14. Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fourteen
Paige blinked awake slowly, the soft hum of city life drifting through the cracked-open window like a gentle nudge. Early morning light bathed the office in a warm glow—golden rays cutting across bookshelves, the floor, her blanket-covered legs.
Wait. Is it morning? Am I still at Ethan’s?
A sharp jolt of panic hit her chest, and she shifted slightly, becoming aware of the plush rug beneath her as she realized two things—
One, she was still in Ethan’s office.Two, she was spooning Queenie, who was snoring like a tiny chainsaw.
Paige sighed, disoriented, but . . . peaceful.
She sank back against the pillow—where had that come from?
—and tugged Ethan’s hoodie tighter around her, curling her fingers instinctively into the sleeves.
It was warm, worn-in, and smelled like him.
Cedar. Spice. Something woodsy and adventurous.
A scent she wasn’t sure she could ever get enough of.
Paige smiled to herself.
She must’ve dozed off sometime between her third glass of wine and passionately debating the alien origins of the pyramids. She couldn’t remember who won. They’d have to pick that one up again later.
Around her, the room was still. The corner bookshelf was nearly empty, its contents strewn around the room in haphazard piles. A crumpled chip bag lay abandoned on the rug. The last time she looked at the clock it was almost two a.m. When was the last time she’d stayed up that late?
From somewhere toward the front of the condo came the faint clink of dishes. A few moments later, footsteps.
When Ethan appeared, carrying a serving tray, she abruptly propped herself up on an elbow, forgetting she was curled around a sleeping pup. Queenie woke, giving Paige a deeply offended side-eye. Paige offered a sheepish shrug, but the sight of Ethan required her full attention.
Standing in the doorway, bathed in soft morning light, his hair was rumpled in the most unfairly attractive way. His wrinkled T-shirt hung just so over his low-slung gray sweatpants. And the smile he gave her made her heart do something it absolutely should not do.
Was she dreaming?
“Morning,” he said, his voice low and scratchy, confirming he was real.
“Hey,” she replied, rubbing sleep from her eyes as she sat up. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to zonk out in your office.”
“Me, either.” He grinned and crouched beside her, balancing the full serving tray. “I haven’t slept on the floor since middle school slumber parties. I also didn’t realize how comfortable this rug is.”
“It really is.” Paige ran a hand over the plush pile, sitting with the knowledge that they’d slept here, in the office . . . together.
He set the serving tray on the floor and sat next to her. “I woke up at some point and got us pillows. Didn’t want to risk neck injuries.”
She gave him a grateful smile. “I appreciate that.” Paige ran a hand over the back of her neck and then her hair, combing through wild curls, hoping she didn’t look like a Brillo pad.
“I was going to order you a car service to take you home, but you looked so comfortable. And Queenie had clearly claimed you.” He nodded toward the pup, who had already curled up again, tucked tight against Paige’s thigh in a puppy donut.
“She’s an excellent little spoon.” Paige grinned at Queenie. “Which works, because I like being the big spoon.”
“Good to know,” Ethan replied, catching her off guard. Her gaze jerked to his, and heat crept through her chest as she pictured cuddling with Ethan. And how much she’d like that. She might even allow him to be the big spoon. Maybe.
Clearing his throat, Ethan angled the tray toward her. “I wasn’t sure what you liked in the morning . . . so I made a few options. Coffee. A latte. Hot water, in case you wanted tea.”
Paige blinked at the offering. Steaming mugs, set alongside a pot of cream and sugar, and a row of tea bags neatly lined up. “That’s so thoughtful.”
“In the morning, I’m a coffee with cream and sugar guy,” he said, and she mentally took note.
“I usually am, too, but that latte looks delicious.”
“Handmade. Barista Ethan at your service.” He offered her the mug and their fingers brushed. The spark was immediate. Warm. Familiar. “I hope you like it.”
“Thanks,” she murmured, curling her hands around the mug, letting the warmth seep into her fingers. She took a sip, closing her eyes for a beat, savoring the sweet foam. She licked her lips, and when she opened her eyes, Ethan was watching her.
“Good?” he asked.
“Perfect.” She pressed her lips together, and his gaze dipped to the hoodie which hung on her frame. He smiled faintly.
“Looks better on you than it ever did on me.”
Paige took another sip to hide her blush. Also to stop the irrational urge to ask if she could keep it. Maybe she could sleep in it every night?
They sat in silence for a long moment, soft and sweet, before Ethan took a sip of his coffee and glanced toward the window. “Beautiful sunrise this morning.”
