He hung up before I could protest or even say goodbye. It was getting late, and I needed to get myself together before heading to Ethan’s for the evening. I growled audibly and stomped off into my bedroom to pick out some clean clothes and take a shower. Picking out clothes reminded me that I needed to pack an overnight bag, which made me forget all thoughts of my overbearing father and brought the nice butterflies back to my stomach.
The phone was ringing again when I got out of the shower. I ran to it with my towel falling off of me, only to again find it was not Ethan, but Presley. I let it go to voicemail. I definitely wasn’t up for that sort of conversation. She was going to ask why I didn’t show up at the club last night, and I didn’t have an answer. I went back to my bedroom and stood inside the walk-in closet, trying to decide what to wear. I needed something casual and comfortable because that fit Ethan’s apartment perfectly, and definitely no heels. Actually, flip-flops were probably as appropriate as anything. I laughed at the thought.
I ended up in dark jeans and a lacy tank top, completing the outfit with the pink Converse shoes Ethan had given me. I refused to admit why, even to myself, but I also made sure I picked out some of my nice, lace panties and bra sets. I tossed in a fairly sheer set of pajamas as well, though again, there was no real reason for me to do that. They were just at the top of the drawer, which is why I packed them. Yes, that’s why. It’s not like I dug around through the more plain ones at all. I didn’t. Really.
I called the number on my auto assistance card and took an Uber over to Presley’s apartment building where I watched the guy identify the problem as a dead battery and jump-start my Saab. With a quick thanks, I made sure the trunk was securely latched and headed to Ethan’s. When I arrived at the parking garage entrance, I used the keycard Ethan gave me to open the gate. Once inside, I had no idea where to go, but Henry waved me down and offered to park the car for me in one of Ethan’s spots. I almost asked how many spots he had but thought better of it.
The keycard also worked the elevator, and I was soon stepping into the foyer of Ethan’s penthouse apartment. Everything was pretty much as it had been the night before except for a cardboard pizza box on the kitchen table with a single piece of mushroom and pineapple pizza in the middle of it. Mushrooms and pineapple? Really? I shook my head. At least there weren’t any anchovies. That just might have scared me away. I slipped my pink Converse off and set them next to Ethan’s lime-green ones. I had to laugh a little to myself—the colors looked absolutely horrible together.
“Ethan?” I called softly but didn’t see or hear him. I looked out the balcony door, but he wasn’t out there smoking. I hovered in the kitchen for a few minutes, hoping he would just appear from somewhere, but he didn’t.
Standing around in someone else’s living room when they weren’t there made me feel creepy. I started checking the corners of the room for surveillance cameras, wondering if I was about to be punked. After a few minutes of waiting in silence, I decided to look around a bit more.
The first bathroom door was open, and the guest room was empty as I glanced through the doorway while walking up the hall. He wasn’t in his bedroom or taking a shower in the master bath. I moved further along the hallway, finding two more guest bedrooms and a study with a desk, a computer, and a small television hanging on the wall. The door across the hall from the study was partially open, and when I peeked through the opening, I saw a huge room lined with bookshelves.
It was a library, right here in the penthouse apartment. There had to be thousands and thousands of books. Some up on the top shelf were leather-bound and ancient looking while one whole shelf was dedicated to Danielle Steele paperbacks. Literally every literary genre was represented. A large picture window overlooked the city and one of those huge, overstuffed, seat-and-a-half chairs sat next to a small end table. In the middle of the library, closer to the door than the other chair, was a traditional-looking wooden rocking chair, painted white. In the middle of the chair was Ethan, sound asleep with his hand on a copy of Frank Herbert’s Dune, which was lying across his chest. His other arm hung over the side of the chair, and he nearly grazed the floor with his long, pale fingers.
I pushed the door open the rest of the way, walked up to him and smiled. He didn’t stir, and I wondered if I should wake him or let him sleep. He looked so peaceful and…young…lying there with the paper cover of the hardbound book curling away from the spine. I wondered why he had it out since he had made it very clear he couldn’t read it. Then I realized why he looked younger. He had shaved, and all the stubble that had covered his face before was no longer blocking my view of his smooth, pale skin. I couldn’t help myself; I had to reach over and touch him.
Ethan’s eyes opened.
Chapter 10—Read
“Oh shit,” he said as he sat up straighter in the rocking chair. The book slipped from his hand and fell to the floor. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“What are you doing in here?” I asked.
“Um, not much,” he said. He reached up to gather his hair at the back of his head, twisting it up into a bun and then releasing it. It fell around his shoulders as he rubbed his eye with his knuckles. “Just kind of hanging out, I guess. I hadn’t been in here for a while.”
“Ethan?” I said softly, and he looked up at me, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Why the book?”
“Oh, um…well…” he said, stammering. He reached down and grabbed the book, closed it, and stared down at the cover. “Shit. Um, it was one of my mom’s favorite books. Well, series, really. I think she read them all about twenty times. I always meant to read them, but…well…I guess I waited too long. I watched the movie, but apparently so much was left out that a lot of it didn’t make any sense.”
“Were you trying to read it now?”
“No, I really can’t,” he said. “I used to try, but it was way too frustrating. Before the accident I used to fall asleep reading in here all the time. Sometimes when I’m tired but I can’t get to sleep, sitting in this chair and holding a book helps me. I used to take sleeping pills, but Andrea told me they were addictive, and I figure smoking’s bad enough as it is. I didn’t need to be dependent on anything else, so I stopped taking them. Sometimes I drink chamomile tea. Andrea makes it and it’s really good. It can help a little.”
“Who is Andrea?” I asked, a pang of ridiculous jealously stabbing me in the gut.
“CeeCee’s girlfriend,” he said. I immediately relaxed. “Or fiancée, now, I guess. They’re supposed to get married on the beach next spring. Andi likes to pretend she’s taking care of me, and I kind of like having her play mom, so I let her. Is that weird?”
“No,” I said quickly and then reconsidered. He was so completely honest, and I wanted to return the favor. “Well, yes, a little, but I think I understand.”
“She can’t have kids.” Ethan said softly. “She found out last year and was kinda devastated about it. She’s only thirty, and they wanted to have a bunch of them. And I don’t have a mom, so it’s kinda worked out for us.”
“Can’t she do fertility treatments or something? In vitro fertilization, maybe?”
Ethan scowled for a moment.
“They don’t have that kind of money,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to be insulting or anything. I’m glad there’s someone looking out for you.”
“We all look
out for each other.” Ethan’s smile returned. “Hey! I was going to order Chinese from this Szechuan place around the corner. They don’t deliver, but I can pick it up and bring it back. Do you like Chinese? I sent you a picture of the menu to see if you liked Chinese, but I figured the message wasn’t all that clear. This is the real stuff, not the Americanized crap. It’s spicy though. Do you like spicy food?”
Ethan ended up ordering Chinese and racing out to pick it up on his bicycle, completely refusing to let me get it in the car. It was incredibly delicious, but a bit hot for my taste, and I ended up going through about four glasses of water. Throughout dinner we talked more about books and the library in his apartment. It had been his mother’s favorite place.