Page 42 of Ethan & Grace

His mouth twitched in amusement. “Maybe not, but I’m asking anyway.”

It really wasn’t any of his business, but then again, he had proven to be a surprisingly good listener during our last conversation. And even though I had already talked things over with Kate, I felt like I had more to say on the topic.

“I had a fight with my parents and Jason.”

“Is Jason your brother?”

I nodded, pulling my legs up onto the bench and wrapping my arms around them to hold myself together. Even hours later, resentment still churned in my stomach. “Tonight at dinner, he asked if he could have Amy’s room, because it’s bigger than his. And my parents want to give it to him and donate Amy’s things.”

“And you don’t want that?”

“Of course not! It’s way too soon. Amy hasn’t even been dead for three months. How could my parents and Jason be ready to forget her so quickly?”

Ethan’s gaze drifted off into the distance before returning to me. His expression was so understanding that my resentment melted away. For the first time, I felt truly seen in my pain. “Maybe it’s more about healing than forgetting.”

“What do you mean?”

“Everyone grieves differently, and maybe your parents and Jason can’t process Amy’s death as long as everything in your flat reminds them of her.” His tone was as gentle as his gaze, yet his words weighed heavily on my heart. “You might need to keep her belongings close by to remember her. But they might need distance from them to deal with their pain.”

I swallowed. “That’s probably why they don’t look at me anymore.”

“Who won’t look at you?”

“My family,” I whispered, taking a deep breath. If my body was filled to capacity with air, maybe there’d be no room left for tears. “I remind them too much of Amy. They hate me.”

“They don’t,” Ethan assured me.

I wondered how he could be so certain. He didn’t know my parents, nor had he witnessed the past few weeks in our home. Still, he sounded completely convinced of what he was saying. Logically, I knew my family didn’t hate me, but I didn’t exactly feel loved right now either, even though I needed their affection now more than ever.

I felt the touch of Ethan’s hand, which had moved from the backrest to my shoulder. Its weight was warm and comforting. Resisting his closeness was becoming harder and harder. It felt good, strangely familiar. And no matter how hard I tried to fight it, a telltale warmth spread through my chest.

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

Hold me.

I shook my head, but as if he had read my mind, he pulled me against him. I finally gave up fighting and snuggled up close to him, allowing myself to seek comfort in him. I wouldn’t get it from my family, after all. But it was more than comfort I felt—he kindled desire within me too.

Until now, my attraction to Ethan had always seemed a little wrong, not just because he’d behaved like an arsehole for so long, but because we were in totally different leagues. I wasn’t unattractive, but Ethan was another level of good-looking. On top of that, he was filthy rich and part of one of the most influential families in all of London. Doors that would always stay closed to me opened effortlessly for him. And yet here he was tonight, sitting beside me, holding me in his arms. Suddenly, my desire didn’t feel quite so misplaced.

I knew that Ethan could make me forget all my worries and problems, even if only for one night, and I longed for that oblivion more than I did for my next breath. I wanted to be myself again, just for one brief moment. Normal. Undamaged. Carefree. And I was certain that Ethan could help me feel that way. So why not risk it?

“What are you thinking?” he asked, breaking the long silence.

I opened my mouth, but before I could reply, we were interrupted by a waiter approaching our table. “Excuse me, we’ll be closing soon. If you want another drink, this would be your last chance to order.”

Ethan shook his head. “No, thanks.”

“Not for me either.”

The waiter nodded and moved on to the next table. I hadn’t even noticed that the terrace had emptied considerably since we’d started talking.

“What were you going to say?”

The words were still on the tip of my tongue, but my courage had deserted me. Perhaps the waiter’s interruption had been a sign that having sex with Ethan wasn’t a good idea, even if just moments ago, he’d seemed like the perfect solution.

“Nothing,” I lied. “Do you think I’m allowed to stay here?” It was already late, but I wouldn’t be able to sleep. Deep in my bones, I felt that tonight would be one of those nights when my insomnia had me firmly in its grip.

“No. They lock the roof terrace at night for security reasons.”