Page 40 of Daddy Next Door

"I know enough." His gaze was warm, appreciative. "I've seen how you manage your business, how you maintain your home, how you navigate relationships. I’ve been chatting to you as ProtectorE for months. You don't need me, Lily. You choose me. There's a world of difference."

The distinction settled over me like a warm blanket. Choice versus necessity. Want versus need. The freedom in that difference.

We finished our tea talking about lighter things—favorite books, childhood memories, the trips we hoped to take someday. When we finally stepped outside, the evening had cooled, and I was glad for the light cardigan I'd brought.

Our walk home felt comfortable, the silence between conversation easy rather than strained. We passed houses already decorated for Halloween, though it was barely October.

"Mrs. Abernathy goes all out," I commented, nodding toward a yard with at least a dozen carefully arranged skeletons in various poses—reading newspapers, playing chess, walking dogs. "She adds a new skeleton family member every year."

"I like the one watering the garden," Ethan said. "Very dedicated to lawn maintenance, even in the afterlife."

I laughed. "Last year she had one doing yoga. The neighborhood kids love it."

"Did you? As a kid? Love Halloween?"

"I loved the costumes and candy," I admitted. "Not so much the scary parts. I was a bit of a nervous child."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Me too, actually. I preferred the creative aspects—making something out of nothing. Becoming someone else for a night."

"What was your best costume?" I asked.

"My mom made me a robot suit out of painted cardboard boxes when I was eight. I could barely move, but I felt invincible." His smile was nostalgic. "You?"

"Rainbow Brite, age six. I refused to take it off for three days after Halloween. My mom had to wait until I fell asleep to wash it."

He laughed, the sound rich in the quiet evening air. "I can picture that. Stubborn even then."

"Determined," I corrected with a smile.

"Semantics." His hand found mine as we walked, fingers interlacing naturally.

All too soon, we reached my building. The short walk up to my door felt laden with possibility, with the weight of what might come next. First-date protocol suggested a brief goodnight kiss, perhaps plans for a second meeting. But we'd already moved beyond many first-date boundaries.

At my door, I turned to face him, suddenly shy despite everything we'd shared. "Thank you for tonight. It was perfect."

"Even my sad excuse for a bowl?" he asked, eyes crinkling.

"Especially that." I smiled. "It showed persistence. Character."

"I'm glad you think so." He stepped closer, one hand rising to cup my cheek. His touch was gentle, his palm warm against my skin. "I'd like to see you again. Soon."

"I'd like that too." My voice came out softer than I intended.

He leaned down slowly, giving me time to pull away if I wanted. I didn't. His lips met mine with restrained tenderness—not tentative, but careful. A question rather than a demand. I answered by leaning into him, my hand finding his chest where I could feel his heartbeat strong and steady beneath his shirt.

The kiss deepened for a moment, his hand sliding to cradle the back of my neck in a way that made my knees weak. Then he pulled back just enough to murmur against my lips, "Thank you for tonight."

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

"Sleep well, little star," he whispered, pressing one more soft kiss to my forehead.

"Goodnight, Ethan," I managed.

He waited as I unlocked my door and stepped inside, his eyes never leaving mine until the door closed between us. I leaned against it, heart racing, lips tingling.

This felt like something important. Life was changing.

Chapter 7

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