The Next Best Thing (Gideon's Cove #2)(86)

“You can stay here,” I whisper to him.

“Oh, so now you’re living in sin?” Gianni asks. “Nice, Ethan. At least Jimmy married her.”

A THOUSAND YEARS AND FIVE SLICES of pound cake later, the Mirabellis depart for Ethan’s apartment. “You guys go ahead,” Ethan says. “I need to talk to Lucy.”

“Sleep well,” I call to their backs.

“You, too, sweetheart,” Marie answers. “Thank you for the pound cake. It was just lovely.”

“We’re glad you’re back,” I say, knowing this will eventually be true.

“Leave the luggage, Dad,” Ethan says. “I’ll bring it up in ten minutes.”

Gianni gives him a baleful look and grabs the handle of the biggest bag and begins dragging it toward the elevator. I’d rather have another coronary than let you help me, whippersnapper.

The door finally closes behind them. Ethan picks up the cups and carries them into the kitchen, and I follow with the plate of pound cake (sneaking in a bite of the remaining piece, not wanting Ethan to know I’m starving, since it seems insensitive).

“Gosh, that was fun,” I say, hoping to get a smile from my buddy there. I don’t. “So,” I continue. “What’s it like to be arrapato for your brother’s moglie?

“Not funny, Lucy.” Ethan folds his arms and stares at me.

“Sorry,” I mutter, my figurative tail dropping between my legs.

“You said you were going to tell them,” he reminds me.

“I didn’t,” I answer.

“Yes. I got that.” His jaw looks like he’s grinding diamonds between his molars.

“Well, Ethan, I certainly wish I had,” I say with undeniable sincerity.

“So why didn’t you?” he asks, looking over my head to burn a hole in the wall.

“I…I don’t know.” I sag against the cool granite of the counter at my back.

“Then I’ll assume you didn’t tell them because you’re either a coward or you’re not sure we’ll work out,” he says evenly.

“Or both,” I suggest, wishing I had the kind of sense of humor that would disappear, rather than mushroom, during tense events.

He drags his eyes to mine. Funny how they can look as inviting as a warm cookie sometimes, as forbidding as granite at others. They’re definitely on the stony side now. “Have you told your family?” he asks.

“Well, I tried. Today, actually, at our meeting. But then Rose wanted to talk about her skin tags, and Mom brought up Botox…you know how it is.” He looks as if he doesn’t know how it is. Not at all. “I told Jorge, though,” I offer.

“You told your mute assistant. Anyone else?”

“Um…”

“I see.” His jaw is so tight I won’t be surprised if he spits out chunks of his own teeth.

“Ethan, why don’t we sit down and—”

“I’m fine standing, actually.”

“Okay.” I consider putting my hand on his arm, then reconsider. “Ethan, here’s the thing, and I know you don’t like to talk about it, but here it is.” He lifts an eyebrow. “I’m scared.”

“That’s clear, Lucy. When do you think you’ll get over that?” Then he seems to realize how harsh he sounds, because he looks down. “I’m sorry,” he mutters.

I take a deep breath. “Ethan, look. When Jimmy died,” I say now, my voice near a whisper, “it changed me. I loved who I was back then, this dopey, happy bride, half of a couple. I loved thinking about the rest of my life. And when he hit that tree…”

Something flickers through Ethan’s eyes and he gives a half nod, asking me to continue.

“Ethan, you know—you know better than anyone—how hard it was to crawl back from that sloppy mess you used to scrape off the floor every weekend. I had to…I don’t know. Grow scar tissue over my heart, just so I could get through the days. And there have been so many days, Ethan.” My voice grows rough with tears, and I clear my throat.

“Lucy, I do know all this,” Ethan says. His voice is quiet, but still tight. “But you have to decide when you’re going to…deem me worthy or whatever.”

I swallow. Again. “You are worthy, Ethan. The thing is, when I lost Jimmy, I lost me, too.” I pause. “I’m just not sure if I can do that again. It’s not that I don’t…”

It’s not that I don’t love you. The words are obvious, if unspoken. “It’s not that I don’t care about you, Ethan. You know I do.”

He seems to know it’s the best I can do for now. His gaze drops to the floor.

“You said you’d be patient,” I whisper.

“I’m trying,” he says. “But I can’t wait forever, either.”

“I’m trying, too!” I blurt. “Can’t you see that? The whole thing on the couch just now, and on the sailboat…I’m trying, Ethan!”

He jams his fists in his pockets. “Well, thank you so much, Lucy. I’m sorry if it’s such a trial for you.”

“It’s not a trial! Please, Ethan. I’m doing this because I want to. But it’s hard. And it’s hard for your parents. Tonight they saw their dead son’s wife with someone else. Even if it was their other son, Eth. Put yourself in their shoes.”