Singer

Two glasses of pinot noir are waiting on the white marble island when I enter.

“The Crowe Brothers?” he asks, eyeing my shirt.

“I liked the design.”

“My brother sent me that shirt from one of their gigs in Austin. If you like The Resistance, I’ll play some music by The Crowe Brothers. I think you’ll like them.” Ethan takes his phone, and within seconds music filters through the apartment though I don’t see any speakers.

This place is so uber-fancy. I love it.

He’s unloaded the bags. The contents cover the rest of the large island, and he seems to be taking inventory. “What are you making?”

“Spaghetti and meatballs.” I look his way to catch his reaction.

When he smiles I do, too. “I love spaghetti and meatballs. It’s been a long time since I’ve had it.”

“I figured living in this castle in the sky all by yourself you might eat takeout a lot.”

He pulls a pasta pot out from under the cabinet and sets it on a burner. “I actually eat out most nights. I have a lot of dinner meetings.”

“Is that set in stone or would you like to eventually be home for meals?”

I’m not as sneaky as I thought. He uses the fancy pot filler to fill the shiny copper pot I suspect has never been used for something as basic as pasta. His eyes catch mine on him and he does a terrible job of hiding that wry grin that’s forcing its way out. “I’d be home more if there were reasons to be.”

I’m not one to generally hold back my thoughts, and I feel so comfortable around him, that I lean against the counter, and come right out and ask, “Do you want to get married and have kids one day?”

There’s no flinching or cringing, and I love the smile that remains—genuine and sweet. “One day, I would. It’s always how I saw my life.”

“Is that why this place is so big?”

That makes him laugh, reminding me of the first time I saw him. Laid-back and magnetic. I hope I’ve contributed to this glorious side of him. “This was purchased out of ego and stubbornness.” I start on the meatballs and let him continue telling his story. “My mom wanted me to buy a smaller place in SoHo. I wanted a bigger place with better resale. My more practical side. I saw this penthouse and my ego loved the exclusivity of the building and the entrance. But sure, I hope I find someone to live here with me.”

“How long do you plan to stay if you’re worried about resale?”

“You should always worry about resale, Singer.”

“Not if it’s your forever home.”

“Do you want to live in an apartment for your forever home?”

“No,” I reply, rolling a ball and coating it in breadcrumbs before setting it on a tray with the others. “I want to live in a home with shutters and a front porch, so I can sit out and wave to the neighbors or watch my kids play with the other kids on the street.”

The water isn’t boiling, but I swear I see a bead of sweat on Ethan’s forehead. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to live like that.” He comes to join me and sits on a barstool next to the tray.

“That’s not appealing to you?”

“It is. So much about that image sounds serene. But like I said earlier, money of this magnitude excludes you from living in suburbia America on a quiet cul-de-sac of colonials. My kids will have security around them, at least at times. My wife will need protection. I can’t take risks with the people close to me. The world is full of bad people, Singer. You need to know what’s involved when you get involved with me.”

Money didn’t buy him happiness. It bought him a pretty cell to bide his time. He deserves more than a prison others have built for him. We all do. “Is that a warning?”

I want to make another meatball, but concern is etched in the lines of his brow and my stomach twists. He says, “I shouldn’t have kissed you this morning on the street.”

The twisting tightens. “Why?”

“There are photos. A blog picked them up. Fortunately, they were pulled before they spread to other sites.”

Wait a minute. What? “Hold on.” I set the meatball on the tray and wash my hands. When I dry them, I say, “Back up. Someone took a picture of us kissing?”

“Yes.”

“Why? Why would they do that? Why would they want it?” He takes a drink of his wine and then offers me mine. I put the tray in the oven and take the glass, the hint not subtle. “It’s probably best if I drink, right?”

“Probably.”

I take a sip then say, “This goes back to not searching your name online. Am I correct?”

“You are.”

“So the paparazzi follow you around and take photos, then sell them to online outlets?”

“Yes.”

Anxiety ravages my stomach while my imagination goes wild. “Not to say you’re not interesting, because I’m completely fascinated by you, but why are photographers following you around?”

“Eight months ago, maybe more, I was set up by my best friend and my girlfriend at the time. She took me to a party. Said it was a photographer friend visiting from Milan. The hotel room was a mess. Drugs everywhere. White lines across glass tables, bowls of weed, booze, the whole bit. I found a spot on the couch and started going through emails while my girlfriend proceeded to get high on everything they had to offer.”

I watch as sadness comes over him and his gaze drops along with his head. “I trusted her. This was her life, her element, her friends. She always partied hard. I think she liked to show me off, to one-up her other friends—who was dating who, who snagged who, who fucked who. It was a game to them. That’s fine. She could have her good time, and I could have a drink and not be bothered. This party in particular I didn’t want to go to. She insisted. We even had a fight over it. I gave in to get her to calm down.” The somber look in his eyes breaks my heart.

“That was a big mistake. I trusted her. We’d been to a ton of parties together. My friends. Her friends. I thought it was like any other night. But I was bored so I got up to leave and was harassed by her. She wanted to fight. I wanted to leave. She pushed a bottle of whiskey against my chest and I proceeded to get drunk. Another big mistake on my part.”

“What happened?”

“I got drunk and fell asleep. Cops showed up. I was arrested. My girlfriend was nowhere to be found.”

“What?” I ask in disbelief. “Where was she?”

“Fucking my best friend, Keith. I’d been friends with him since I was little.”

I don’t mean to gasp, but it comes anyway. “How’d you find out?”

