ETHAN

I keep imagining that I hear the elevator car rising up to the penthouse, but every time I look over, there’s nothing. The doors are still shut. She’s not here yet.

I poke at the wrapped box on the side table, giving it a quarter turn. The silver paper gleams subtly. I didn’t write a card. Maybe I should have written a card. Is there time? Perhaps I could go look for one…

And the doors open.

When I turn around, she’s just standing there, lit from above by the LED fixture in the ceiling. The light off her hair is a smudge of molten gold. Her cream-colored dress drapes over her sensually, undulating with every breath.

“I’m so glad you came,” I say sincerely.

She gives me a shy smile and rolls her eyes slightly, stepping tentatively into the front hall.

“So this is your… city apartment? Or a condo? What do you call it?”

I hold my hands out like a game show host. “This is the place,” I announce proudly. “I spend most of my time here, to be honest. This is the one that feels the most like home to me.”

She cranes her neck, sweeping her eyes back and forth through the spacious living room, the two walls of windows that look out over the city, the stone fireplace in the middle of the room.

“It’s gorgeous,” she breathes. “But of course, you knew that, didn’t you? Of course it’s gorgeous.”

“Yes, thank you,” I nod, noting how edgy she seems. It’s like she’s deliberately avoiding eye contact with me. Instead she’s pretending to be interested in the city skyline that she’s only seen every single day of her life.

“So I thought we’d head on over to that new place, um…”

She raises up a hand. “Actually, I don’t know if I really feel like going out. I mean, people could see us.”

“Does it matter?” I ask, confused. “There are a million people having dinner right now, Ava. Chances of us being seen are—”

“—one hundred percent,” she announces pointedly. “Maybe not my parents, maybe not my brother, but the paparazzi. People who follow you around all the time, right? Won’t they see us?”

I scrub my hand over my forehead. “Okay, I admit, you’ve got a point. I’ll just order in for us? Italian?”

She gives me a relieved smile. “Italian would be great,” she says sweetly.

I watch her walk around, enchanted by her swaying hips with every step. I’ve got the best Italian restaurant in the city in my contacts, and the chef owes me a favor. I like collecting favors.

“All right, one Italian feast… should be here in about thirty minutes. Happy?”

She wrinkles her nose adorably. “Ecstatic,” she chirps.

“How about if I make a fire?” I offer. “Normally we could eat out on the rooftop deck, but it’s kind of chilly tonight. Lots of fog.”

She agrees, folding herself onto the end of the long, leather sofa in front of the fire. In moments I have a roaring, crackling fire in the stone pit. The light dances over the walls and across her pretty, pert features.

“So, how are you enjoying your new job?” I ask her as I sit on the opposite end of the sofa, carefully leaving as much space between us as possible.

“Oh!” she exclaims as though surprised I asked. “Actually, I love it. I really do. It was an excellent idea.”

I’m happy to see her smiling, really smiling. Something about it transforms her face. She must be really enjoying the job, because she’s even prettier than normal.

“Do you think it’s something you will want to continue doing? If you don’t think it’s a good fit, maybe we can find you something else.”

“No, it’s perfect,” she insists. “I like everyone there, and I like the work. And I’m making enough money that I can find my own place. Probably something downtown, so I can walk.”

“Seriously? You know, I own several buildings close to there. I could probably arrange for you to—”

She holds up her hand to stop me.

“I don’t need your help,” she says quickly but not unkindly. “I’ve got it all under control.”

“I’m sure you do,” I say in a rush, hoping that she’s not offended that I’m trying to help her. “I’m just saying that I could expedite it. I mean, if you want me to.”

She shrugs noncommittally.

“I mean, if you need anything, just ask.”

We stare at each other for a few seconds, and I’m grateful when the elevator doors open again suddenly. Perry arrives, carrying bags of foil containers.

“Wow, that was fast,” she breathes. “I’m famished. Just in time.”

In a few moments, Perry arranges the spread of delicacies in front of us. Ava’s eyes glitter with delight as she surveys the handmade raviolis, chicken scallopini, and beef marsala. She plucks a sauce-covered mushroom from the plate and pops it in her mouth, moaning dramatically.

“Oh my God, this is delicious!” she exclaims.

I don’t say anything. Watching her enjoy her food is a pleasure as always. I’m glad I could do something that made her happy. I get the feeling I already have a lot to make up for.

While we are eating, I realize I have thought about her nonstop for the past week. It feels like it’s been years since I’ve seen her, even though it’s been less than a month. I’m not sure what to tell her. That I can’t get her out of my mind? I don’t even know what that means. I’m afraid to disappoint her again. And I’m afraid to hear her say those words that mean she’s walking away again.

