Chapter 14
The next night, I stood in front of my closet for an hour.
What does a woman wear on her first date in nine years?
Especially a woman who’d just been through what I’d been through.
Too dressy?
Too casual?
Too much?
Not enough?
I finally settled on a simple black dress.
Knee-length.
Classic.
Not too revealing.
Not too conservative.
Just right.
The doorbell rang at exactly seven.
I took a deep breath.
Opened the door.
Ethan stood there.
Dark jeans.
Navy blazer.
White shirt.
No tie.
Perfect.
He held a bouquet of gardenias.
My favorite.
“How did you know?” I asked, taking them.
“Sarah may have mentioned it once. Or twice. Or every day for the last month.”
I laughed.
“Of course she did.”
He took me to a small Italian restaurant in Lincoln Park.
Quiet.
Intimate.
Candlelit.
No press.
No clients.
No family.
Just us.
Dinner was easy.
Surprisingly easy.
We talked about everything.
Our childhoods.
Our favorite movies.
How we’d gotten into our respective careers.
He told me about growing up in a small town in Iowa.
About his dad who’d been a carpenter.
About how he’d learned to build things at six years old holding a hammer too big for his hands.
I told him about starting my company in the garage.
About working eighty-hour weeks.
About the joy of creating something from nothing.
We didn’t talk about Michael.
Or Diego.
Or the trials.
Not once.
It was like he knew I needed a break from all that.
Like he knew I just wanted to be Mari.
Not Mari the fraud victim.
Not Mari the tough businesswoman.
Just… Mari.
He walked me to my door at the end of the night.
Stood on the porch.
The gardenias sat in a vase behind me.
The moon was bright.
The night was warm.
“I had a really good time tonight,” he said.
“Me too.”
He hesitated.
“Can I kiss you, Mari?”
My heart stopped.
I looked at him.
At this kind, honest, hardworking man who’d done nothing but treat me with respect since the day we met.
And I thought of Michael.
Of all the times he’d kissed me while lying to my face.
Of all the times his lips had been on mine while his mind had been on Vanessa.
I wanted to kiss Ethan.
I really did.
But I couldn’t.
Not yet.
“I… I’m sorry,” I said, stepping back. “I want to. But I can’t. Not yet. I’m not… I’m not ready.”
His face fell for half a second.
Then he smiled.
Warm.
Understanding.
“Hey. That’s okay. Like I said. I’ll wait. However long you need. No pressure. Ever.”
He leaned forward.
Gently kissed my cheek.
“Goodnight, Mari.”
“Goodnight, Ethan.”
He walked down the steps.
I closed the door.
Leaned against it.
My heart was pounding.
I’d been so brave in the courtroom.
So tough with the lawyers.
So strong running my company.
But this?
This simple thing.
Letting someone get close again?
That was the scariest thing I’d ever done.
I slid down to the floor.
And for the first time since the divorce… I cried.
Not from sadness.
Not from anger.
But from hope.
May you like
From the terrifying, wonderful possibility that maybe… just maybe… I could love again.
And be loved in return.
