Chapter 7 #2
Their words settle over me like a balm.
I choose this.
I choose him.
I choose us.
When Ethan returns, he's changed into dark slacks and a crisp white button-down that makes my mouth go dry.
"Better?" he asks, nodding at the empty plate.
"Much. Thank you."
"You're welcome." He offers his hand. "Come on. Let's get you changed before everyone arrives."
"Changed?"
"You didn't think I'd let you host this party in yesterday's clothes, did you?"
Heat creeps up my neck. "I didn't bring anything else."
"I know. So I took the liberty of getting you something." He leads me upstairs to the guest room I've been using.
Laid out on the bed is a dress. Soft lavender fabric that looks like it cost more than my car.
"Ethan..."
"Before you argue, know that this is both a thank you gift and a completely selfish request." His arms come around me from behind. "I want to see you in something beautiful. Something that makes you feel as incredible as you are."
I turn in his arms. "You didn't have to do this."
"I know. I wanted to." His fingers tilt my chin up. "Will you wear it? For me?"
The question is phrased as a request, but there's an expectation underneath it. A gentle command.
"Yes," I whisper.
"Good girl." He presses a kiss to my forehead. "I'll give you privacy to change. Come down when you're ready."
Once he's gone, I examine the dress more closely. It's stunning. Simple but elegant. It’s the kind of dress that would make anyone feel beautiful.
I slip it on, and it fits perfectly.
Of course it does.
I look at myself in the mirror and barely recognize the woman staring back. She looks confident. Sophisticated. Like she belongs in a house like this. Among this level of money and class. The soft material caresses my shoulders and I think for a second, I can do this, I belong.
Like she belongs with a man like Ethan.
I make my way downstairs just as the doorbell rings.
Ethan opens it to reveal an older woman with kind eyes and salt-and-pepper hair pulled back in an elegant bun. Behind her is a younger woman with Ethan's same sharp cheekbones and intelligent gaze.
"Happy birthday, Mom. Happy birthday, Claire." Ethan pulls them both into a hug.
"Ethan, darling, you didn't have to—" His mother stops mid-sentence when she spots me on the stairs. "Oh. Who's this?"
I descend the rest of the stairs, suddenly nervous.
"Mom, Claire, this is Lily Preston." Ethan's hand finds mine, squeezing gently. "She's the miracle worker who made tonight possible."
"You're the personal shopper," Claire says, her eyes sharp with interest.
Personal shopper.
The words sting briefly. What did I expect him to say to his mother and sister? Girlfriend? I’m not his girlfriend.
"I am. It's so nice to meet you both."
Diane takes both my hands in hers, studying me with a mother's keen perception. "Aren't you lovely. And this dress looks fantastic on you. Ethan has excellent taste." How? How could she possibly know Ethan picked it out? Do I deny it? Ask her what she means?
"He does," I agree, meeting his eyes.
The doorbell rings again, and soon the house fills with family. Ethan’s siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles. All warm and welcoming and exactly the kind of chaos I imagine Ethan grew up with.
I should feel out of place. They are all strangers.
Instead, I feel like I'm home.
Throughout the evening, Ethan stays close by my side. His hand on my back as we move through the party. His quiet "you're doing great" when I start to look overwhelmed. His steady presence that grounds me.
And when dinner is served, when the food is perfect and the conversation flows and I see Diane and Claire laughing with pure joy, something in my chest expands.
I did this.
We did this.
After dessert, Ethan stands and taps his glass.
"I want to thank everyone for coming tonight to celebrate these two incredible women. My mother, who taught me everything I know about strength and resilience and love. And my sister, who's been my partner in crime since day one."
There are murmurs of agreement around the table.
"This year is special," Ethan continues. "And I wanted to do something worthy of the occasion." He picks up the first wrapped box. "Mom, this is for you."
Diane's hands shake slightly as she unwraps the necklace. When she opens the box, she gasps.
"Ethan... this is..."
"It's our family tree," he explains. "Every stone represents someone who loves you. And there's room to add more as the family grows. And dad’s birthstone is right next to yours."
Diane bursts into tears, pulling Ethan into a fierce hug.
"I love it. I love you. Thank you, baby."
Claire is next. She unwraps the first book carefully, and her reaction is even more dramatic than her mother's.
"Is this... is this a first edition?" Her voice cracks. "How did you..."
"Open the other one," Ethan prompts.
She opens it carefully. "This isn’t even out yet!"
"Open the cover."