When we’re done eating, I head back to the kitchen to get the crème brûlée from the counter, dotting the candied surface with raspberries. On my way back to her, I take the silver box off the table and hide it in my pocket.

“Crème brûlée! My favorite!”

I sit closer to her, and she doesn’t seem to mind. Our knees brush against each other as she taps the caramelized sugar with the edge of her spoon, sighing with pleasure.

“I’m really glad you came over tonight,” I confess.

She winks at me. “If I’d known there was crème brûlée, I would’ve walked. Happily. Through snow, even.”

“Let’s call it an early birthday dinner,” I suggest.

She smiles at me suddenly. “You remember that? My birthday?”

I love the way she glows when she smiles. “Of course I remember your birthday,” I insist, though I actually had to look it up. “I wanted to get you something special.”

I pull the box from my pocket. Her mouth opens, forming a small oval of surprise.

“Is that for me?”

“Of course it’s for you. Open it,” I suggest, holding it out toward her.

She carefully sets the dessert bowl down, reaching out with trembling fingers to take the box from my hand. When her skin brushes against mine, I feel that spark all over again, that electric tingling. My mind is flooded with images of her in my bed, images of her wanting me, the desire plain in her eyes.

I need to see that again.

She sucks her breath in through her open mouth as she unwraps the package, slowly opening the box.

“Ethan… it’s beautiful!”

“No, you’re beautiful,” I correct her. “This is just a piece of jewelry. Sapphire is your birthstone if I’m not mistaken.”

She looks up at me with tears in her eyes, blinking stubbornly. She’s trying to hold back, I can tell.

“Will you put it on me?” she asks in a timid voice, twisting to face away from me. The sight of the bare back of her neck makes my heart ache. Swallowing hard, I take the pendant from her fingers and reach toward the front of her, fastening the tiny clasp against her soft, downy skin. As she releases her hair, the scent of it wafts over me.

“You’re almost twenty-three now,” I murmur. “The world is your oyster, Ava. Never forget that.”

She turns back to me, smiling, so close that I can smell the sugar on her breath. She leans forward.

“The world is my oyster,” she repeats in a whisper. The wide blue eyes focus on mine, so trusting and accepting again. I feel the connection between us reignite, sparking so vividly that I can almost see it in the air.

“Thank you,” she murmurs. Her hands drift toward my face, stroking my cheek as she leans toward me, pushing herself up on her knees to kiss me. The moment our lips touch, I’m throbbing with desire for her, starving for her taste, desperate to touch her.

We undress slowly, deliberately, relishing every moment of reconnection. It feels like a lifetime since I held her, and she feels the same, but also different. More solid. More real. I feel like the connection between us goes deeper than it did before, weaving through me like a thread.

As I lay her down on the sofa, she locks her ankles behind my hips, pulling me closer, flexing her thighs. “Oh how much I wanted you, Ethan!” she groans. “I need you… I want you inside me so much!”

I almost come, just hearing her say the words. She’s never been so vocal before, always so timid. But here she is now, begging me.

“Say you want it again,” I groan, lining myself up in front of her, pushing her skirt up over her thighs. She is so wet, she has soaked through the white satin panties that cover her beautiful, pale sex.

“I want it,” she sighs luxuriously, arching her back. “I want it so much. I want you inside me, please! Right now!”

“Yes, baby,” I moan, plunging to her middle all at once. We rock together, deliberately, forcefully. She moves her hips in determined circles, taking all of me, swirling me inside her. We come together, crying out at once, filling the room with our sounds.

She shudders against me, gripping me to her with her legs and arms, clasping around my cock and milking it dry. I feel like I’m falling into her, utterly depleted, completely satisfied.

I don’t know when we fell asleep. We never even got to open the bottle of wine. I dreamt that she was underneath me, cradled in my arms, sighing and moaning. But in the morning when I wake up, she’s gone. I’m still sticky, tangled up in my discarded trousers, my T-shirt. I walk around the apartment for a moment, thinking that she might be in the shower, but she’s gone. Really gone.

I’m not sure what to think. I know I felt that connection. She must have felt it too. Then why leave?

Maybe I’ve misunderstood just how much our parents’ feud means to her. Would she really just discard our connection over their long-ago disagreement?

For a moment, I let myself believe she was on her way back into my life. And for a moment, I felt hope about a future I didn’t know I wanted.

But she doesn’t want it, obviously, I remind myself cruelly. How many times is she going to have to tell you that before you get it through your thick skull?