Page 84 of Recklessly, Wildly Yours

“Add lunch in at twelve thirty. Pick a place. Let me know.”

I pull his mouth to mine again, taking the kiss I need before letting him go.

“And babe?” he says.

“Yeah?”

His hand on my stomach presses against it a little harder, a lot more possessively. “I’m never adding a password to my phone.”

Ethan arrives five minutes late for lunch, brushing a kiss across my lips before taking the seat across from me, pulling his sunglasses off, and saying, “I’m sorry I’m late. I just got off a call about a conference I’ve been invited to. It took longer than I predicted.”

I rest my elbows on the table and lean forward as I swoon over so many things about this moment. The absolute domesticity of it. Having lunch with my partner on a weekday. Him arriving wearing quad-hugging jeans, a casual black T-shirt, and the kind of facial scruff I die for. The middle-of-the-day kiss that couples sneak when they have the chance. Being able to catch up during the day and share things that we now won’t have to wait until the end of the day to share.

“What conference?” I ask.

He grabs the menu. “It’s an international conference for photography and theory. I’ve always thought it a bit pretentious, but the team behind it changed a few years ago and it’s become a prestigious event to the point where receiving an invite is a huge thing now. I haven’t been able to accept their invites, though, because work kept me too busy.” He pauses while perusing the menu. “What are you gonna eat?”

Ethan likes to share food. I learned this after the up-front stage of things with us. He’s always eyeing my plate, reaching across to steal food, and happily sharing his. I’ve never done this with anyone, so it took me a hot minute to get used to it, but now I’m well-versed and know what to expect.

I tell him what I’ve decided on and then say, “Are you going to accept the invitation?”

He nods as the waitress comes to us. He then rattles off our order, stopping to ask what I want to drink. Once we’re alone again, he says, “Yeah. They want me to run a workshop too, so I said yes to that. The timing is great now that I’ve decided to go back to photography and am looking to rebuild my profile.”

He shares more about the workshop and I see the fire in him. Ethan loves the craft of photography as much as I love the craft of singing. And while I think it’s taken him a lot of introspection and soul searching to get to the place where he is, ready to go back to doing what he loves the most, he’s all in now.

“When’s the conference?” I ask, sipping some water.

“The same week you’ll be in London for your PR week there. And since the conference is also in London, I figured we could stay a few days afterward and play tourist.” His eyes crinkle with a playful smile. “Unless you’ve got shit on your calendar I don’t know about because I don’t have access to it.”

I motion at him. “Give me your phone and I’ll put my calendar on it. And yeah, I have some free time then.”

I’m in the middle of adding my calendar to his phone when a text notification arrives. The sender’s name is Melanie and I swear I stop breathing for a second. My fingers still as I read the lines of the text that I can see.

Melanie: Miss you, Ethan. When can we hook up again? I’m in New York in a couple of weeks. We should grab a drink and...

“Miller,” Ethan says. “What’s wrong?”

I tell myself not to jump to any conclusions, not to suspect the worse. I mean, this is Ethan. The guy who lets me into his phone whenever I want; the guy who got on a plane almost every night to come see me; the guy who protects me at all costs; the guy who values transparency and hates playing games.

But, holy hell, the baggage I’m carrying over Tucker that I didn’t even realize I was carrying has my mind racing down some crazy paths.

“Babe,” Ethan says again. “What is it?”

I slide his phone across the table and meet his gaze. “You just received a text from Melanie.” I hate that I watch him so closely right now, looking for any little sign that Melanie is more than a friend to him.

“Okay.” He gives me nothing. Either he has no tells or she really is only a friend.

I really, really, really don’t want to ask him who she is. Jealousy isn’t something I’ve ever had a problem with, but here I am, my entire body blazing with that emotion.

Shit.

Ethan narrows his eyes at me. “Maddie, what’s going on?”

I inhale a breath.

Transparency.

No secrets.

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