Page 76 of Rare Blend
The remainder of the drive is silent, only the murmur of throwback 2000s songs plays low in the background. There’s a noticeable tension, not electrically charged, but sad. It feels like a conclusion. The adventure is over. Back to reality. I lean my elbow against the window and let my chin rest in my palm as we pass darkened vineyards. I feel Ethan’s stare on me, but I can’t bring myself to meet his gaze.
“Hey.” Ethan pulls his truck between our two cottages, puts it in park, and turns off the ignition, hitting the dome light as he turns to me. “What’s wrong? You seem upset?”
“Nothing,” I respond automatically but don’t turn to look at him. “I’m fine.”
“I wish I believed you.” His hand reaches out and gives my knee a gentle squeeze, forcing my attention to his face. “I know something is wrong. Talk to me.”
I look down at his hand still resting on my knee, and he quickly removes it, but my eyes remain fixed on the spot.
“I think I’m feeling conflicted about the job.”
“You were so excited earlier.”
“I was… I am—” I break off, trying to find the words to explain this melancholy feeling. “I want the job, don’t get me wrong. But it’s been nice seeing my dad again, feeling like I have someone to lean on. Hillary is great. She’s always there for me, but she has her own family now, and with my mom always gone and being single, I don’t know. Sometimes it feels incredibly lonely. I don’t know what’s worse, actually being alone, or feeling alone even around those who love and care about you.”
Ethan nods, giving me the space I need to voice my thoughts as he listens.
“When I was with my ex, it was easier to distract myself. There was always some errand to run or event to get ready for. I never felt the gaps in my life. And I’m not saying I miss him—because no, fuck that guy—I just know that when I go back to Seattle, it’s only me, and that’s a little scary. Am I making any sense, or do I sound like some emotional girl?”
I didn’t mean to spill my intrusive thoughts all over Ethan. Embarrassment settles deep in my chest, spreading to my heart and squeezing. The longer Ethan stays silent, the more it constricts.
He unbuckles and turns toward his door. I’m not sure what I was expecting him to do, but it wasn’t him completely ignoring me. I’m not someone who opens up like that often. Being vulnerable and talking about real shit is something I usuallyavoid. I feel foolish for dropping my guard. I should’ve kept it surface level and not let him pry.
Ethan clears his throat, stilling me from making a quick exit.
When I face him, he’s spinning a white envelope between his fingers.
“Laura and Travis invited me to their wedding,” he says, looking straight ahead, still fidgeting with the envelope.
“That’s…” I try to find the appropriate word but nothing feels right. “Unexpected.”
He chuckles dryly. “Yeah, unexpected.” He pauses, tossing the envelope on the dash and twists to face me. “So, believe me, I get it. It’s not that you miss them, you miss the comfortable bubble. You miss feeling like you had someone that would always be there. You miss the plans you had for a life and a future that no longer exist. And worst of all, you start to question your judgment. How you couldn’t see all the obvious signs that something wasn’t right.”
I let my head fall back against the seat, rolling my neck to meet his gaze. Ethan’s expression is wary, like he’s worried he revealed too much. A sense of camaraderie falls over me. It’s as if he’s voicing everything I felt in the aftermath of Brandon. I feel seen, understood. I suspect he doesn’t reveal this side of himself often, and being entrusted with his vulnerability is a precious gift.
“Should we go to the wedding?” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.
Ethan huffs a laugh. “As much as I would enjoy seeing the look on her face if I showed up with a stunning woman on my arm, I think I’ll be nice and let them have their day.”
My cheeks warm. Am I the stunning woman he’s referring to, or was he speaking more abstractly?
A spark of bravery lights within me, and I decide to push against the boundary. “Darn. We could’ve made out in thechurch. Now,thatwould ruin the wedding.” I end on a giggle so it comes off as humorous despite my pulse having picked up speed at the thought of kissing Ethan.
His playful eyes shift into a darkened stare as they drop to my lips.
The cabin of the truck compresses, closing us off from the outside world. A sanctuary where only we exist. Us and this moment.
I lean forward. Or maybe he does.
“Marisa,” Ethan whispers.
“Hmm,” I sigh, getting lost in the flecks of gold in his eyes.
“Do you remember last Saturday when we were leaving the bar?”
My heart jumps, and I rear back slightly. “No. Why?”
“You— We— You almost?—”
