Chapter 3 - Unspoken Boundaries
Over the next month, Ethan changed in increments so small that an outsider might not have noticed.
Claire did.
He stopped scheduling breakfast meetings.
He learned to braid nothing—because Luke had no hair worth braiding—but he did learn how to pack a preschool lunch that did not look as though it had been assembled by a nutrition algorithm.
He burned pancakes twice.
The third time, they were edible.
Luke called them “medium good.”
Ethan treated that verdict like a Michelin star.
He started coming home before bath time twice a week.
Then three times.
One rainy Thursday, Claire found him asleep on the playroom rug with Luke sprawled across his chest and a picture book open over Ethan’s face.
She stood in the doorway longer than she should have.
She was beginning to understand why loneliness could become addictive.
If you needed no one, no one could fail you.
But she was also beginning to see the cost.
You could become so good at surviving alone that you forgot survival was not the same as living.
Ethan woke.
“You’re staring.”
Claire folded her arms.
“You snore.”
“I absolutely do not.”
Luke lifted his head.
“You do.”
Ethan looked betrayed.
Claire laughed.
For a second he only watched her.
The laughter died slowly.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“That wasn’t a nothing face.”
He sat up carefully, shifting Luke onto the rug.
“You look different when you laugh.”
“That may be the worst compliment I’ve ever received.”
“I’m out of practice.”
“With compliments?”
“With women who don’t already know what I’m going to say.”
Claire’s heartbeat changed.
She hated that he noticed.
More than that, she hated that she noticed him noticing.
So she stood.
“I’m going to make dinner.”
“Claire.”
She stopped.
“Have dinner with us.”
“I always do.”
“No.”
He looked toward Luke.
“Not as his nanny.”
She understood.
Her fingers tightened around the doorframe.
“Then as what?”
Ethan had no answer.
That evening they ate in silence until Luke asked whether Claire had a boyfriend.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t.”
“Did you have one before?”
Claire smiled.
“Not really.”
Ethan glanced up.
Luke attacked a carrot.
“Have you kissed somebody?”
“Luke.”
Ethan’s warning came too late.
Claire laughed.
“Once.”
“Did you like it?”
“Not particularly.”
Luke frowned.
“Then why did you do it?”
Claire paused.
The question was childish.
The answer was not.
“Because I was nineteen and thought saying yes was easier than disappointing someone.”
Ethan stopped eating.
Luke nodded as though this made sense.
“Did you marry him?”
“No.”
“Do you want to marry somebody?”
“Maybe.”
“Do you want babies?”
“Luke,” Ethan said.
“What? Babies are normal.”
Claire smiled.
“Yes. Someday, maybe.”
Luke considered another question.
“Why don’t you have them now?”
Ethan put down his fork.
“That is definitely enough.”
Later, after Luke was asleep, Claire found Ethan on the terrace with a glass of whiskey.
“You survived the interrogation,” he said.
“Barely.”
She leaned against the railing.
Below them, the city looked unreal.
Ethan was quiet.
Then he said, “You really never had a serious relationship?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Claire looked at him.
“Luke gets to ask rude questions because he’s four.”
“Fair.”
He drank.
“I’m curious.”
“I know.”
She could have changed the subject.
Instead she said, “I’ve never slept with anyone.”
Ethan’s glass stopped halfway to his mouth.
Claire almost laughed.
“That expression is exactly why I don’t tell people.”
“I’m not judging you.”
“You look like someone just informed you gravity is optional.”
“I’m surprised.”
“Most people are.”
“Religious reason?”
“No.”
“Fear?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Claire stared across the rooftops.
“Because I wanted it to be my decision.”
“That simple?”
“That complicated.”
She turned toward him.
“I grew up watching women get told what they should give to keep a man. Attention. Forgiveness. Their bodies. Their careers. Their silence. I decided very young that nobody would ever convince me I owed intimacy because they were kind to me, paid for dinner or said they loved me.”
Ethan said nothing.
“So yes,” Claire continued. “I waited. Maybe longer than most people would. Maybe someday I’ll decide I waited too long. But at least it will be my mistake.”
Ethan set his whiskey down.
“You think men have tried to pressure you.”
“I don’t think. I know.”
His expression darkened.
“Who?”
Claire laughed softly.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The billionaire solution.”
“Millionaire.”
“Congratulations on the humility.”
“Claire.”
She shook her head.
“You hear somebody hurt me and immediately want a name because names can be investigated, punished, removed.”
“Is that wrong?”
“Sometimes.”
He stepped closer.
“What would be right?”
“Trusting me to know what I need.”
Something in his face changed.
“You’re good at making me uncomfortable.”
“You’re welcome.”
He smiled faintly.
Then his eyes dropped to her mouth.
Claire felt it.
The air sharpened.
He took another half step.
She did not move.
His hand rose, almost touching her cheek.
Then Claire whispered, “Don’t.”
He stopped instantly.
Pain flashed across his face before he hid it.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not because I don’t want you to.”
That was worse.
His breathing changed.
Claire forced herself to continue.
“You sign my paycheck.”
He went very still.
“You pay for the room I sleep in. You control whether I keep the job that lets me stay with a child I love.”
“I would never use that against you.”
“I believe you.”
“Then—”
“But wanting me isn’t enough to erase the imbalance.”
The words landed hard.
Claire stepped back.
“If anything ever happens between us, Ethan, I need to know my yes belongs completely to me.”
His voice dropped.
“It would.”
“Then don’t ask for it while I work for you.”
For once, Ethan Mercer did not argue.
He nodded.
“Okay.”
May you like
That single word made her want him more.
Which was deeply inconvenient.
