“Sit down.”
She complied, sinking into a chair by the table in the eat-in kitchen. It was round and obviously secondhand, the surface pockmarked and lined with scratches. Nora found herself tracing the grooves because it gave her hands something to do. But less than a minute later Ethan placed a mug of coffee before her. No questions, no more attempts at conversation. He just set the steaming mug down and turned back to the counter where he was chopping vegetables and whisking eggs.
They had gone on a date. Once. And Nora had liked it, had liked him, but things were complicated with Tiffany and Everlee, and even though Donovan had already entered the picture, Nora felt responsible for her girls. No, not her girls. Anyway, it was messy. A brief but passionate kiss had fizzled into nothingness and now they were coworkers and friends, nothing more. But, sometimes . . . Nora watched Ethan working and was startled to find that though she was falling apart at the seams, though she was dirty and weary and scared, she felt safe here. She felt safe with him.
When the omelette was done, Ethan cut it down the middle with a spatula and slid the two halves onto mismatched plates. “Salt and pepper?” he asked. “Tabasco? Salsa? Ketchup?”
“Just salt and pepper,” Nora said.
“Perfect.” He snagged the condiments in one hand and managed to balance the two plates in his other. “Knives and forks are in front of you,” Ethan said as he put one plate in front of her.
“Thanks.”
Ethan sat down and smothered his eggs in Tabasco. Reaching for utensils from the wire container at the center of the table, he fixed Nora with a level gaze. “I’m happy to make you breakfast, but I need to know: Are you okay?”
“Fine.” Nora hoped she sounded breezy, casual, but her hand shook a little as she reached for her own utensils.
“You’re not a very good liar,” Ethan told her.
“That’s funny. I’ve been told I’m a great liar.” She took a bite of her omelette and had to suppress a moan. “This is so good.”
“Thanks. And, for the record, you’re a terrible liar.”
They ate in silence for a few minutes, Ethan making quick work of his plate and then settling back to sip his coffee and study Nora. She felt self-conscious beneath his gaze, exposed. Running a hand over her forehead, she forced a laugh. “I’m a wreck, aren’t I?”
He didn’t say anything.
“Are you giving me the silent treatment?”
Ethan shrugged. “Just waiting to see if you’ll come clean or if you’re going to keep pretending that everything’s fine.” He put a wry, one-handed air quote around fine and took another swig of his coffee.
Nora studied her eggs, running through every possible scenario. She and Tiffany had agreed that no one could know, no one could ever know because it would jeopardize everything. But then, Tiff hadn’t exactly stuck to the plan. And now what was Nora supposed to do? Tiffany had run off, presumably stolen Donovan’s money, left Nora to pick up the pieces . . . It was more than she could handle. And, like it or not, there weren’t many people Nora could talk to. Could trust. She’d given up so many things for Tiffany and Everlee—including friends.
“I’ll tell you what I can,” she said eventually.
“Good enough for me. You done? Let’s sit somewhere more comfortable.”
Taking off in the direction of a small living room, Ethan motioned for her to follow. Their brief fling hadn’t brought Nora inside of his apartment, and she couldn’t help but analyze it now. Ethan’s rooms in an upscale, newly finished complex were neat and spare, as clean-cut and warm as he was. The couch and matching love seat were a homey corduroy in teddy-bear brown, but the rest of the decor had an exotic flair. There were carved wooden animals and a batik that set off one wall with striking primary hues. A horn of some kind. An intricately woven basket. He had told her once that he loved to travel. Nora didn’t realize that he meant internationally.
“Gorgeous,” Nora said, studying what appeared to be an authentic Venetian mask. “Where did you get this?”
“Venice.”
“Really?” Nora was nervous, hardly even aware that she was making small talk. That they were discussing things so inconsequential they didn’t matter at all. “I’ve never been to Europe.”
“It’s beautiful,” he told her. “Avoid Paris, London, and Rome. You’d like Majorca. Warm beaches, blue water, friendly people.” He paused, considering. “Or maybe Istria would be more your style.”
“Istria?”
“Croatia.”
“Oh.” Suddenly Nora felt as if she were in the living room of a stranger instead of the man she spent nearly every day with. What did she really know about Ethan Holloway? Single, barista, part-time grad student. What was he studying again? Literature of some sort. She was almost sure of that. Nora felt herself warm with an uncharacteristic blush and quickly took another sip of her coffee. Clearly she was falling all to pieces. It pissed her off.
“Sorry.” Ethan laughed, waving a hand in front of him as if to dismiss his own travel recommendations. “Listen to me. I’m intolerable. If I had a slide projector I’d make you sit through at least a thousand pictures.”
“Sounds fascinating.”
“Now you’re making fun of me.” But he didn’t seem to mind.
“I just didn’t know you were so . . .” She cast about, looking for just the right word.
“Geeky?” Ethan offered helpfully. “Boring? Banal?”
“Global.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Nora Sanford.”
And for some reason, she felt her eyes burn with sudden tears.
“Hey . . .” Ethan put down his coffee and slid closer to where Nora had sunk into a corner of the comfy love seat. There was an end table between them, but Ethan leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. He regarded her earnestly, compassionately. A part of her wished that his expression wasn’t so damned fraternal. Since when had she become the damsel in distress? It wasn’t her. It never had been.
Nora brushed at her eyes with the heel of her hands and forced a derisive laugh. “I’m fine, Ethan. Totally fine.”
“I thought we were past that.”
“It’s a long story.”
“I’m listening.”