Moonlight Over Manhattan(63)
“You’re never going to forgive me for that one?”
“I’ve forgiven you, but we were talking about attraction. I would never date someone who makes me stammer.”
“That happened in the first five minutes of meeting you. I should get a free pass. And you’re not stammering now.”
“That’s because you’re weakened and not a threat to me.”
“What happens when I’m fully recovered?”
“By then Debra will be back and we can both go back to our normal lives.”
He frowned slightly, as if he hadn’t thought that far ahead. “So you’re saying you’re not at all attracted to me?”
“Not at all,” she lied. “Not even a tiny bit. You were telling me about your wife.”
“We dated for eighteen months and were married for six. Then we both woke up one day and agreed it wasn’t working. By that time we were little more than roommates. She was dedicated to her work, and I was dedicated to mine. There was no room for anything else in our lives.”
Harriet felt something tug inside her. “That’s sad.”
“Do I look sad?”
“No. And that’s what makes it even sadder.”
“Not everyone needs a long-term relationship.”
“You have plenty of long-term relationships. You love your sister. You obviously love your niece. You’re close to your parents. You have lifelong friends you still see. Those are long-term relationships.” What she didn’t say was that he had more long-term relationships than she did, although she’d gathered a few more lately since Daniel met Molly and Fliss had got back together with Seth.
She wanted one of her own. She wanted to share her life with someone special. Someone who would know her. Someone who liked the way she was and didn’t expect her to put on an act or pretend to be someone different. Was that too much to ask?
Ethan gave her a curious look. “Maybe what I mean is that I don’t need a wife.”
“You make it sound like a liability. Or an accessory. I don’t need a new coat, I’m perfectly fine with the one I already own.”
“That’s how it felt. I felt bad about myself the whole time I was married.”
She couldn’t imagine him feeling bad about anything. “Why?”
“Because I was focused on work and I felt guilty about that. And so did she. Our relationship felt like pressure, not pleasure.”
She had to admit it didn’t sound much like the relationship she was hoping to find one day. “Did you love her?”
He was silent for a moment and the simple fact that he had to think about his answer told her everything she needed to know. “Not sure,” he said finally. “I thought I did, or I wouldn’t have married her. We got together because we were similar in many ways, but being similar isn’t necessarily a good thing. Were you in love with Eric? You said he didn’t want a relationship, which implies that you did.”
She wondered how he always managed to ask the questions she didn’t want to answer. “I think I was in love with the idea of a relationship more than I was with Eric. I know I have to be careful. My childhood left me with a need for warmth and security in my home life. I have to be careful not to be so desperate for that type of comfort, that I make bad decisions.”
“That sounds sensible, if a little clinical. Do you always think everything through carefully? Haven’t you ever made a wild, wanton decision?”
“Never.”
His eyes closed again. “If I didn’t feel as if I’d just done ten rounds in a boxing ring, I’d do something about that. Challenge Harriet.”
“Right now you’re not in a position to challenge anything, Ethan.”
And she wasn’t sure whether to be disappointed or relieved.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
IT TOOK TWO days for his fever to finally come down. He slept most of the time, and each time he opened his eyes Harriet was there, checking his temperature, refreshing his water, reminding him to take his medication, rubbing his back when he was racked by coughing. Everything ached and moving from the bed seemed like an impossible task. Given that all he was doing was sleeping, he was surprised by how much he liked having her there. He wasn’t used to having anyone else living in the apartment, let alone hovering in his bedroom. Usually he prized the silence, but not only was he fairly sure he wouldn’t have bothered to drink anything had she not been there to hand it to him, she also created a level of background noise he found oddly comforting.
Occasionally she’d leave the room and through the drifting mist of sleep he’d hear her downstairs, talking to Madi or clattering in the kitchen. The dog adored her and followed her everywhere, and it wasn’t hard to see why.
Harriet was calm, her presence soothing. Anyone would feel better around her.
Over the past forty-eight hours, even hidden behind a fog of fever, he’d learned a lot about her.
He’d learned that she sang when she cooked, that when she spoke to a client about a dog she always asked after them too. She knew them all. What they’d been doing. What their problems were. And he heard her talking to her sister and knew she was fielding questions she didn’t want to answer. He learned that although she didn’t seem to lie, she was more than capable of being evasive.