Eleven
Ethan
Marcus settles into the leather chair in my office and places the folder on the desk. “This, my friend, could be our biggest win of the year.”
I lean forward and open the folder. “Joint Financial Holdings,” I read the name aloud. They’re a US-based metals dealer that converts retirement accounts into physical gold, silver, and platinum.
“And it gets better,” Marcus adds. “They’re requesting high-security, climate-controlled vaults.”
I nod slowly. Makes sense. They’re the most likely to protect metals from environmental threats, such as moisture and extreme temperature fluctuations, which can degrade their quality over time.
Marcus lets out a low, appreciative whistle. “Ethan, this is easily a multi-million-dollar contract.”
“I know,” I affirm, meeting his gaze across the desk as I hand him the folder. “Let’s get the core team together. I want a preliminary design concept, a comprehensive threat assessment, and a ballpark figure on my desk by the end of the week.”
“Consider it done,” Marcus replies, taking the folder from me.
Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door.
“Come in,” I call out.
The door opens, and I look up, shocked to see Lily.
My gaze, involuntary and hungry, roams over her, and something sharp and painful tightens in my chest. She’s lost so much weight since I last saw her. Her oversized, faded gray hoodie seems to swallow her, hanging loosely where it once fit perfectly.
Lily’s eyes drift around the office, her face clouded by a sorrowful, almost haunted look that makes my chest clench even tighter.
I realize she must be picturing what happened between Emma and me in this very room.
The weight of that knowledge crashes over me, filling me with regret for the pain I’ve caused her.
Marcus pushes back his chair and rises to his feet. “Hey, Lily bear,” he says, pulling her into a hug.
“Hi, Marcus,” she whispers.
He glances over his shoulder at me, a knowing, sympathetic look in his eyes. “I’m going to give you guys some privacy.”
I blink, and a slow, heavy nod is my only response. My mind is still reeling, trying to process that Lily is here.
Marcus gives Lily’s arm a quick, reassuring squeeze as he passes her, closing the door softly behind him.
Lily stands in place awkwardly and fidgets with the hem of her sweater. It’s a nervous habit I notice her doing more and more every time I see her.
“Is everything okay? The kids?” I ask, getting to my feet.
“The kids are fine. I actually came here to talk to you about something else, but if this isn’t a good time, we can—”
“No, it’s fine. I always have time for you.” I tuck my hands into my pockets, aching to reach out, to hold her, to offer some comfort, any comfort. “Would you like to sit down? Or can I get you something to drink?”
“No, thank you. This won’t take long.”
We stand in silence until she looks back at me. “Ethan—”
Before she can finish, there’s another knock at the door. Without waiting for me to answer, the door opens, and Hannah appears.
“Oh,” Hannah says, her smile faltering as she takes in the scene.
Lily wraps her arms around herself, her shoulders hunching, and quickly glances away, her face flushing. Hannah, in her tight navy dress and matching heels, seems to radiate the confidence that Lily lacks at the moment. An issue she never had before now.
What the hell is going on with Lily?
“Hannah, I’m in the middle of something. We’ll talk later,” I state.
“It’s not a problem. I can leave,” Lily says, turning back to me.
“No, it’s fine. Lily—”
“It’s okay. We can talk another day.”
Without saying another word, she scurries past Hannah. I follow suit, a desperate urgency propelling me forward.
“Lily, wait!” I call out.
She stops at the elevator, then slowly turns my way.
“Please don’t leave,” I plead.
“It’s okay. I should’ve called first,” she says.
“I can stop by after work today, if that’s better for you,” I suggest, grasping for any way to see her again.
She nods. “That sounds good.”
I nod in return, my throat tight. The elevator doors slide open with a soft chime, and she steps inside. Our gazes lock for a brief, agonizing moment, a silent conversation of pain and a hunger we both recognize passing between us, before she lowers her head as the doors close.
I step out of the car, my feet landing firmly on the pavement. I make my way up to the front entrance of Lily’s house and press the doorbell.
Within moments, the door swings open, revealing Sam, who is munching on an apple. “Hey,” she says as she opens the screen door to let me in.
“Hey, is Lily home?”
“Yep. Come on in. She mentioned you would be stopping by. I’ll go get her,” Sam says, jogging up the stairs.
A few minutes later, with Sam beside her, Lily walks down the steps slowly and carefully, as if she’s having a hard time keeping her balance.
Sam has her arm wrapped around Lily’s waist as she guides her down the steps. She looks so frail and small, a shadow of herself. What the hell is going on? And why does Sam need to help her keep her balance? She didn’t seem to need help when she was at my office earlier today.
Lily finally reaches the bottom, her feet solid on the wooden floor. She pulls her oversized hoodie tighter around her. It swallows her, making her seem even more vulnerable.
“Hey,” she says quietly.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Yes. The virus doesn’t want to leave my body.” She tries a half-laugh, but it’s more of a cough, devoid of humor. Sam takes a subtle step behind her as if she needs to be ready to catch her if she falls.
“Why aren’t you sleeping in the guest room downstairs?” I ask, a slight edge of frustration in my voice.
She looks at me, a flicker of confusion in her eyes.
I exhale slowly, the edge leaving my voice. “I mean, I noticed you’re a bit… unsteady. Maybe it would be easier, you know, until you’re feeling stronger.”
I remember the nights when she was sick, bundled up downstairs in her blanket. I would sit in the nearby chair and watch over her until morning, unwilling to leave her side.
She offers a warm, familiar smile, the one that has always had the power to melt away my worries. It’s the smile I looked forward to every day, the one that made everything feel right, and even now, I find myself loving it just as much as I did before.
Sam’s phone rings. “Oh, I have to take this. Are you going to be alright?” she asks Lily, who nods. Sam gives me a half-smile and walks away toward the living room.
“Is this still a good time to talk?” I ask Lily.
“Of course. Can we go to the patio?” she asks.
“Lead the way.” I smile and follow her toward the patio.
Each step seems to require immense effort, and my instinct is to reach out, to steady her, to take her hand, but I remind myself to respect her boundaries.
We settle into the cushioned rockers and stare out into the garden. The view is beautiful here. The lush greenery and vibrant flowers form an oasis. A wave of profound sadness washes over me, remembering the countless hours Lily spent tending to the garden at our old home.
“The reason why I stopped by today was—”
Before she can say anything, a sharp, distressed cry cuts through the inside of the house. Lily’s head snaps up, her eyes wide, instantly alert.
“Ollie?” she murmurs as she scrambles out of the patio chair.
I reach out and slide the door open for her, but then hesitate, my hand still on the frame, unsure if I should follow her inside. I decide to give her space and wait outside on the patio.
A few minutes later, Lily reappears at the doorway, a deep, worried frown etched between her brows. She clutches a small, damp washcloth in one hand. “Ollie is not feeling well.”
Her gaze meets mine with a flicker of genuine regret. “Ethan, I am so sorry to do this, but I need to take care of him. Can we please, please talk another time?”
“Oh, yeah, of course, Lily. Don’t even worry about it,” I say quickly. “Go. I really hope he feels better soon.”
She gives me a thankful nod, then turns and disappears back into the house.
The sliding door clicks shut with a soft, final thud behind her.