“I need a better look,” she said, rising to her feet and stretching.
Ethan stood with her. Queenie gave a disgruntled snort, but didn’t follow as they crossed the room to the tall window on the opposite side of his desk.
Outside, the city was stirring—trains clattering in the distance, early risers heading to work, the sky painted with streaks of pink and tangerine. From here, buildings and rooftops stretched in every direction, steel and glass catching the light, reflecting the morning like it was made of gold.
“Wow,” Paige breathed, taking it all in, including the beautifully rumpled man standing beside her. This was . . . nice.
But then something else caught her eye and made her breath hitch.
Just a few blocks away, the familiar silhouette of the Harold Washington Library stood out from the skyline, along with its distinctive mint-green roof.
Paige was no stranger to the library, but from this angle, in this light—it looked different.
The glass dome atop the building caught the rising sun, glowing like a lantern in the dawn.
A dome that catches light.
“Oh my gosh,” she whispered, as a piece of the riddle clicked into place.
Ethan glanced at her. “What?”
She pointed. “The library. The dome. That could be it.”
He followed her gaze, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Beneath the dome that catches light . . .”
Her heartbeat quickened—maybe it was the view, the clue, or even the caffeine.
But Paige was pretty sure it had more to do with how Ethan was looking at her, taking her in.
He scanned her with a slow, growing smile.
Like he knew she was right. Like he was in awe of her.
And suddenly Paige wasn’t thinking about the riddle or domes or, frankly, anything but Ethan.
She grinned back at him.
This was so easy. Being here with him. What would it be like to wake up like this every morning—with coffee, and wrapped in his warm sweatshirt? With someone who looked at her like she mattered?
In what alternate universe could this be real?
The scent of basil and garlic wrapped around Paige like a hug as she smoothed the red-and-white-checkered tablecloth covering the table at the front of Gigi’s market tent.
Alice helped her situate it just perfectly and then added mason jars for silverware and napkins.
At the back of the booth, Gigi and her boyfriend, Harris, were unloading crates of pre-made pasta dinners, placing them into coolers.
It was a beautiful day to be outside. Around them, the Saturday morning buzz of the farmer’s market was in full swing—fresh-cut flowers, golden sun hitting rows of produce, and a hundred conversations layered over each other like Gigi’s delicious lasagna.
The scent of sun-warmed tomatoes drifted over from the next stall, mingling with the sweetness of kettle corn and powdered funnel cakes.
“How much more did you make than last week?” Alice asked Gigi, as she filled the mason jars with plastic silverware.
“Twenty percent more spaghetti,” Gigi said, opening another cooler as Harris unloaded a crate from the dolly. “And thirty percent more cannoli.”
“I still think you’ll sell out,” Harris said, flashing her a warm smile. “Everyone raved about both last weekend. You sold out by noon.”
Gigi gave a satisfied shrug and smiled back. “Then I’ll be done early, and I’ll have more time to get ready for dinner. You sure I can’t bring anything? You know I’d love to.”
Harris shook his head. “Dean is grilling, Dad’s bringing the wine, and I’m making a charcuterie board.”
Gigi went up on her toes and kissed Harris on the cheek. “Can’t wait. We’re leaving for your brother’s at five?”
“Yep. We’ll pick up Nonna on the way,” Harris replied, referring to Gigi’s grandma. Then he unloaded the last carton before taking hold of Gigi’s waist and pulling her to him for a kiss that almost made Paige blush.
“You two are disgustingly cute,” Paige said, teasing. They pulled back from their kiss and smirked at her.
Gigi and Harris were perfect for each other. And Paige loved that Gigi and her grandma had become so close to Harris’s family. She was happy for her friend, and wouldn’t be surprised if Harris got down on a knee before the end of the year. Actually, she hoped he would.
“You sure you don’t need me to stay and help?” Harris asked Gigi, reluctantly letting her go.
Gigi shooed him off. “No, go. I’ve got plenty of help. Go, watch your nephew’s baseball game, and make sure he knows I’ll be at the next one.”
“Will do.” Harris waved to Paige and Alice. “Call me if you guys need anything.”
Paige waved back. When Harris turned to leave, she climbed up onto the step stool and hung Gigi’s wooden sign on the front of the tent.
It was hand-painted with her business name, “From Nonna, With Love,” and slogan, “Handmade. Heart-filled. Nonna-approved.” Noodles, a wooden spoon, and an Italian flag surrounded the words.
Once Paige had the sign hanging from the metal hooks, she stepped down and admired the booth.