Page 42 of Daddy Next Door

Ethan stepped forward, coffee cups still in hand. "Let me in, sweetheart."

I backed away, more in surrender than invitation. He followed, kicking the door closed behind him with one foot. The soft click of the latch felt like permission to fall apart.

"Had a break in my appointments. Thought I'd surprise you with a coffee." His eyes never left my face as he shrugged off his jacket. "Looks like my timing was good."

Another small sound escaped me—half laugh, half sob. Good timing? He had no idea.

"Can you tell me what happened?" he asked, his voice gentle but firm. Not a request. A direction.

The tears I'd just managed to dry started again, hot and unwelcome. "I—" My voice cracked. I tried again. "Work. A client."

Ethan stepped closer, one hand coming to rest on my shoulder, thumb brushing against my collarbone. "Take a breath," he instructed. "Nice and slow."

I did, the air shuddering into my lungs.

"Good girl," he murmured, and something inside me loosened at the praise. "Now let's sit down, and you can tell me about it."

His hand slid from my shoulder to my upper back, guiding me toward my own couch like I was a guest in my apartment. I let him lead me, craving the steady pressure of his palm against my spine. We sat, his body angled toward mine, knees almost touching.

"I got an email," I started, the words tumbling out faster as I spoke. "From Vitality Juice. My biggest client. They hated the design. Everything about it. Three weeks of work and they said it was juvenile and amateurish and misaligned and they're going to find someone else and I can't afford to lose them and I don't know what I did wrong because they never said anything in any of our meetings and—"

"Breathe," Ethan interrupted, catching my flailing hands in his. His hands were warm and dry, encompassing mine completely. "You're spiraling."

I nodded, embarrassed by my outburst. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize for having feelings," he said, squeezing my hands gently. "Just slow down so I can understand what you're going through."

I took another breath, more steadily this time. "They rejected my design concept. Completely. After approving all the preliminaries."

Ethan nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. "And this upset you."

It wasn't a question, but I answered anyway. "Of course it upset me! It's a huge account, and I've been working my ass off on this project."

"I can see that," he agreed, his thumb rubbing small circles on the back of my hand. "But there's more, isn't there? I can see it in your eyes."

I looked down, unable to hold his gaze. How did he do that? How did he see past my surface emotions to the deeper currents beneath?

"Tell me what you're really afraid of, Lily," he said softly.

A tremor ran through me. "That I'm not good enough," I whispered. "That I never was. That everyone's going to figure it out sooner or later."

Ethan released one of my hands to tip my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes again. "That's imposter syndrome talking. It's not reality."

"But what if it is?" My voice cracked. "What if I've just been lucky so far, and this is where my luck runs out?"

"Do you believe that?" he asked. "Really believe it?"

I started to nod, then paused. Did I? I'd built my client list through hard work and genuine talent. One rejection, however harsh, didn't erase all that.

"No," I admitted. "But it feels true right now."

Ethan's expression softened. "Feelings aren't facts, little star."

"I should be able to handle this," I insisted. "It's just business. It happens to everyone."

"Of course it does," Ethan agreed. "But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. Especially when it touches on deeper insecurities."

I blinked at him, surprised by his perception. "What do you mean?"

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