Page 32 of Ethan & Grace

I’d pushed my cleaning trolley to the end of the corridor and was crouching with my Tesco sandwich behind cleaning products, rags, and bed linen, trying to get hold of Amy’s boyfriend, Garrett. Amy and Garrett had been a couple when the accident had happened, even though I had begged her several times to break up with him. He had often stood her up, and didn’t give her anywhere near the attention and love she deserved. I would have been perfectly happy never to speak to him again, but as fate would have it, he was working at St. Thomas’ Hospital, right next to The Darlington, as part of his medical training—the same hospital my sister had been taken to after the crash. I had to talk to him. Perhaps there was something in Amy’s file that would help me find the culprit. But Garrett had been ignoring my calls, and I was reluctant to visit him in person at the hospital. But if he didn’t stop ignoring my attempts to get in touch soon, I guess I’d have no other option.

The phone rang . . .

. . . and rang . . .

. . . and rang . . .

. . . and rang, until his voicemail came on again.

What an arsehole. He couldn’t even take two minutes to talk to the twin sister of his recently deceased girlfriend.

I sent him a message that didn’t sound anywhere near as angry and reproachful as I would have liked it to, but I didn’t want to scare him off. Frustrated, I leant my head against the wall and took a bite of my sandwich. Why was I the only person who still seemed to care about Amy now that she was dead? It seemed like everyone else just wanted to get over her. How could they accept the death of someone they loved so easily, without asking questions? It was inexplicable, but at the same time, in Garrett’s case, I wasn’t surprised. He hadn’t exactly valued Amy when she was still alive.

Suddenly, I heard steps in the corridor and froze. No one usually came to the end of the hallway, since there was nothing here but the utility room and a storeroom full of seasonal decorations for the penthouses. I held my breath, trying not to give myself away with a sound. If Mr. and Mrs. Darlington found me here, there’d be hell to pay. It was their private floor, after all, and not my own personal break room. I packed my sandwich away hastily as the footsteps came closer. I was in the process of inventing an excuse when Ethan appeared before me.

My heart skipped a beat—and not from relief. Ethan looked like he was on his way back from a workout. His hair was sweaty, his face still flushed with exertion, and he’d taken off his T-shirt. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen him topless, but no matter how often he stood half-naked before me, I was overwhelmed by his perfect body every time. Broad shoulders. Narrow hips. Firm muscles. And smooth skin that was practically begging me to stroke it. With my fingers. My lips. My tongue—

Stop! Don’t!

“What are you doing down there?” Ethan asked, suspicious.

I tore my gaze away from his six-pack. “Nothing.” Great excuse.

He looked at me warily. “You do know that you’re here to work, right?”

“It’s my break.”

“Isn’t there a staff room for that?”

“Yes,” I replied without elaborating.

“So why are you here?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“It is very much my business if you’re hanging out outside my flat.”

“I’m not hanging around outside your flat!” I protested. OK, his penthouse was the closest to my current hiding place, but that was irrelevant. “I’m about to get back to work, anyway. I just need a few minutes alone, so piss off.”

The end of my sentence just slipped out—I wasn’t even mad at Ethan. He had every right to ask what I was doing here. I was just frustrated with Garrett and sick of my colleagues tiptoeing around me. I knew I wasn’t quite myself at the moment, but I also wasn’t as fragile and breakable as everyone thought. I missed my old life, normality, sitting at the table with the others bitching about the hotel guests.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that.”

“Apology accepted,” Ethan said, and before I knew it, he’d lowered himself to sit on the floor opposite me. He rested his arms casually on his knees, his legs bent. “Now tell me why you’re really up here alone instead of spending time with the others.”

“I don’t want to ruin their break,” I admitted. I was surprised at my own honesty. But Ethan had earned a little trust. He hadn’t told Rakesh or Henry about my break-in; otherwise, I’d have been pulled in for a serious disciplinary meeting by now. “They don’t know what to say to me and always seem scared they’ll set me off and make me cry.”

“Sounds terrible.”

I nodded, pulled my sandwich from its hiding place, and took a bite. All the while, I felt Ethan’s eyes on me. I raised an eyebrow. “Want a bite?”

He eyed the wrapper dubiously. While I knew he wasn’t a snooty connoisseur who only ate caviar and gold-leafed food, I assumed prepackaged sandwiches weren’t exactly on his meal plan. Probably famished after exercising, he accepted my offer anyway. I handed him the half, still in its wrapper. He pulled it out and bit into it. His face twisted, but he chewed on bravely.

“This is . . .”

“Delicious?” I finished for him.

He grimaced. “Terrible, more like.”