Page 8 of Tides of Change
“Sorry, Daddy,” he mumbled and tugged at my heart. “I thought it was Mr. Ethan.”
I weakened. “It’s okay. Just remember for next time, all right? You don’t know who might be on the other side.”
Noah nodded, chastened, but was quick to recover. “Okay!”
Ethan rose to his full height, and his gaze flickered between Noah and me. “Sorry if I caused any trouble.”
“Not your fault.” I stepped aside and gestured. “Come on in.”
As Ethan moved past me, the faint scent of his body wash—maybe cedarwood?—lingered in the air and frazzled me. My nerves, barely calmed from the door incident, flared back to life at his presence.
Noah’s excitement returned full force and brightened the space. He buzzed around Ethan as he slipped off his shoes. Noah chattered about the popcorn, and Ethan chuckled and handed it over. I shut the door and leaned into it for a moment to collect myself. But when Ethan’s eyes met mine, a peculiar twist gripped my chest.
What the hell was happening to me?
A knock jolted me from my spiraling thoughts.
“It’s here!” Noah practically vibrated with energy. His begging gaze caught mine as he silently asked for permission to open the door.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Hold on.” I peeked through the peephole and spotted the delivery driver. “Go ahead.” I stepped aside as Ethan moved to give Noah room.
Noah yanked the door open. “Yay! Pizza!” The savory aroma of garlic and spices spilled into the entryway.
The young deliveryman grinned and handed the hot, fragrant boxes over Noah’s head. I took them with a nod of thanks and passed him a tip while Noah darted toward the kitchen table. His shout of “Come on, Mr. Ethan!” echoed through the house.
“Wash your hands!” I called after him. He let out an exaggerated groan but veered toward the bathroom. The sound of rushing water followed.
Ethan stayed by my side. His gaze followed Noah’s retreat with a light chuckle. “He’s got enough energy to power the entire block.”
“Don’t I know it,” I said, my fond exasperation clear. Ethan’s quiet laugh did something to me—something I wasn’t ready to unpack.
In the kitchen, I set the pizzas on the table, and their rich aroma made my stomach growl. “I didn’t know what you liked.” I pointed to the boxes. “Got pepperoni for Noah, plus a veggie, just in case.”
“Not picky.” Ethan shook his head. “But thanks for thinking of me.”
“No problem,” I muttered. My cheeks heated—was I actuallyblushing? This man had me so off-kilter that I was in danger of falling on my face.
“What can I do?” Ethan asked.
“You can have a seat.” I gestured to a chair. “And let me know what you want to drink. I’ve got water, sparkling water, soda, iced tea, and lemonade.”
Noah ran into the room. “I want lemonade, Daddy!” His enthusiasm burst through the calm like a firecracker. He gripped the edge of the table as he jumped in his seat.
I raised an eyebrow and tried to suppress a smile. In his excitement, he’d forgotten the manners I’d worked so hard toinstill. “Please don’t interrupt,” I reminded him gently. “Mr. Ethan is our guest. Let him choose first.”
Noah’s face fell momentarily. “Sorry, Daddy.” But he recovered with the resilience only a kindergartener could muster. He turned to Ethan. In his wide eyes, I could see his hopes rising. “But you want lemonade, don’t you, Mr. Ethan? Huh? It’s the bestest!”
Ethan’s lips twitched with the effort to keep a straight face. “Sure.” He nodded with mock solemnity. “If it’s the bestest, how can I say no? We can be twinsies.” His eyes sparkled with good humor.
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. Ethan had an easy way of indulging Noah without a hint of condescension, a quality that made my chest tighten in an unfamiliar, complicated way. His kindness touched me deeply, and I wasn’t ready to examine that too closely. That’s just how friends felt about each other.
Right?
“Two lemonades, then.” Ethan glanced at me with a small smile. “Can I get them?” He half rose from his chair.
“Thanks, but I’ve got it.” I waved him off. “Help yourself to pizza.” Truthfully, I was grateful for the excuse to step into the kitchen and steady my nerves. I poured the sweet and tart drink into two glasses. A punch of citrus hit my nose and mingled with the comforting aroma of hot pizza. I grabbed a bottle of cold water for myself, took a deep breath, and returned to the table.
Ethan had already taken over and distributed slices. Noah happily munched on a piece of pepperoni, a streak of sauce smudged on his cheek. A slice of each pizza sat on Ethan’s plate.