When she sees the signature, Claire actually screams. "You got Lydia Hartley to sign the book?! How?!"
"I had help." Ethan's gaze finds mine across the table. "Lily tracked it down and arranged everything."
Suddenly, everyone is looking at me.
"It was nothing," I start to say.
"It wasn't nothing," Claire interrupts, coming around the table to hug me. "This is the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given me. Thank you."
"You're welcome," I manage, overwhelmed by the emotion in the room.
The rest of the evening passes in a blur of laughter and stories and warmth. But through it all, I'm acutely aware of Ethan watching me.
Not with possession.
With pride.
Like he's showing off something precious.
Like he's showing off me.
When the last guest finally leaves around eleven, I kick off my heels and collapse onto the couch, exhausted but elated.
"We did it," I say to the ceiling.
"You did it." Ethan sits beside me, pulling my feet into his lap. "You were magnificent tonight."
"Your family is wonderful."
"They loved you. Claire asked for your number. I think she wants to be friends."
"Really?"
"Really." His hands begin massaging my feet, and I groan with pleasure. "How are you feeling?"
"Tired. Happy. Proud of myself, actually."
"As you should be." His fingers work magic on my aching arches. "You exceeded every expectation."
"Thank you for trusting me with something so important."
"Thank you for caring enough to make it perfect." He's quiet for a moment. "Lily, can we talk about something?"
My heart rate picks up. "Of course."
"The job is done. Technically, our business arrangement is complete."
Oh God. Here it comes. The part where he thanks me and sends me on my way.
"Right," I say carefully.
"Which means we need to establish new terms."
I sit up. "New terms?"
"For us. Because I meant what I said last night. I want to explore this. Build something real." His gaze holds mine. "But only if you want the same thing."
Relief floods through me. "I do. I absolutely do."
"Good. Then here's what I'm proposing." He shifts so we're facing each other. "We start by officially dating. No more pretending this is just about work. We're honest about what we are."
"Which is?"
"Two people who are falling for each other." His hand cups my cheek. "Two people who want to explore a dynamic that's unconventional but right for them."
My breath catches. "You're falling for me?"
"Completely. Terrifyingly. Wonderfully." His thumb brushes across my lips. "Are you falling for me?"
"Yes," I whisper. "So much it scares me."
"Then let's be scared together." He leans closer. "Let's build something that's ours. With rules we create. Boundaries we respect. Trust we earn, mutually together."
"What kind of rules?"
"That's what we figure out. Together. I want us to start now." He pulls back slightly. "I want to take care of you, Lily. In all the ways that matter. I want to guide you when you need direction. Support you when you need strength and give you space to surrender when you need to let go."
My heart is racing. "And what do you need from me?"
"I need you to give me your honesty along with your trust. I need your willingness to tell me when something doesn't feel right." His eyes search mine. "Can you do that? Honesty, integrity and communication. If we have those three things between us, everything else will fall into place."
"I can try."
"That's all I ask." He stands, offering his hand. "Now come on. It's late, and you're exhausted."
I let him pull me up. "I should go home."
"Why?"
"Because... I don't know. Because that's what people do?"
"Or you could stay here. In my bed this time, not the guest room. Just sleeping," he adds quickly. "I'm not asking for more than you're ready to give."
The offer should terrify me. It doesn’t.
"Okay," I say. "I'll stay."
His smile is radiant. "Good girl. Now let's get you upstairs before you fall asleep standing up."
He leads me to his bedroom, and I'm too tired to do more than notice it's tastefully masculine before he's handing me one of his t-shirts.
"Bathroom's through there. Take your time."
I change quickly, brush my teeth with the toothbrush he wordlessly provides, and emerge to find him already in bed, reading.
He sets the book aside when he sees me. "Come here."
I climb into bed, and he pulls me close, so my head rests on his chest.
"Comfortable?" he asks.
"Very."
"Good." His fingers trace lazy patterns on my back. "Sleep, sweetheart. You've earned it."
"Ethan?"
"Mm?"
"Thank you. For everything."
"You're welcome. Now sleep."
I close my eyes, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat… and fall fast asleep.
The morning after our first night together, I wake up tangled in Ethan's sheets with sunlight streaming across his face.
He's already awake, watching me with an expression so tender it makes my chest ache.
"Morning," I murmur, stretching.
"Morning, sweetheart." His fingers trace down my bare arm. "How are you feeling?"
"Happy. A little overwhelmed."
"Overwhelmed how?"