I look up at the roof of my car and smile. In the end, it isn’t really a competition, when it comes down to it. There’s only one answer to that question.
Georgia wins every time.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Georgia
I open my eyes groggily to the sounds outside the door. I’m alone in bed, but I can hear Ethan’s voice elsewhere in the house, as well as Lily’s. I raise my head slightly to look at the clock. It’s almost school time, so Ethan must be getting ready to take her.
Does he have work? I can see his work clothes on the chair by the wall, so he isn’t dressed for work just yet. I don’t have work either; Mondays are normally my days off, unless something huge comes up. Well, more particularly, Mondays are meant to be research days.
I don’t feel much like researching, though. There’s something worrying about waking up alone, even if I know why I have. It makes dread curl in the pit of my stomach.
Last night, I was hopeful that things would work out. But now we’ve both slept and Ethan is already awake. He’s had time to think about everything. Has he changed his mind?
Suddenly, I see the door handle turn. I close my eyes quickly as the door swings open with a tiny creak. I can almost feel Ethan’s eyes on me. He’s checking on me, perhaps seeing if I’m awake. A moment later, the door closes again and I hear him walking away.
I’m not ready to hear his thoughts just yet.
Besides, it’s not like he can just run away. I’m in his house, so he’s going to have to come back eventually. I curl up around the pillow and relax.
I just need to give him a moment, is all. He can take Lily to school, have some time to himself, and then talk to him when he returns. We can decide where we stand then.
And no interfering with the decision he makes, this time, I tell myself severely. Even if he decides that a relationship won’t work out right now, that’s his decision.
Even if it will definitely hurt so much that I won’t be able to stay.
I sigh. At least I have that city job waiting if everything goes wrong. My boss has been extraordinarily patient with me, but I need to make a decision very soon. If everything goes south between Ethan and I…then a little distance between us will be just what we both need, I think.
Finally, I hear Lily and Ethan leave in the old, little car that he bought when Lily was born so he could take her places; despite how Lily has started to beg in the last year, he refuses to put her on his motorbike until she’s much older. Only when the sound of the spluttering car fades away do I sit up and swing my legs out of bed.
I grab a robe out of Ethan’s cupboard. It’s much too big for me, and I recognize it as the one I bought him the other month when he was sick. It smells of detergent, which means he hasn’t worn it since he washed it when he got better. There’s also that faint, musky smell that reminds me of him, so I wrap it around myself and leave the room, heading to the kitchen.
I get down two mugs and turn the kettle on. We’re going to need lots of coffee to get through this conversation, I think.
There’s a fine tremble going through my body. I’m nervous, I realize. And why shouldn’t I be? Everything I’ve ever wanted is on the line here. If Ethan returns and claims that he doesn’t want me enough to risk everything for me, it will shatter me, even if I’ll understand why.
Slowly, the minutes tick by. I end up making coffee for myself and migrating to the table, warming my cold hands with the china. I glance up at the clock. Shouldn’t Ethan have returned by now?
Maybe he’s not going to return, after all? He could have gone to see Kyle or Grant to try and avoid me for a little longer. He’s probably just as anxious as I am, though for vastly different reasons. I glance at my phone, which I’ve placed on the table. Maybe I should call him and ask him to come home. After all, neither of us can avoid this forever.
Then I hear his car, the distinct roar of the old engine shattering the silence. I leap to my feet and turn the kettle on again, dumping my cooling coffee down the sink so I can make another one.
By the time Ethan comes inside, I’m sitting at the table again, one hot cup of coffee in front of me and another in front of an empty chair. Ethan freezes in the doorway of the kitchen.
“Coffee?” I ask as calmly
as I can.
Ethan clears his throat and sits down.
“Thanks,” he says.
I don’t know how to start this conversation. I turn my coffee in my hands. What would be the right thing to say here? Maybe ask him how he feels? Beg him? No, that’s interfering with whatever decision he wants to make…
“You win,” Ethan says.
I look up sharply, surprised.