Page 43 of Daddy Next Door

"This isn't just about one design," he said, his eyes gentle but knowing. "This is about your sense of worth, isn't it? Your fear that if you're not perfect, you're nothing."

A sob broke from my throat, raw and painful. Ethan pulled me against his chest, one hand cradling the back of my head. I cried into his shirt, months of stress and years of self-doubt pouring out in messy, ugly tears. He held me through it, murmuring soft words I couldn't quite make out but found comforting nonetheless.

When the storm passed, leaving me hiccuping and drained, he handed me a tissue from the box on my coffee table. I wiped my face, embarrassment creeping in to replace the emotional release.

"I'm sorry," I said, not meeting his eyes. "I don't usually fall apart like this."

"I know," he said, a hint of disapproval in his tone. "You bottle it up until it explodes. That's not healthy, Lily."

I looked up, surprised by the gentle criticism. "I just—I didn't want to bother you with my work problems."

Ethan's eyebrows drew together. "Is that what you think? That your problems are a bother to me?"

"I know you're busy," I said weakly. "You have important work. Real people with real problems."

"And you're not real?" he challenged. "Your problems don't matter?"

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?"

I fidgeted with the damp tissue in my hands. "I just . . . I want to be strong. Independent. I told you that. Not some needy girl who falls apart over an email."

Ethan sighed, taking my hands again. "Lily, look at me." I did. "Needing support doesn't make you weak. It makes you human. And I'm not interested in a relationship where we only share the easy parts of our lives."

"I'm not used to having someone to call."

His expression softened. "I know, sweetheart. But you do now. You have me." He paused, studying my face. "I'd like you to get used to that."

I nodded, a fresh tear sliding down my cheek. He caught it with his thumb.

"I think what you need right now isn't more adult problem-solving," he said, his voice taking on that quality that made me feel small and safe. "I think you need a break from being grown-up Lily for a little while." He tilted his head, eyes steady on mine. "Would that help?"

I found myself nodding, the movement small and vulnerable.

Ethan's smile was warm and sure. "Good girl." He stood, pulling me gently to my feet. "I'm taking you to my place. You're going to pack a small overnight bag, and I'm going to take care of everything else. Okay?"

It wasn't really a question, but I nodded anyway. "Okay."

"What about the client?" I asked, reality intruding. "The design—"

"Will still be there tomorrow," he finished for me. "With a fresh perspective and a rested mind. Right now, you need to let it go." His voice firmed. "That's an order, Lily."

A shiver ran through me at his tone, but it wasn't fear. It was relief. Someone else was taking charge. Someone I trusted. I didn't have to figure everything out right this minute.

"Yes, Sir," I whispered, the deference falling naturally from my lips.

Ethan's eyes darkened at the title. "Go pack your bag. I'll wait here."

***

Ethan'shousewelcomedmelike an old friend. He guided me through the living room with a gentle hand at the small of my back, past the kitchen, toward the hallway that led to the room I'd discovered by accident. The room that had changed everything between us.

My stomach fluttered with nervous anticipation as we approached the door. The last time I'd turned that knob, I'd been snooping, letting curiosity override my sense of boundaries. I'd expected a home office, maybe a workout room. Instead, I'd found . . .

Ethan opened the door, and warm light spilled into the hallway. He stepped aside, letting me enter first.

"Welcome, little star," he said softly.

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