Page 97 of The Love We Make

“No, we are talking,” he said as he made his way to the back of the boat on the bench seat next to me.

He settled in and faced me, putting one leg on the bench between us and keeping one of the boat floor. The moon was almost full and so bright I could see Ethan just as well as I could with the lights on in a room. He still looked tired and still looked sad.

“Did your visit with your parents go ok?”

“It did. Mom just wanted me to check in really quick since she didn’t know I was coming.”

I nodded, figuring as much.

“Why are we talking out here? The pier not doing it for ya?” I nudged his leg and smiled.

“The pier has eyes,” he said. “Our parents can see us and I didn’t think that would be a good idea.”

He probably had a point.

“I gotta confess something,” he said, looking guilty.

The hair on my neck raised up and I had a small panic about what he would say.

“I told my mom about New York and the deals and conditions we made.”

I wanted to be mad. We promised to never tell them. Ever. But I was not righteous enough to act like I hadn’t done the same thing.

“I told my mom, too,” I confessed.

“What?” He looked almost relieved. Maybe he was just more relieved I wasn’t mad at him.

“I was lonely without you. I had to tell someone how I was feeling.”

“Me too,” he added. “So how bad did she take it?”

I laughed, “Not bad at all, acted like I was the last to know.”

“Mine did too,” he was laughing and shaking his head. “She also said something to me that made me realize what I needed to tell you tonight.”

Oh crap.Here we go.

“She told me she loved me,” he stopped talking like that was all I needed to hear to piece this all together.

“Huh?” I finally said.

Ethan cleared his throat and looked nervously around before repeating himself. “She told me she loved me.”

“That’s, um, good Ethan. I am happy for you.”What the hell?

“It hits differently when it's a relative. They say, ‘Love you,’ and you say it back and that is all there is to it. You mean it, because you do love them. But it’s not the same as being in love with someone.”

I started to get where he was going with this speech. He was finally reiterating that just because we were lusting didn’t mean we were in love. My jaw started to hurt as I tried to ward off the emotions that were threatening to spill over. I needed to hear him out without reacting first. I needed him to finish.

Besides, this is exactly how I knew this conversation would go.

“I remember the first time I told you I loved you,” he said looking around at the water. “It was right here. On this lake. I got as close to the actual spot as I could remember. We were 10-years-old so that was, like, 14 years ago, so I could be off by a little bit. We had spent the entire summer out on this lake and it was the last day before we had to go back to school. Fifth grade. We had separate teachers and we were so damn sad.”

I remember the exact day he was referring to. I had fun on the boat, but as the day started to close down, so did I. I didn’t want to go to school with Ethan in a separate class. We had spent fourth grade together and once I knew how much fun it was to be in the same class, I wanted to do it that way every year. But our parents refused to talk to the school just because we weren’t getting our way.

“You started to cry as we floated on the big donut floats. Our parents were cleaning up and getting ready to call us back to the boat. I felt something tug in my chest. I hated seeing you so upset. I always wanted to make you happy, even when we were so young. So I swam up to your float and hung on and said, ‘It will be ok Maddy, we will play every day. I promise. I love you.’”

“And I said, ‘I love you too, Ethan.’”