Lily
Three years later
“Hey, Mom. Where’s my blue shirt?” Jake asked.
I looked up from wiping down the kitchen counter to see him framed in the doorway.
“Honey, you have to be more specific,” I replied. “Which blue shirt are you referring to? You have more than one.”
“My swim team shirt,” he clarified, a sigh escaping him. “It’s spirit day tomorrow.”
“I think it’s hanging up in the laundry room.”
He crossed the threshold into the kitchen, disappearing into the laundry room connected to the garage.
I returned my attention to cleaning the countertops when I heard the soft click of the front door opening.
Ethan is finally home.
My gaze shot to the clock on the microwave: 7:05 p.m. He’d texted that he’d be late, but that was an hour and a half ago. An hour and a half since I’d sent him a message asking for an update, a message that had gone unanswered.
Ethan walked into the kitchen, his tie already loosened, the top button of his dress shirt undone. Even after a long day, the sharp lines of his suit clung to his broad frame, and he still looked undeniably handsome.
“Hi,” I greeted him.
He looked up, and I saw the way the spark and light in his eyes had started to dim over the last month, replaced by a haunted exhaustion that made my stomach clench.
“How was your day?” I asked, fighting the sharp edge of annoyance that wanted to creep in. Annoyed that he was late, that he hadn’t bothered to text back, that I was left to wonder and worry.
“Long.” He walked over to me, his steps heavy, and placed a quick kiss on my cheek.
“Are you okay?” I asked, watching his every move as he maneuvered toward the fridge. He pulled out a bottle of beer and twisted off the cap.
“I’m fine. Just tired,” he said, taking a long swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
I closed my eyes for a beat, searching for patience, for understanding. Don’t take it personally, Lily.
Jake walked into the kitchen, the blue shirt clutched in his hand, a small victorious expression on his face. “Found it,” he announced.
I forced the corners of my mouth upward, hoping he wouldn’t sense the sudden, suffocating tension that had filled the room.
“Hey, Dad! I’ve been working really hard on my timing and kick for the breaststroke event. Can I show you?” he asked.
Ethan turned to his son, a small smile touching his lips, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “That’s great buddy, but maybe later. It’s been a long day.”
Ethan was the CEO of a very successful security firm that he and his best friend Marcus built from the ground up after college.
As much as I was proud of him and his accomplishments, it had been hard to see him pulling away from us in the last month.
Something had shifted, and I couldn’t seem to figure out what it was.
Every time I tried to bring it up, to talk about it, he’d shut me down, always with the same excuse: I’m too tired.
We’ll talk tomorrow. But tomorrow never came.
“So that’s a no then. Got it,” Jake muttered, the hope draining from his voice. He turned, his shoulders slumping, and began walking away.
Ethan sighed. “Jake, come on, buddy. Don’t be like that. You can show me tomorrow, okay?”
Jake glanced over his shoulder, offering a half-smile that was more a grimace, but it didn’t erase the disappointment in his blue eyes. “Sure, Dad.” He ran up the stairs, the sound of his footsteps fading.
Ethan ran a hand through his hair, looking torn. “I’m really sorry for missing dinner.”
He looked remorseful, yes, but also exhausted. I couldn’t tell if it was the kind of exhaustion that came from a long day or from something deeper.
“Is everything okay, Ethan?” I asked.
“Yeah… it’s just…” He let out a ragged sigh, the sound thick with frustration, his gaze fixed on the window above the sink.
“We’re expanding our portfolio to include more high-profile clientele.
They expect concierge-level protection that blends high-tech cybersecurity with 24/7 personal protection.
” He finally met my eyes, and I saw the deep worry etched there.
“Which means what, exactly?” I asked, wanting him to know he didn’t have to carry this alone. Reminding him that we were partners.
“It means we don’t have enough highly skilled security professionals to meet the surge in demand right now.
It’s been a nightmare trying to source operatives with advanced tactical training, let alone those who also possess specialized medical certifications.
” He ran a hand over his face, scrubbing at his tired eyes.
“So, currently, you don’t have the resources or the technology to meet the needs of the position,” I stated, making sure I understood the root of the problem.
He nodded, a grim set to his jaw. “And then there’s the liability risk. If a client is harmed or killed, my firm’s reputation would be damaged. We will be held responsible. Everything we’ve built…”
I could only imagine the anxiety, the relentless pressure, and the strain on his mental health. He was already teetering on the edge of burnout.
“Do you have to take on those types of clients?” I asked.
He pushed off the counter, moving to stand directly in front of the island, the beer still in his hand. “It will set us up for life, Lily. My team and their families will be taken care of. Our children and our great-great-grandchildren will be well off.”
Ethan had always been haunted by the constant tightrope his parents walked, the hushed arguments over bills and lack of money. He’d sworn to himself that we would never know that kind of fear. He’d vowed to provide the stability he never had growing up. But at what cost?
“I know you’re working this hard because you want us to feel secure and taken care of,” I said. “But I’m worried about you. You’re exhausted, Ethan. We miss seeing you at dinner. We miss your presence.”
His shoulders sagged. “I miss spending time with all of you, too, Lily,” he said softly, the fight draining from his voice.
I tilted my head to the side, offering him a small, sweet smile. “Can we figure out a plan that will continue to help us feel secure and keeps you healthy?”
A faint smile touched his lips, a flicker of the man I love. “What did you have in mind?” he teased, setting his beer down on the counter.
I let out a genuine laugh, tossing the damp rag onto the counter. “Maybe after dinner.”
He wiggled his eyebrows, a spark of the old Ethan returning, and walked toward me until he rested his hands on my hips, pulling me closer. “Maybe?”
I nodded, still smiling, my body instinctively molding into his touch.
“That’s unacceptable,” he said, his voice dropping to a deeper register. He dipped his face into the crook of my neck, his warm breath ghosting against my skin. “I want to start making a plan now.”
“How about we start with food first?” I managed, my voice a little breathless, my hands finding their way to his shoulders. “I saved you a plate.”
He shook his head against me. “I’m not hungry. Emma brought us dinner, so let’s skip right to dessert.”
The air left my lungs in a rush. “Emma?” I asked, pulling back to look into his eyes.
He looked down at me, his brow furrowed. “Yes. Emma. I told you about her.”
No, he hadn’t.
“Hmm” was all I could manage, my mind racing, a thousand tiny suspicions beginning to unfold.
Ethan’s gaze softened, a hint of amusement playing around his lips. “It’s not what you’re thinking, Sunshine.”
“And what am I thinking?” I challenged, crossing my arms over my chest.
He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. “She’s my new executive assistant. She ordered dinner for the team, and they insisted she stay and join us.”
A small, fragile relief bloomed in my chest, easing the suffocating tightness.
But the knot around my heart was still there, a hard, protective barrier.
That’s how it starts, right? No. I couldn’t think like that.
Ethan would never cross that line. He would never jeopardize everything we had, everything we’d built.
“Sunshine,” he murmured, his grin widening as he kissed the tip of my nose. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”
“I am not jealous,” I said, pouting.
He pulled me closer, tighter this time, and I melted into his embrace without protesting.
For a fleeting moment, I could let go of my worries and breathe. Being this close to him felt like coming home.