Chapter 23 - Margot
Margot
On Thursday afternoon, I’m pulled inside a small supply closet on the way back to my desk after a meeting.
“What the—” is all I manage to squeak out before the door closes behind me, leaving me blind and flailing in a cramped room that smells vaguely of crisp paper and lemon disinfectant.
“It’s me,” Ethan says quietly as he steadies me, his strong hands bracing my waist.
As my eyes begin to adjust to the dim light that filters through the miniscule crack under the door, I can make out the outline of Ethan’s face hovering inches from mine.
“Hi,” he says, smiling down at me.
“Hi.” I smile back.
Then his lips are on mine, feverish and possessive. Urgent but not hurried. My arms wrap around his neck, and his hands slide to my back, pulling me tight against him.
“I’ve missed you.” Ethan’s low voice vibrates against my lips in between kisses.
“It’s only been a few days,” I tease instead of telling the truth—that I’ve missed him too.
Things have been hectic around the office this week.
The acquisition of Ridgeway finally went through, but the transition has been far from smooth, thanks to their owner’s fickle demeanor and last-minute demands.
There have been a lot of late nights this week, none of which were spent with Ethan donning a loincloth or with me bent over his desk.
It's been very disappointing.
Somehow, we managed not to break our no touching at work rule. Until now, that is.
“Stay with me this weekend,” Ethan murmurs against my mouth.
Nerves and excitement collide in my stomach. I pull away slightly to get a better look at Ethan’s face in the dimly lit room.
“All weekend?”
A small crease forms between his brows, clearly sensing my hesitation. “That’s not weird, is it? You’ve stayed the weekend at my house before.”
“Yeah, but that was before…” I swallow down the rest of the words, unwilling to be the first to say them out loud.
Ethan doesn’t want to do labels. He doesn’t want to define this thing between us.
I’m trying to honor that and give him the space he needs.
Trying to remind myself that the label doesn’t matter nearly as much as the feelings.
And even though I’m unsure of what to call it, I’m absolutely certain that there are feelings involved on both our parts.
I see it in the way he looks at me, feel it in the way he touches me, even taste in in the way he kisses me.
Those unspoken words hang in the air around us. Ethan shifts, almost like he’s trying to avoid bumping into one of them. His hand reaches for a wayward strand of my hair, gently tucking it behind my ear.
“No pressure,” he tells me softly. “I’ll be happy with whatever time you want to give me.”
I bite down on my lip, aiming for coy but landing closer to anxious.
I’ve spent quite a few nights at Ethan’s house recently.
He’s even spent a few at mine, but spending the entire weekend together feels decidedly couple-ish.
It’s the sort of thing serious couples do to test the waters before moving in together, just to make sure the other person doesn’t have any weird, deal breaking habits.
Things like clipping their toenails in bed or letting their tiny beard hairs turn to mulch in the bathroom sink.
It's an important step in any relationship. But this isn’t a relationship, and I don’t want to let my hopes get too high.
There’s no way I’m saying no though. Ethan is my favorite person, and I won’t turn down the chance to spend copious amounts of time with him.
“I’ll stay the weekend with you,” I tell him, “but you’re going to have to do without me for a few hours on Saturday afternoon. I really need to go look at apartments. My lease is ending soon, and it’s stressing me out that I haven’t even started looking for a new place yet.”
“Can I come with you?”
“Um, do you want to come apartment hunting with me?”
“It could be fun…” he shrugs, flashing a maybe-we-can-have-sex-on-the-model-furniture smile.
I tilt my head to one side, rearranging my features into a doubtful stare that he probably can’t see very well in the dark. “The fact that you think apartment shopping could be fun proves that you’ve never done it before.”
Ethan’s hands come up to cup my face. His smile transforms into the one I favor these days—the soft but bright one that tells me I’m not the only one catching feelings against all my better judgement.
“Margot, everything is fun when I’m with you.”
My heart squeezes in my chest, leaving me a little breathless.
“Even rollercoasters?”
“Yes, even rollercoasters.”
He gives me one last kiss, sweet and lingering, then we sneak out of the supply closet.
***
We have dinner at a fancy Japanese restaurant on Friday night, and it feels good being out together—just us, no work, no distractions. But the best part of the night is knowing we’ll end the night back at Ethan’s house.
We both eat a little faster than usual. When we’re finished with our meal, Ethan is quick to flag down the waiter and pay the bill.
