Page 48 of Unless It's You
“I don’t want kids either. It’s okay. But this isn’t a human child I’m forcing on you. Just come pet some cats, okay?”
I catch a whiff of the mint gum he must have been chewing before we met up, mixed with a hint of a musky cologne that makes me want to bury my head in his neck and breathe deeply. It smells like leather and woods and something spicy.
The room spins lazily. Shit. I must look like a bloodhound, sniffing around him.
“You don’t want kids?” I’m distracted by the way his throat moves as he chugs the last half of his pint and the overall...Ethan-nessof him. So rough on the outside, but I’m now ninety-nine percent sure there’s a soft, maybe even sweet inside to him. I pick up my empty wine glass, wishing there were more in there.
He shakes his head. “No. And that’s not something anyone should try to talk you into.”
“I agree.”
Ethan’s eyes bore into mine. He must know about what happened with Ben at the end.
“Hart, what’s the fifth item on your bucket list?”
Oh, no, I can’t tell him about Ben now. It’ll ruin whatever moment is happening between us. Last night, Ben responded,saying he wants to meet up. I haven’t responded back yet, because the truth is, I have no desire to see Ben, or even talk to him. I push thoughts of my ex aside.
“I... really don’t want to talk about it. Just know that I’m not cheating on that one, okay? I’ll tell you, eventually. Before the end of the month.” Or never, if I can manage it.
Ethan opens his mouth to respond, but I speak before he can.
“I was thinking about your mom’s flat.”
He startles with a slight movement of his head, and blinks slowly. “What? Why?”
“You’re here trying to convince me I need help with Aunt Evelyn’s bucket list, but I think you could use some help, too.”
“I’d rather focus on you.”
“Listen, if I’m going to go meet kittens at your flat, at least let me do something for you. I thought I could message an MBA classmate of mine to see if I could arrange for his company to pack and empty her flat for you. Okay? It’s no big deal. It’s what they do.”
Ethan visibly swallows and clenches his fists. “Fine.” The word is short and tense, but the look—the hint of relief—on his face tells me it is a big deal. And all of a sudden, something warm and sweet radiates from my chest.
“I’ll do it tonight,” I say, and he nods once.
“Let’s go meet kittens.” Ethan stands and gestures to the pub door, waiting for me to move.
I grab my laptop bag and push back my chair.
It’s just kittens. In his flat. Where we’ll be all alone.
What can it hurt?
20
STELLA
Istand awkwardly inside Ethan’s silent, dark flat. There’s a table right off the entranceway, leading to a small, tidy kitchen. It’s open to the living room, with bookshelves, a couch, and a coffee table.
“Roommate not home?” I look down the dark hallway past the kitchen.
“Guess not.” Ethan throws his keys on the side table by the front door, flicks the light on, and slips his backpack down off his shoulders. His incredibly broad shoulders.
He turns to me, and we stare at each other.
Ethan waves at the couch, breaking eye contact. “Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.” He disappears down the hallway.
Ethan’s flat is in Camden, a half-hour walk from the pub cutting through Regent’s Park, which would’ve been lovely, but not in my heels. Instead, we grabbed an Uber and rode in silence, me questioning all my life decisions in the back seat of that car.
