Silence between us again. It’s not comfortable this time. My words, spoken harshly in defense earlier, seem to hang between us. No expectations or designs. Just friends.
“But that’s all right,” she adds, like the silence is too much to bear. “I’d like to be friends, too.”
“Good,” I say. “Awesome.”
The padding of feet is the only warning before Haven throws herself at my legs. “Are they done?” she asks Bella. “It’s been forever.”
Bella’s face is wiped clean of any tension, her eyes serene as she gazes down at my daughter. I watch through a daze as they inspect the brownies, as they take them out from the oven, even as I obligingly ooh and aah at the finished result. And when Bella leaves soon thereafter, giving Haven a high five and promising to return some other day, there’s only one thought left.
I’ve blown everything.
7
Bella
So he wanted to be just friends.
The memory alone is enough to make my cheeks scald. Had my awestruck interest been that obvious to him, that he felt he had to tell me that?
I suppose he must be used to it, though. A man like Ethan Carter probably has women throwing themselves at him daily, if not for his money than for his status. Or for his looks—they’re quite enough in their own right. He’s a catch in every imaginable way.
“Bella?” my brother asks. “Are you even listening?”
“Yes, I’m sorry.”
A sigh. “I can’t wait until you’re done with your thesis and actually get back down to earth,” he says. “You’re always off somewhere else at the moment.”
I step onto the patio and into the late afternoon sun. This garden truly is something to behold—I’d give up the house gladly as long as I had access to this kind of paradise daily. “I’m just a bit distracted.”
“That’s what I mean.” Wyatt sighs again. “And you’re sure I can’t come stay in that massive house of yours? I don’t get why I can’t. I’d be in that pool daily.”
It hurts to stay firm, but I do it. “You know why I said no. No one else is staying over, either. Wilma and Trina aren’t.”
“But I’m your brother.”
Yes, and with a habit of always bringing his friends around, of breaking vases, of leaving a trail of Cheetos dust in his wake…
“I’m not allowed to have stay-over guests,” I say firmly. “It’s explicitly stated in the agreement I signed.”
“They’d never know.”
“You don’t think a place like this has cameras and stuff?” I stop at the edge of the pool and dip my bare toes into the water. Cool and lovely.
“You’re such a bore, Bella,” Wyatt complains. “If I had a mansion for the summer, I’d invite you to stay for as long as you’d like.”
He’s playing on my conscience now. My little brother is excellent at doing that. “Stop it,” I tell him. “I’ve already told you no, and explained my reasons. It’s not personal. I’m like… like a steward here. And I can’t screw it up. Besides, you have a place to stay.”
“Fine.” Wyatt’s sigh across the line is flippant now. “I get it, I get it.”
Sure he does. “Good. But you know you’re welcome to visit on occasion. Just you, though.”
“I know. Thanks.”
Something moves in my peripheral vision. No, someone. Ethan is in the oak tree again. He’s not alone this time, as a second man sits higher up in an adjacent tree.
Ethan gives a wave.
“Bella?” Wyatt asks.
“Yes, I’m still here. Sorry, but I have to go.”
“Is your thesis calling?” Kyle teases. Now that he’s asked his question, again, and I’ve told him no, again, the tension is gone between us.
When he visited last week for dinner, he’d walked around and marveled, going so far as to open closets in the master bedroom. That was when I’d shoved him down the hallway and pointed at the stairs.
“Yes. Words don’t write themselves, you know.”
“Talk to you later, Bells.”
“Love you.”
“Love you too.”
Slipping the phone into the back pocket of my jean shorts, I head to where Ethan is perched on the bough. A trace of faint humiliation still burns, but I force it down. Surely we can discuss a few nice, neighborly things, like the weather. Just keep it friendly.
I rock back on my heels. “Are you making it a habit? Sitting up there?”
“Better cell phone reception,” he says. “Who knew?”