As we navigate through the crowded restaurant towards the exit, a blonde at the bar zeroes in on us. More accurately, she zeroes in on Ethan.
When she stands up, she’s all legs and curves in her little black dress. She pulls her long, smooth hair over one shoulder and curls her glossy lips into a flirtatious smile as she moves in long, even steps towards us.
“Ethan.” His name rolls off her tongue like a purr.
She inserts herself directly in our path, forcing Ethan to finally notice her. Recognition flickers in Ethan’s eyes as we slow to a stop.
“Hi Juliette,” he says with a brisk nod. It’s polite but detached, much like the way he addresses people in a meeting at work.
It’s hard to look away from Juliette. Her beauty has an almost ethereal quality to it, like she floated here out of a dream or an expensive skincare commercial.
I run my hands over my skirt, suddenly feeling frumpy in my plain black top and knee-length maroon skirt. It doesn’t help that Juliette hasn’t even noticed me standing right next to Ethan.
There’s an awkward pause, like she’s waiting for Ethan to—what? Ravish her right here on a table between a stranger’s bowl of miso soup and a plate of sea urchin?
When he fails to do so, she takes matters into her own hands and lunges forward to hug him. Ethan stiffens, giving her nothing in return as she presses her entire body against him and wraps her arms around his neck.
It’s the most awkward greeting I’ve ever seen. Instead of being ravished next to a plate of sea urchin, she has become the sea urchin; Ethan is the coral reef that she’s clinging to. Secondhand embarrassment kicks in hard, and suddenly I can’t look away fast enough.
Ethan clears his throat sharply, a clear indication that the hug is over. Juliette lets go and takes a step backwards.
“I haven’t heard from you in a while,” she says.
“I started seeing someone.” He laces his fingers in mine, gently tugging me a little closer.
Surprise flashes in Juliette’s eyes before they shift in my direction. I give her a polite smile, which she returns as her gaze wraps around me, examining me, trying to figure out what I have that she doesn’t.
The answer: Ethan North.
My heart swells a little at the thought, and my smile widens. When I glance up at Ethan, he’s already watching me with a fond smile and a twinkle in his eye.
“We were just on our way home,” he says, keeping his eyes on me. He gives Juliette a quick, polite nod. “Good to see you. Enjoy the rest of your night.” Then he gently steers me toward the door, weaving through the restaurant with ease.
The chill in the night air promises that fall is on its way. A crisp breath fills my lungs as we step out into the dark parking lot and make our way to Ethan’s car.
“Sorry about that,” Ethan says quietly, not looking my way.
“It’s okay,” I reply. And truthfully, it is. I always knew that Ethan has dated a lot of women. Running into one of them eventually was inevitable. I’m more amused than bothered by it.
My tone is light and teasing when I ask, “Ex of yours?”
“Ex is too strong of a word. We just went out a few times. It wasn’t serious.”
It’s news to me that Ethan ever saw the same woman more than once, and I can’t help but press a little harder. “Well, you must’ve liked her if you went out with her multiple times…”
We arrive at Ethan’s black SUV, and he opens the passenger door for me. I pause before getting in, awaiting Ethan’s reply.
He shrugs, “She was nice enough, but she wanted more than I was willing to give her.”
His words should be reassuring, but they sit heavy in my stomach instead. That stubborn little seed of self-doubt burrows a little deeper into my chest, reminding me that maybe one day I might be the woman Ethan says those same words about—to another woman.
When I smile, it’s wobbly and forced. Averting my gaze, I slide into his SUV and wait for him to close the door behind me then I take a deep, steadying breath.
Ethan slides into the driver’s seat and starts up the car. His hand finds mine automatically, casually lacing his fingers in mine on the center console.
I try to enjoy the drive back to Ethan’s house, the comfortable quiet and the soft, rhythmic stroke of his thumb over the back of my hand, but I can’t shake the thought of all of this ending eventually.
The dread of being just another woman who foolishly hoped for more than Ethan North was willing to give.
We pull into his driveway. His house looms in front of me, three stories of brick and carved stone, its arched windows glowing warmly against the darkness of the evening.
I’ve been here so many times, but it feels different all of a sudden.
It’s not just a house; it’s proof. Proof that Ethan is Denver’s most eligible bachelor, the CEO of a hugely successful company, the man who lives in a place with more bathrooms than I have pairs of shoes.
We are unevenly matched in every conceivable way.