We barely know each other, but I can't remember the last time I felt this normal, like I could just be myself without calculating every word. You can be yourself with me always. Even when myself is kind of a controlling workaholic who probably needs therapy, even then, as long as you can handle that I'm a broke mechanic who has panic attacks about bank statements. Deal. They started paddling again, following the shoreline north.
Viven told him about growing up as the daughter of a self-made millionaire. The pressure to be perfect. The moment she'd realized her father was dying and everything he'd built would fall on her shoulders. Ethan told her about finding his dad under that impala, about marrying Laura because it seemed like the next logical step, about the moment Sophie was born, and he'd understood that nothing else in his life would ever matter as much. They capsized once when Vivien tried to take a selfie and leaned too far.
"The water was cold enough to make them both yelp, and they swam the kayak back to shore, laughing like teenagers. "Your jacket's ruined," Ethan said, ringing water from his shirt. "It's just a jacket. " Vivien shook her hair out, water droplets catching the sunlight. "I have 12 more. " "Of course you do. " They returned the kayak and drove back to Seattle. As the sun started its descent toward the Olympics, Ethan's hands were confident on the wheel now, the Jaguar responding to his touch like they'd been driving together for years.
I'm starving, Vivien said. Please tell me you know somewhere good. Define good. Food that won't give me food poisoning and atmosphere that doesn't involve white tablecloths. I know a place.
He took her to a Thai restaurant in Ballard, the kind of spot where the menu was in both English and Thai. And the owner's grandmother was usually yelling at someone in the kitchen. They sat at a wobbly table near the window and ordered too much food. "This is perfect," Vivian said around a mouthful of pad thai. "Why do rich people insist on making everything complicated?
This is what food should be. You're preaching to the choir. They ate until they couldn't move. " Splitting a mango sticky rice for dessert that Vivien declared better than anything she'd had at Michelin starred restaurants. The sun was setting by the time they left, painting Seattle's streets in gold and orange. Ethan drove them back toward his neighborhood, feeling the day winding down and not wanting it to end.
When he pulled up outside his building, Vivien made no move to switch seats. So, she said, "So, this was a good second date. Technically third. The diner was the second. " Fair point. She unbuckled her seat belt and turned to face him.
I had fun. Actual fun. Not business dinner pretending to have fun. Me, too. Even the capsizing part.
Especially the capsizing part. She reached over and took his hand, her fingers still slightly cold from the water. I want to keep doing this, whatever this is, even though I'm broke and have a kid and my life is basically held together with duct tape and hope. Even though maybe because of it. She squeezed his hand.
You're real, Ethan. Everything in my world is carefully managed and strategically planned. You're just real. You should say something smooth, something romantic. Instead, what came out was, "I really want to kiss you right now. " Viven laughed.
"So, do it. " He did. It was awkward at first. The car was cramped. The gear shift was in the way. And they bumped noses once before getting the angle right.
But then it wasn't awkward at all. It was warm and real and tasted like mango and possibility. When they finally pulled apart, Viven was smiling. Okay, that was worth waiting for. Yeah, definitely.
Yeah. They sat there for a moment, foreheads touching, breathing the same air. Then Vivien's phone rang, shattering the moment. She pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and sighed. I have to take this.
It's Singapore at 8:00 p.m. On a Sunday. International markets don't care about weekends, remember? She answered the call. This is Vivien Hart.
Her expression shifted immediately. All business, sharp and focused. She listened for a moment, then said something in what sounded like Mandarin. Ethan couldn't understand the words, but he could hear the authority in her tone. She hung up a minute later, looking tired.
I'm sorry. The the acquisition I told you about. There's a problem with the contracts. I need to get home and get on a video call. No worries.
I'll grab an Uber back to my truck. Don't be ridiculous. I'll drive you. She slid into the driver's seat and Ethan moved to the passenger side, but I might need to drop you off and run. Totally fine.
Go save your empire. She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. Some empire. Can't even make it through a Sunday without a crisis. They drove in silence.
The easy comfort from earlier replaced by something heavier. When she pulled up next to his truck in the marina parking lot, Vivien kept the engine running. "Thank you for today," she said. "I mean it. I needed this. " "Me, too. " He unbuckled his seat belt, hesitating.
"Can I see you again? " "Like soon. " "How about Wednesday? There's an event I have to go to. Corporate fundraiser thing. It'll be boring and full of people I can't stand, but maybe it'll be better if you're there. Ethan's stomach dropped.
"Is this a black tie thing? " "Unfortunately, but you don't have to wear a tux. A suit is fine. " "Viven, I don't own a suit. " She blinked. "Oh, right. Well, we can. I'm not showing up to your corporate event in khakis and a button-down.
That's not fair to you. I don't care what you wear, but everyone else will. They'll look at me and see exactly what I am. Someone who doesn't belong. Ethan, I should go.
You've got your call. He opened the door, suddenly desperate to be out of the car. Thanks for today. It was great. Wait.