Page 45 of Masquerade Mistake
“Hello, we were dirt poor. Even at reduced rates, my mom never would have been able to afford therapy for me.”
“What about now, though?”
“Maybe,” he says. “I don’t know. It feels like it was so long ago, what’s the point?”
“The point is that you’ve held on to something since you were young, and it’s still preventing you from moving forward. Maybe a therapist could help you start to talk about it. Have you even talked with your mom? I mean, is she still around?”
“She’s still around,” he says with a smile. “She lives in town, and I see her at least once a week. But no, we don’t talk about it.”
I’m silent for a moment. His hand has found mine again, and I turn it over so I can trace the lines of his palm.
“You’re going to have a very long and wonderful life,” I say, smirking when he starts to laugh. “Oh, it says here that you’re going to meet someone new, very soon.”
“I’ve already met her,” he says, closing his hand over mine.
“Not me, silly. A doctor for the heart and brain.”
“Really. And have you ever met a doctor for the heart and brain?” he asks.
“Yes, and she saved my life.” I don’t see Susan anymore, but she was an instrumental part of helping me learn how to be a good mom to Finn. She’d been recommended by Finn’s pediatrician when she saw how much I was struggling, and she knew I needed therapy more than I needed parenting classes. “If I hadn’t worked out my issues with a therapist, I probably would have repeated some of my mom’s mistakes.”
“I doubt that,” Ethan says.
“You’re biased,” I laugh. “Seriously, though. Maybe I wouldn’t be drunk all the time like my mom, but I was young and lonely, especially in those first few years. Susan helped me to know my worth and gave me the tools I needed to ensure my son grew up in a healthy environment.”
“Which is why you didn’t want to date,” Ethan muses. I nod.
“I didn’t know how to. I ended my therapy session a few years ago when I thought I was fine, but I’d never broached the subject of dating because I’d made a vow not to. Then I met you, and well, everything changed.”
“I’d like to meet Finn,” Ethan blurts out. Then he shakes his head. “Not now, because you have your day planned with him, and I’ve already stolen enough of your time. But tonight. Your place. I’ll bring dinner.”
“You don’t have to work?” I ask. I feel a little guilty at even considering this since I already turned down Maren’s invitation to see her perform at Hillside. But I also know she’ll understand.
“I’ll call out,” he says. “This is much more important than waiting tables.”
I bite at a smile, knowing this is a huge step for him. “Are you sure you’re ready?”
Ethan doesn’t answer. Instead he stands up, still holding my hand. He tugs, bringing me to my feet in front of him, then he cups my face in his.
“Claire, I’m falling in love with you.”
I gasp when he says it, but he brings a finger to my lips. I can’t fight the grin that breaks through.
“I’m falling in love with you,” he repeats, and this time he’s smiling too. “It not only scares me to death, but it feels like the most natural thing in the world. I want to be with you, and I cherish everything about you, including your son who I’ve never met. And so, Claire Myers, would you allow me the honor of meeting your son in exchange for some damn good takeout?”
“It’s a deal,” I say. “But I think you’re giving a lot more than food.” I’m bubbling inside, and I long to tell him what he just told me—that I’m falling in love with him too. But I don’t want him to think I’m saying it just because he said it to me. So instead, I step on my tiptoes and meet his waiting lips, sighing as he parts them with a deeper kiss.
When he’s gone—when I’m back with Brenda and watching the kids crash into each other on the bumper cars—I still feel his kiss, and I can’t help tracing the memory with my fingers.
Chapter 19
The house is still clean from my weeks without Ethan, and yet I can’t help running the vacuum over the spotless carpet and a dust rag over the shining bookshelves.
“Ethan,” Finn mutters at the table, running his race car over the table. It’s the third time he’s said his name, and I know he’s figured out that there’s something different about our coming guest. “Why is he coming here?”
“I already told you,” I remind him. “He’s my friend, and I want him to meet you.”
“But he’s not my friend,” Finn mutters, continuing with the car.