Addicted(76)

He takes me to a charming little bistro with rock walls and striped awnings and a truly astonishing menu, which Ethan seems to know quite well. He offers to order for me and does a really nice job of it, considering we’ve only been on a few real dates.

We dine on rustic French soups, followed by a gorgeous beet salad and the most delicious coq au vin I’ve ever tasted. It’s a lot of food, but I’m hungry enough to do it justice—even with the different wines Ethan insists on ordering to accompany each course. I do draw the line at dessert, so Ethan has a couple packed up for us to eat later, and then we’re on our way.

We spend a couple of hours walking around the Historic Napa Mill, a shopping center filled with quaint little boutiques and gourmet food stores. It’s a lot of fun strolling hand in hand with Ethan, who knows more about the area than I had ever imagined. He regales me with story after story about Napa Valley and the only moment of discord we have is when he wants to buy me a silk scarf I admire.

It’s hand-painted by a local artist and absolutely gorgeous—very impressionistic in style and even the color scheme reminds me a lot of Monet’s The Rose Walk. And while I like it very much, I’m not inclined to let Ethan spend close to two thousand dollars on it. Not after everything else he’s bought me. And not when the lavender bath oil from the shop across the way is just as charming of a souvenir for literally one percent of the cost of the scarf.

On the way to the car, I can tell Ethan’s a little annoyed by my refusal to let him buy me the scarf—which in turn makes me anxious. Not anxious enough to change my mind, but more than anxious enough to talk to him about why I refused.

“I’m really not trying to be difficult,” I tell him after he pulls into traffic.

“Yeah, well, you’re doing a pretty good job of it for not trying.” His tone is crisp, acerbic even, but a glance at his face shows me that the right corner of his mouth is twitching just a little—the way it always does when he’s struggling not to smile.

“Look, I know you have money. I know you have a lot of money and that buying that scarf would mean less than nothing to you—”

“Of course it would.” He looks surprised that I would think otherwise. “Everything I buy for you means something.”

I nearly melt, which I’m pretty sure is not what needs to be going on here. But it happens anyway and by the time I have my emotions under control, he’s pulling the car into the parking lot of a local market. “Can I buy the food?” he asks after he comes around and opens my car door for me. “Or do we need to go dutch on that? I don’t want to step on your toes.”

“Really?” I ask him, crossing my arms over my chest and glaring at him.

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Hey, I’m just asking. Want to make sure I’ve got the rules clear.”

“I don’t know. If you intend to be this big of an *, then I think I’ll be paying for my own food, thank you very much.”

“I’m the *?” He slams the car door, then leans back against it like he has no intention of going anywhere until we have this sorted out. Which is more than fine with me, since it’s a fight that’s been brewing for a while between us. “Do you ever think how it makes me feel that every time I try to give you something, it’s a fight?”

“That’s not fair.”

“No, it isn’t fair, to either of us. But it is true. So why don’t we get to the bottom of this once and for all so we can go back to enjoying the day. What is it about me buying you presents that makes you so goddamn uncomfortable?”

“First of all, when I said it wasn’t fair, I meant that it’s not all your presents that make me uncomfortable,” I tell him. When he looks at me like I’m not being honest, I insist, “It isn’t. I love the things you send me—the seashells, the tea, the books, the hair combs. I even kept the suit without a hassle, though I have to admit that grated on me a little bit. But I needed it and I knew it was your way of making up for what happened on the beach.”

“Just to be clear, there’s nothing I regret about what happened on the beach that night. And nothing that I want to make amends for.”

“You know what I mean. The rain ruined my suit which probably wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t …”

“If I hadn’t … Oh, right. If I hadn’t ripped your clothes off and f*cked you up against a building?”