For all I know, you could be a janitor. Would that matter? No. She said it immediately without hesitation. I don't care what you do for work. I care that you show up when you say you will, that you built my niece a bookshelf because she asked, that you do dishes without being asked, and you don't make me feel like [ __ ] for living in a crappy apartment.
Something in Ethan's chest cracked open. Clara, I like you, too, she said quietly. In case that wasn't clear. I like you a lot, actually. And that's terrifying because my life is a disaster, and I don't have room for complications.
I'm not a complication. You're definitely a complication. Okay, yeah, but maybe a good one? Clara laughed, wiping her eyes again. Maybe.
Her phone buzzed. She glanced at it and stood up. That's the art teacher. Class is done. I need to go pick up Lily.
I'll drive you. Ethan, it's a 10-minute round trip. Let me drive you. She looked like she wanted to argue, but tiredness won out. Okay, fine, but only because my feet hurt.
The art studio was in a converted warehouse in the arts district, the kind of space where rent was cheap because nothing worked properly, but the light was good. Ethan waited in the truck while Clara went inside, watching through the large windows as she signed with Lily's teacher, as Lily ran to her and signed something excited, as Clara laughed and signed back. They came out together, Lily carrying a painting that was mostly purple with some enthusiastic yellow streaks. She saw Ethan through the windshield and waved, her whole face lighting up. Hey, kid, Ethan said as Clara helped her into the backseat.
What did you make? Lily held up the painting proudly and signed. She says it's the night sky, Clara translated. The yellow is stars. It's good.
The colors are bold. Lily beamed and signed something else. She wants to know if you have kids, Clara said. I have a son. His name is Jake.
He's eight, same as you're about to be. Lily's eyes went wide. She signed rapidly, looking between Ethan and Clara. Slow down, Clara signed back. One question at a time.
More signing. She wants to know if Jake likes art, Clara said. He likes building things, Ethan offered. Legos mostly. And he's really into dinosaurs right now.
Lily considered this seriously, then signed something that made Clara laugh. What? Ethan asked. She says any boy who likes dinosaurs is probably okay. High praise.
They drove back to the apartment, Lily chattering in sign language the entire way. Clara translated occasionally, mostly when Lily asked Ethan direct questions about Jake, or what kind of dinosaurs were his favorite, or whether he thought pterodactyls were actually dinosaurs or just flying reptiles. I don't know, Ethan admitted. That's a Jake question. He'd have opinions.
Lily signed something emphatic. She says pterodactyls are definitely not dinosaurs, and anyone who says otherwise is wrong, Clara translated, trying not to smile. She's very passionate about this. I can see that. Back at the apartment, Lily went straight to her bookshelf to reorganize it again, while Clara put away her art supplies.
You want coffee? Clara asked. Fair warning, it's terrible. My coffee maker is from 1987, and I'm pretty sure it's haunted. How can a coffee maker be haunted?
It makes weird noises, and sometimes the coffee comes out brownish instead of actual brown. I don't know what else to call that. I'll risk it. The coffee was indeed terrible, but Ethan drank it anyway. They sat at the folding table while Lily rearranged her bookshelf for the third time, comfortable in a way that felt too easy for how little time they'd actually spent together.
I should probably go, Ethan said eventually. "It's getting late." "Yeah, probably." Neither of them moved. "About my sister."
Clara said abruptly. "I'm going to tell her no about seeing Lily." "You sure?" "No." "But I'm doing it anyway." "She doesn't get to disappear for months and then waltz back in when it's convenient.
That's not how parenting works." "It's your call." "You think I'm being too harsh?" "I think you're protecting your kid. That's not harsh.
That's being a good parent." Clara's eyes went shiny again. "You can't just say stuff like that." "Why not?" "Because it makes me want to cry and I'm already an emotional disaster today."
Ethan reached across the table and took her hand. Her fingers were cold and paint-stained and she gripped his like a lifeline. "Thank you." She said quietly, "for being here." "For not running away screaming."
"I'm not going anywhere." "You say that now." "I'll say it tomorrow, too." Clara squeezed his hand once more then let go. "I'll walk you out."
At the door they stood in the narrow hallway, close enough that Ethan could see the flecks of paint she'd missed in her hair. "Same time next week?" She asked, "or sooner if you want." "Sooner? I'm free Saturday if you are."
"I have to work." "Client revisions." "Sunday?" Clara hesitated. "Sunday's good, but fair warning, Lily will be with me.
My babysitter quit. Well, fired me." "Apparently I don't pay enough." "Bring her." "To a date?"
"Why not?" "Worked the first time." Clara shook her head, but she was smiling. "You're so weird." "You mentioned that."
"I'm going to keep mentioning it until you acknowledge how weird this is." "Deal." She kissed him then, quick and soft and tasting like terrible coffee. Then she pulled back, looking startled at herself. "Sorry," she said.
"I should have asked." Ethan kissed her back, slower this time, one hand coming up to cup her face. When they broke apart, Clara's cheeks were pink and her eyes were bright. "Oh," she said. "Yeah."
"That was" "Yeah." She laughed, breathless. "Okay, good. Great." "Sunday, then."
"Sunday." Ethan made it halfway down the stairs before he heard her door open again. "Ethan?" He turned. Clara was leaning out into the hallway, her hair falling out of its clip.
"I really like you," she called down. "Like a concerning amount for three dates." "Same," he called back. "Okay, good. Just wanted to make sure we were on the same page."
"We are." She grinned and disappeared back inside. Ethan sat in his truck for a solid 5 minutes before starting the engine, trying to remember the last time a kiss had made his hands shake. High school, maybe. Possibly never.
His phone rang. Rachel, because of course it was. "How was the date?" "Good." "Just good?"
"Really good." "Did you tell her yet?" "No." "Ethan." "I kissed her." Silence.
Then, "You what?" "She kissed me first." "Then I kissed her back." "Then we agreed to see each other Sunday." "Oh my god," Rachel breathed.
"You're in deep." "Yeah." "Like really deep." "I know." "And you still haven't told her who you are."
"No." "This is going to blow up in your face." "Probably." "But you're doing it anyway." "Yeah." His sister sighed.
"You're an idiot." "But you sound happy, so I guess that counts for something." "Thanks." "When do I get to meet her? Not yet.
Why not? Because you'll tell her I'm a billionaire within 5 minutes and ruin everything. I would not Rachel stopped. Okay, I probably would, but only because she deserves to know. She'll know when I'm ready to tell her.
And when's that? I don't know yet. They talked for a few more minutes before Rachel had to go. Ethan drove home through empty streets, the city quiet around him. His house was dark when he pulled up.