Page 31 of My Enemy, My Obsession

That he could have helped him get out of,I think, but I’m not sure that’s a fair assessment, and the vodka might make me believe differently than I will later. “I didn’t mean to make you defend your decision. That night, if I had told you…” I stop myself.

“Finish the thought,” he urges.

“He was so angry at you that I thought I hated you. If I’d allowed myself to go there, I might have confronted you before I understood even a little bit about you. So, while I regret letting you think I was Zoey, and believe me,every timeyou called me that name, I cringed, and at some highly inappropriate moments, I don’t regret the conversations we had before I ever got to this moment.”

He considers me a moment, and the waiter sets his drink on the table. He lifts the glass and sips, and then says, “If I’m honest, I don’t know how I would have reacted if I’d have known who you were. I’d like to say no differently than I did, but I try to be honest with myself and others. And the truth of the matter is, I don’t know.” He sets his glass down. “But no more lies, Sofia.”

I have no idea why this sets me on fire, but my defenses bristle. I slide the envelope he’s handed me across the table to his side. “I’m not a liar. I will always be a liar to you. This will never work. Thank you, but no thank you, Ethan. They already have my room number for the bill.” I push to my feet, and Ethan is in front of me, blocking my path, and when his hand catches my arm, there’s fire all over again, my body defying my anger and, oh, so willing to melt for him.

But I willingly don’t do any such thing. “Let me go.”

“That’s what you don’t seem to understand, Sofia. I don’t want to let you go.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

I’m all too awareof Ethan touching me, of him standing so close I can feel the heat of his body, but it does nothing to wipe away my anger. He doesn’t want me to go? Is he serious?

“You don’t want me to go?” I demand. “You just called me a liar.”

“That was not my intent, Sofia,” he assures me, his fingers flexing slightly on my arm.

“You said—”

“I know what I said. I know how it came across, andI’m sorry.”

“But you feel a certain way about me. That’s clear.”

“You can’t be clear on what I think or feel for you, Sofia, when I am not. When I said no more lies, I meant both of us, because for me to allow you to believe this is all business to me is a lie and unfair.”

“So, you don’t like my work?”

“That’s one hundred percent not true. You are very talented, which is the only reason I didn’t say no, and keep this personal.”

“You’re confusing me. I need to go back to my room.”

“Macaroni and cheese, remember? Eat, and then if you want to walk away when you are not making a decision with a vodka buzz, I won’t stop you.”

“This is—”

“Crazy? I know. And for the record, you said I don’t care what you think, but I do. Just as I cared when you walked out on me in Hawaii before I had the chance to say goodbye, or ask you not to say goodbye. I’m asking now.”

It’s right at that moment that the waiter arrives with our food, and I breathe out, releasing the heaviness in my chest. “I’ll stay,” I say, but he doesn’t immediately release me. He studies me intently, as if judging my sincerity, and then finally, reluctantly, it seems, releases me.

I slide back into my seat, and he does the same, across from me, and it’s not long before I am staring down at the best macaroni and cheese I’ve ever seen, bubbling with cheese and in some sort of cast iron bowl. Once Ethan has been delivered his burger and fries, the waiter leaves with the promise of bringing me a diet soda and Ethan horseradish sauce.

“If this tastes as good as it looks,” I say, picking up my fork, “I’m going to embarrass myself and eat every bite of this, and I won’t even care.”

“I’m damn sure going to eat every bite of mine,” he promises.

The waiter returns already with my drink and his horseradish. I dig into my mac and all but moan with just how good it is, but then, isn’t everything great when you're tipsy? Though I’m fairly sure this mac would win me over without the vodka.

“Well?” he prods.

“I’m eating it all,” I confirm.

He laughs, and there’s a lighter mood between us now, at least on the surface. Beneath it all, though, there is a crackle of energy that is very present between the two of us. He dips a fry in the sauce immediately. “You eat horseradish with your fries?”

“It’s the best. Try it.” He literally slides his plate my direction, offering me the opportunity to share his food.

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