He refills his wine glass and adds a little more to mine. “After Aaron bailed me out, I went over to her place to find out what happened. I walked in on her bent over the couch with Keith fucking her from behind. Understandably, everything fell apart, including half of his apartment by the time I left.”

“That’s horrible.”

“The worst was still to come. Photos showed up online.”

“Photos of me passed out with dusted cocaine nearby, the empty bottle of Jack.” I reach over and touch his hand, wrapping it inside mine. How could anyone be so underhanded and cruel to this incredible man?

“Keith sent an email with the photos, my mug shot, and links to the online stories to the board of directors. Matthews received it and forwarded it to me. My ex-friend and ex-girlfriend had plotted my demise. Their plan was in motion. The cherry on top was reading about my ex-girlfriend pregnant with my baby in a story she sold for ten thousand dollars.”

“Ethan,” I say, my heart in my throat, aching for this man that’s caught between anger and pain, “I’m so sorry.” I’m not sure what to say so I offer what I can. I may not have any deep relationships in New York, but I can trust my friends. Ethan was abandoned with nowhere to turn. Who purposely hurts someone like that? It makes me admire him even more, because he still has a soul. That could destroy many people. “That’s why you don’t want pictures of us out there? They’ll make you look bad?”

“They’ll make you look bad. I’m used to it. I’ll take the hit, time and time again, but I don’t want them near you.”

“I can take care of myself, Ethan.”

“I know you can. But they’re nasty. They’re sharks looking for fresh meat. I can’t sacrifice you like that.”

“What will they do to you?”

“Every photo caught is ammo used against me. If I’m seen with multiple women then it appears I’m the same playboy they claim I am. The board of directors will find me unfit, and my ex will strengthen her case that I’m irresponsible and owe her damages.”

“Damages? For what?”

“Apparently, for breaking her heart.”

Taking the package of noodles, he opens them. By the slump of his normally strong shoulders, he still feels so burdened by what they did. I go to him, wanting to take away his pain, wanting to erase the betrayal he’s trapped in the middle of. I hug him from behind and rest my cheek on his back. Reaching back around, his hand settles on my hip. I take the noodles and put them in the boiling water. “Doesn’t sound like she has one.”

He turns around. “I think that’s the meanest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

Soft laughter wells inside me, and I wrap my arms around his neck. “I’m riled up, and it’s the truth. She set you up and is now playing the victim. She can’t possibly have a heart when she’s out to destroy yours.”

“True.” Kissing my forehead, his arms tighten around my waist, and he holds me to him. “But she might be pregnant with my child.”

I’m tempted to look up, wanting to see his eyes, but his hold on me won’t allow me to budge. “Ethan?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not asking for my opinion on it, but I can tell you’re wondering.”

His breathing picks up, his chest expanding and returning. “I am. Your opinion matters to me.”

“You having a child won’t scare me away.”

Our eyes meet with no space left to spare between our bodies. “What will, Singer Davis?”

“I’m stronger than I look.”

“You look pretty damn strong to me.”

“Faith will carry you a long way in life, Ethan.”

“I think I’ve lost some along the way.”

“That’s okay. I have enough for the both of us,” I say, reciting the text he once sent.

“I think you’re amazing.”

Lifting up on my toes, I pull him down and we kiss. Together we tend to the meal, as if we’re having a normal night in. Nothing is normal about this man, least of all tonight, even if we are good at pretending we’re a normal couple.

Garlic bread is slotted in next to the meatballs, and plates are pulled from the cabinet. A timer is set for each item, and then I ask, “If you don’t mind me asking, what does your company do?”

“It’s an online social media company. I developed it in high school but started the business while in college. It just kind of took off. It’s publicly traded now, so I don’t have a ton of say anymore, but I have rights.”

“So you want the company?”

“No, I want my reputation restored. I have a dozen other companies now. I’m not going poor anytime soon.”

“I know you feel alone, but you have people around you who care. I can tell how much Aaron cares about you.”

“He’s been good to me. He’s loyal.”

“He posted your bail.”

“I had to call someone I could rely on, so I called the man I pay to be in my life.”

Moving between his legs when he sits back down on a barstool, I rub his muscular thighs. “He would have been there for you even if you didn’t pay him.”

“That’s why I sent him to you.”

“You don’t have to worry about me so much.”

“I can’t help it. Anyway, that’s what friends do.” And then he smiles at me, and it would be very easy to allow that smile to pass as genuine. But I think I know differently now.

I see the edges of pain in his eyes. I want to see his genuine smile, but I won’t pretend and be lighthearted to achieve that. He just shared something very perturbing, and I want him to know he has another friend. “I’m sorry about what happened, Ethan. That must have been such a hard thing to go through.”

“Still is.” Rubbing my hand over his cheek, I lean in. His hands cover my ass and he brings me closer. “But I don’t want to talk about them anymore.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

“Us. I want to talk about us.”

“Okay. Let’s talk about us.”

“I know it’s early to be having a conversation like this, but as you now know, we have to decide what we are going to do or be. I like you. I don’t want to hide that from you, but I’m not sure I’m ready to share you with the world yet.”

“What are you saying?”

He kisses my cheek and leans back to look into my eyes. “If you feel the same about me, I want us to really try this relationship out.”

“I care about you deeply, but are we rushing this?”

“Despite all my bad judgments the night I was set up, that wasn’t my biggest regret.”

“What was?”

“Walking away from you a year ago. I don’t want to make that mistake twice.”

This is fast and complicated, but I deserve someone who recognizes what he has, and by how his vulnerable side resides in the worry lines of his brow, he does. I would have kissed him last year, and I like being with him too much to walk away, so I say, “Then don’t.”