father figure to stranger to uncle.
After our first encounter at the house that morning, I worried this might be harder than I expected—that I wouldn’t quite know where I fit when it came to Sophia.
But a few short weeks later, the pieces are already clicking into place.
Being her uncle feels natural. Easy. The way it was always supposed to be.
Everything in my life is finally settling into place.
Except for the part where I kissed my assistant, and now I can’t get her out of my head.