Okay. She was already back to her mac and cheese, humming something off key. Ethan pulled out his phone and typed out a message before he could overthink it. Ava has a school project due Monday. Statue of Liberty.
We're building it tomorrow. If you're free, you're welcome to join. No pressure. He hit send and immediately regretted it. The response came 2 minutes later.
What time? He blinked. 10:00 a. M. We'll be at my place.
I'll bring coffee. Ethan stared at the screen. Then he looked at Ava, who was watching him with a grin that said she'd known all along. She's coming, isn't she? Yeah, I knew it.
How? Because she likes you. She likes you. She likes both of us. He didn't argue.
The next morning, Victoria showed up at 9:58 with two coffees, a bag of croissants, and a briefcase that looked out of place in his tiny apartment. "You brought work," he said, opening the door. Force of habit. It's Saturday. I'm aware.
Ava came running from her room already covered in glue despite the project not having started yet. Miss Hail, you came. Victoria smiled. A real one, the kind Ethan was starting to see more often. I said I would.
Did you bring the coffee? I brought two. One's for your dad. What about me? You get orange juice.
Ava made a face but accepted the juice box Victoria pulled from her bag. They settled at the kitchen table, which Ethan had already covered in newspaper. The supplies were laid out like surgical instruments. Cardboard, scissors, paint, a glue gun he'd borrowed from his neighbor. All right, Ethan said, clapping his hands together.
Let's do this. It went badly almost immediately. The cardboard wouldn't cut straight. The glue gun burned his finger. Ava insisted the torch had to be exactly right, which apparently meant redoing it four times.
And Victoria, despite her precision in every other area of life, turned out to be terrible at crafts. "This doesn't look like a statue," she said, holding up a lopsided green cylinder. "It's abstract," Ethan offered. "It's a disaster. " "Same thing," Ava giggled. By noon, they'd made progress.
Barely. The base was done. The body was taking shape. The torch was still a work in progress, but they were getting there. "I don't know how people do this," Victoria muttered, trying to attach an arm that kept falling off.
"With patience," Ethan said. "I don't have patience. " "I've noticed. " She shot him a look, but there was no heat in it. Ava, covered head to toe in paint by now, leaned against Victoria's side. "You're doing good, Miss Hail. " "Well, I'm really not. It's okay.
Art is about feelings, not perfection. Who told you that? My art teacher. Your art teacher is wise. They worked in comfortable silence for a while.
The only sounds the scrape of scissors and the occasional frustrated sigh from Victoria. At some point, Ava fell asleep on the couch, exhausted from the effort. Ethan covered her with a blanket and returned to the table. "She's out," he said. Victoria glanced over.
"She worked hard. She always does. She's lucky to have you. I'm lucky to have her. Victoria sat down the piece she'd been working on and looked at him.
Do you ever regret it doing this alone every day? But you do it anyway. Yeah. Why? Because she deserves better than a dad who gave up.
Victoria was quiet for a moment. You know you're doing a good job, right? Most days I'm just hoping I don't screw her up too badly. You won't. You don't know that.
I do. The certainty in her voice caught him off guard. He looked at her, really looked at her, and saw something he hadn't expected. Belief. Not in some abstract idea of parenthood, but in him, specifically him.
Thank you, he said quietly. For what? For being here. For this? For.
He gestured vaguely at the table, the half-finish statue, the mess. All of it. Victoria reached across the table and squeezed his hand. It was brief, barely a second, but it felt like more. "I'm glad I came," she said.
They finished the statue around 4. "It wasn't perfect. The torch tilted slightly to the left, and the face looked more like a goblin than Lady Liberty, but it was done. " Ava woke up, declared it the best statue ever, and insisted they take a picture. Ethan pulled out his phone. "Everyone get in. " Victoria hesitated.
"I don't really do pictures. " "Come on, Miss Hail. " Ava grabbed her hand. "Please. " Victoria looked at Ethan. He shrugged. "One picture," she said. They squeezed together, Ava in the middle holding the statue, Ethan and Victoria on either side.
He set the timer and rushed back, barely making it before the flash went off. When he looked at the photo later, he'd see what he didn't notice in the moment. How natural they looked together. How much they looked like a family. That night, after Victoria left and Ava was in bed, Ethan sat alone in the kitchen staring at the picture on his phone.
He didn't know what he was doing. Didn't know where this was going. But for the first time in 3 years, he wasn't afraid to find out. The following week, something shifted at the office. People started noticing.
It wasn't anything obvious. Victoria was still Victoria, still sharp and demanding and impossible to please, but there were small changes. She smiled more, took longer lunches. Left at 7 instead of 9. And she talked to Ethan.
Not just work talk, real conversations in the break room by the elevators, in the hallway between meetings. People noticed. People always noticed. So Diane said one afternoon, cornering him by the coffee machine. You and the ice queen.
Ethan nearly choked on his coffee. Excuse me. That's what people call her, not me. Obviously, I have more respect than that. Obviously, but you two have been friendly.
We're colleagues. Colleagues don't have lunch together three times a week. We're friends. Diane raised an eyebrow. Friends?
Yes, Ethan. I've worked here for 6 years. Victoria Hail doesn't have friends. She has employees and obstacles. Well, maybe things are changing.
Clearly, she walked away, leaving him standing there with his terrible coffee and the uncomfortable feeling that everyone was watching. He looked around. No one was looking directly at him, but he could feel it. The weight of attention, speculation, gossip brewing. He didn't mention it to Victoria.
He didn't know how, but she already knew. People are talking, she said the next Thursday at the cafe. About what? She gave him a look. Oh yes.
Oh, does it bother you? He asked. It's never bothered me before. That's not an answer. She stirred her coffee, not drinking it.
I don't know how to do this. Do what? This. Whatever this is. I don't have friends, Ethan.
I don't have people. I have work. That's all I've ever had. That's not true. Uh, name one person I'm close to.
He couldn't exactly, she said. So, when people start talking, start speculating, I don't know how to handle it because I don't know what to tell them. I don't know what we are. The question hung between them. What do you want us to be?
He asked. She looked at him and for once her mask slipped completely. He saw fear there. Real raw fear. I don't know, she said.
But I know I don't want to stop this, whatever it is. Neither do I. So what do we do? We figure it out together. She nodded slowly.
Together. They left it at that, undefined, uncertain, but honest. The next Friday, Victoria didn't come to the bookstore. Ethan tried not to let it bother him. She was busy.
She had a company to run. One missed Friday didn't mean anything. But Ava noticed. Where's Ms. Hail? She couldn't make it.