Chapter 13
Okay, so I’d seen Ethan in a suit and tie dozens of times. It was his default outfit. And I loved a sharp-dressed man as much as the next gal. But no offense to ZZ Top, the times I’d really felt a ping toward Ethan, he’d been in casual clothes. Sweats, an old wrinkled tee, a good pair of jeans.
But holy cow, did the man look good when he dressed for a date.
Ethan greeted me with a soft peck on my cheek. He was dressed in slacks and a button-up shirt. Exactly what I’d expected him to wear.
But for some reason, it fit differently.
Maybe because this wasn’t the kind of shirt that got hidden under a jacket.
It was one of those not-meant-to-be-tucked numbers.
The soft shade of blue, almost teasing into gray tones, had a slight sheen that was definitely not lawyerly.
The buttons, the underside of the collar, and the cuffs were a darker navy, with a cool pattern of diamonds.
I was pretty sure there was a name for that pattern, but no amount of torture would have brought it to mind.
This was a casual-formal blend that, for Ethan, worked. It really, really worked.
“You’re a really attractive man.” As far as blurting things out goes, that was … not my best moment. Luckily Ethan, who was already way used to my nonsense, only chuckled.
“You’re a beautiful woman,” he replied, handing me the roses I’d only just noticed. “And you look great.”
“What, this old thing?” I gestured for him to come all the way in, then disappeared into the kitchen in search of a vase.
Which, of course, Cecelia had waiting for me.
I put them in, sending her a thank you and knowing she’d cut the stems and do whatever else would keep them alive for more than two hours. My current record.
She’d placed a small sign beside the vase, and I giggled as I read it.
In the cookie of life, friends are the chocolate chips.
“Well, that just makes me want cookies.” I grabbed a light coat and met Ethan at the door. “I’m ready.”
“Good.” He ushered me out and around the side of the house. It was already reasonably dark, and in the distance I heard the rustle of feet on grass. I stopped and looked around. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I said. But the sensation of being watched crawled up the back of my neck. “Just thought I heard something.”
Ethan’s car was parked in front of the Magnolia, and I don’t know why, but it surprised me that he had one.
It made sense. After all, he drove to New Orleans nearly every day for work.
But my new life meant I rarely drove, which meant I rarely thought about cars.
I didn’t even have a parking spot, though I had no doubt Cecelia would create one if that changed.
But what surprised me even more was the car itself. I’d expected Ethan to drive some lush, sporty number, all black and tinted and sleek. Maybe a little flashy, but not in an overdramatic way.
I didn’t know cars, but even I recognized that this convertible was a classic.
It was long and sleek, with those fin thingies older luxury cars had.
The convertible top, which I very seriously doubted Ethan ever got to use in our muggy little oasis, was some kind of cloth number, a stark white that only made the blue of the car seem brighter.
And boy, was it the bluest of blue cars. Like the sky on a crisp, fresh day. Almost blindingly shiny. The freshly polished tires were rimmed in white, with deep silver hubcaps. Ethan opened the door for me with a proud smile.
The door creaked shut, giving me one second alone to take a deep, steadying breath. The interior smelled like Ethan. Like subtle, expensive cologne and leather polish. The light gray seats were worn but loved. I ran my hand over them, unsurprised that they were smooth as butter.
“It was my dad’s car. He gave it to me when I took over the family practice.” Ethan slid in beside me, pressing a button to start the engine. I’d expected a roar, but it purred to life with a soft hum instead.
“Quiet,” I said.
“I had it retrofitted with a hybrid engine.” He gave the dash an affectionate pat.
“Nice. Eco-friendly.” Apparently, I was One-Word Sally tonight. I could have asked how his dad was doing since he retired. I could have noted how wonderful the legacy of a car passed down through generations was.
But no. I’d gone with eco-friendly.
We fell into silence as he eased down the street and headed toward New Orleans. And it wasn’t the comfortable silence of two old friends. The radio wasn’t playing, and we weren’t talking. There was just empty air and nothing to fill it.
What was wrong with me? This was Ethan. I’d known him for the better part of thirty years.
But maybe that was it. I knew my friend Ethan from high school. And I knew the Ethan of today. But there was a wide gap of time where we hadn’t spoken at all. If this date was about getting to know the new versions of us and not relying on the past, that seemed like a good place to start.
But how do you ask someone to summarize thirty years of life experiences?
I studied Ethan’s profile, wondering where to start, admiring his jawline.
His strong nose and full lips. His skin was moisturized.
His coils shone, as if he’d spent hours conditioning them.
I could smell his aftershave. It was earthy, with a hint of spice.
Everything about him, the car, his work, all of it, sent the same message.
Ethan was a man who took care of himself.
He was thorough and grounded and didn’t mind spending time on something when it mattered.
And that was new information for me. Because the guy from high school had only cared about football.
The whole thing had this uncanniness to it, like I was spending time with a false version of someone I thought I knew.
This was crazy. I could just start with small talk.
I didn’t have to ask him about his divorces or his deepest, darkest secrets.
“So, how does it feel to be back in Treater’s Way after all this time?” The car had been too silent before, and my voice was too loud. He jumped, jolting the steering wheel. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m nervous.” He gave me a half-smile. “That’s weird, right?”
“Only because we both are.” We shared an ice-breaking laugh over our mutual awkwardness. I angled my body toward him. “Which is wild considering how long we’ve known each other.”
“Yeah.” He let out a breath. “It feels like eating apple pie again when you’ve been dining on Gentilly cake.”
“Huh?”
“Being back in Treater’s Way.” This time, his smile was easy. “One of them has more texture and flavor, but they’re both delicious. Just different.”
“Well, now I want dessert,” I said. This time, our joint laughs were less forced. “Do you crave one more than the other?”
“Just depends on the day. I’m still winding my practice down, so I still see plenty of New Orleans.” As if to prove it, he rounded the corner, and the city opened up before us. The lights of the Dome flashed purple, green, and gold, a reminder that Mardi Gras was just around the corner.
“Wow,” I said. “I forget what the city looks like at night.”
“Gentilly cake.” Ethan eased the massive car around the narrow streets like he’d threaded this needle a thousand times before. “You haven’t been back?”
“Not since last summer.” I swallowed down the lump in my throat that the memory formed. “I took a sort of ‘goodbye’ tour before I picked Gabe up from the airport.”
And what a goodbye tour it had been. I remembered those moments vividly. Under threat of losing the Magnolia and with my son arriving for our hopeful reconciliation, I’d taken a drive around town. Visiting my old office and the house I’d shared with my ex-husband had been quite the wake-up call.
I’d realized during that drive how much I’d changed in a short period of time. Not just my life, but the person living it. Not unlike Cupid, I had a before-and-after moment surrounding the end of my marriage.
“What did you say goodbye to?”
We pulled up to the incredibly fancy restaurant, and a well-dressed valet opened my door, extending his hand to help me out. Before I could take a step, Ethan took his place, charming me with his smile and linking his arm with mine.
I was no Cupid. And I was damn sure gonna be the best version of Simone.
“Me.” I nodded thank you as he opened the restaurant door for me. At his inquiring look, I clarified. “I said goodbye to the old Simone.”