Chapter 6 - Meeting on Neutral Ground
Saturday morning was cold.
Luke saw her from thirty yards away and ran.
Claire dropped to her knees.
He collided with her so hard they almost fell.
“You came back!”
“For today.”
He pulled away.
“For only today?”
“For today,” she repeated.
His disappointment hurt.
But he nodded.
“Patricia says today is still real even if tomorrow is different.”
Claire looked over his head.
Ethan stood near a bench in a dark coat.
He looked thinner.
Tired.
Less polished.
More human.
“Patricia sounds smart.”
“She says Uncle Ethan’s head is expensive but hard.”
Claire laughed.
Ethan covered his face.
They spent two hours together.
No romance.
No dramatic speeches.
They fed ducks despite a sign clearly prohibiting it until Ethan read the sign and confiscated the bread.
Luke called him a criminal.
Claire laughed until her stomach hurt.
When Patricia arrived to take Luke home, he hugged Claire twice.
Then he left.
Claire and Ethan stood beside the lake.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“I know.”
“My mother—”
“I read the letter.”
“I meant every word.”
“I know.”
He took a breath.
“I want you back.”
Claire looked at him.
He immediately shook his head.
“That came out wrong.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t want you back as Luke’s nanny.”
“No.”
“I know.”
He shoved his hands into his coat pockets.
“I want to take you to dinner.”
Claire’s heart kicked.
“Ethan.”
“You can say no.”
“I know.”
“And nothing happens if you do.”
“I know.”
“You keep your job.”
“I know.”
“You keep your apartment.”
“I know.”
“I won’t send a car.”
Despite herself, she smiled.
“Very restrained.”
“I’m suffering.”
She laughed.
The man who once believed vulnerability was weakness stood in front of her, visibly terrified of an ordinary invitation.
Strangely, that mattered more than any grand gesture could have.
“Dinner,” Claire said.
His face changed.
“Dinner?”
“One dinner.”
“Yes.”
“And Ethan?”
“Yes?”
“My yes tonight doesn’t purchase another one tomorrow.”
“I know.”
“That applies to everything.”
His eyes held hers.
“I know.”
Three months later, Claire kissed him.
Not in his penthouse.
Not after an expensive dinner.
Not because he rescued her, persuaded her or wore down her resistance.
They were standing outside her apartment in Brooklyn while a garbage truck screamed somewhere down the block.
Ethan had taken her to a cheap Italian restaurant because Luke had informed him that “rich food is too tiny.”
It had rained.
Claire’s hair was frizzing.
Ethan had tomato sauce on his cuff.
He looked very unlike the man on magazine covers.
“I should go,” he said.
“Yes.”
He waited.
She could see the effort it took not to interpret the moment for her.
Not to advance.
Not to decide.
Claire stepped closer.
Then she kissed him.
Slowly.
His hands remained at his sides.
She pulled back.
“You can touch me.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Only then did his hands settle around her waist.
Her laughter disappeared against his mouth.
Much later, when their relationship became intimate, Claire did not experience some magical transformation.
There were no violins.
No sudden proof that waiting had made the moment sacred.
She was nervous.
They talked.
They stopped once.
They laughed once.
Ethan asked twice whether she was certain.
Claire told him to stop asking every eight seconds.
He did.
What made the night meaningful was not that Claire had been a virgin.
It was that she had not been required to become anything else until she chose to.
In the morning, Ethan made coffee in her tiny kitchen.
It was terrible.
“Twenty-six thousand employees,” Claire said after one sip, “and nobody taught you this?”
“I have people for coffee.”
“You don’t anymore.”
He leaned against the counter.
“No.”
May you like
She smiled.
“Good.”
