The morning after the dinner party was subdued, uncomfortably so. The mansion was just an empty shell of itself; it was me and my thoughts, with just the faintest whisper of lilies remaining from last night. I sat at the kitchen island, rocking a hot cup of tea between my palms as my mind replayed every minute from last evening and more.
Ethan had been infuriatingly mysterious as usual. There was the occasional flash of something, warmth, maybe? Desire? But it disappeared almost immediately after arriving, leaving me grasping at air. I thought of how his hand had lingered on my back, his fingers just barely pressing into my skin as we greeted the guests. For a moment, it had been real, and he had been mine. But then came his cold, clipped words after everyone left, slicing through whatever fragile connection we'd formed.
Why couldn't he just let me in?
I sighed, pushing the cup away, then I stood to clear my head. I wandered into the library, the scent of leather and aged paper usually comforted me but today, even that did little to soothe the ache in my chest. I ran my fingers along the spines of the books, but that wasn't enough tonight either.
The sound of footsteps behind me made me stiffen. I turned, and there he was, Ethan, leaning against the doorframe with his hands shoved into his pockets. His shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, the sleeves rolled up to show strong, tanned forearms. His dark hair was mussed as though he'd run his fingers through it in frustration.
"Good morning," he said, low and rough.
"Morning," I said, my tone guarded. It was funny because it was almost impossible for me to keep my guard up around him with the way those piercing grey eyes sliced into me whenever he looked at me.
With premeditated movements, he entered the room, and an air of awkward heaviness clung between us. "You're up so early."
"I couldn't sleep," I replied. "There's a lot on my mind."
"A lot? Are you referring to the party?" He cocked one eyebrow, his lips twisting into something that was not quite a smile.
"Amongst other things." I turned away, feigning interest in a book on the shelf. I didn't want him to see how much his indifference hurt me. "It went well, I think. Everyone seemed impressed."
He said nothing at first and I could feel his body behind me closer than it was before. When I turned to face him again, he was but one step from me with his eyes staring deep into my soul.
"You did all right," he said softly, his time tinged with reluctance.
My breath caught, because of his soft tone and mostly because of the compliment he gave me. It wasn't much but it was something. "Thanks." I said,looking down at my feet.
Neither of us said a word for a moment. The tension between us was a live wire, sparking, and I was far too aware of how close he was. His scent, cedar and something darker, something distinctly him, filled my senses, making my pulse race.
"Lila," he said, his voice little more than a whisper.
"Yes?"
He reached out, and for one heart-stopping moment, I thought he was going to touch me. His hand hovered beside my cheek, his fingers curling slightly, before pulling abruptly back and hardening.
"Never mind," he growled, treading away from me.
The frustration in me welled. The pulling in, then shutting down. "Why are you like this Ethan" I whispered painfully. "Like how" he replied indifferently. "You act as though you care one moment, then the next moment, you shut me out" His jaw tightened as he refused to make eye contact with me. "It's not that straightforward, Lila."
"Then make it simple, make it straightforward," I said, taking a further step closer. "Talk to me. Let me in. Or is that too much to ask?"
He turned back to me then, and for a moment, the mask he always wore slipped. Something raw and vulnerable glimmered in his eyes, and my heart contracted at it. But then it was gone, replaced once again by that cold impenetrable wall I knew so well.
"You wouldn't understand," he said shortly.
"Try me," I challenged, the trembling of my voice betraying me.
He stared at me for such a long moment, and I thought, hoped that he might finally open up. But he shook his head and walked out of the library, leaving me to stand there, my heart pounding and my eyes stinging with unshed tears.
The rest of the day was a blur, and I threw myself deep into work with the house workers to straighten up and clean up from the dinner party, hoping this would take my mind off of the ache within my chest. However, my head could not rid itself of the image of Ethan, the way he looked at me, the way he almost touched me.
I found myself that night in the garden, sitting on that stone bench under the oak tree. The cool night breeze caressed my skin, and I wrapped my arms across my chest, embracing myself in the cold.
"Lila."
Turning towards the voice, I found Ethan a few feet from me. His hands were shoved inside his pockets. He seemed really hesitant this time, as though he did not know if he should come right up to where I was seated.
"What are you doing out here?" He asked gently
"Thinking," I replied, my voice soft but curt.
He nodded and stepped closer, his eyes boring into mine. "About what?"
About us," I said, my heart thumping hard in my chest. "About if this marriage could ever work."
He didn't say anything, but I watched the muscle jump in his jaw. He leaned in closer, close enough that the heat was wafting off him.
"You're not the only one who thinks about that," he growled, low and gravelly.
My breath caught. "Then why do you keep pushing me away?"
He didn't say anything, but his eyes darkened, and for one long moment, I thought he might kiss me. My heart thundered in my chest as he moved closer, his hand brushing against mine in a shaft of electricity.
But then he pulled back, his expression guarded. "Goodnight, Lila," he said, turning and walking away.
The next morning, I knew what I was going to do. I would not stand for his games, I would do whatever it takes to win him over.
Ethan came downstairs for breakfast. I was already sitting at the table, sipping my tea. I looked up when he came in, and immediately my heart flipped at the sight of him in his suit, cut to perfection.
"Good morning," I said, forcing a smile.
"Morning," he returned, neutral.
I set my cup down and drew deeply on the breath. "I wanted to let you know that I'll be spending a few days at my parents' house."
He froze; his eyes slightly narrowed. "Why?"
"I need some time," I said, holding his gaze. "Time to think, to clear my head."
His jaw hardened, but he didn't argue. "Do what you need to do."
I nodded, trying to look beyond the pang of hurt his indifference caused. "Thank you."
As I stood to leave, I felt his eyes on me, and for a moment, I thought he might say something, ask me to stay. But he didn't.
With that, I turned and walked away, my heart heavy and my mind jumbled with all the questions that would have to stay unanswered.
What was Ethan hiding? And more importantly, why did I have this nagging suspicion that no matter how much I tried, Ethan would probably not love me the way I love him.
I had no answers but was resolved in finding them out, even if setting my heart open to be torn apart would be the price of that knowledge.