Isn't it? You're offering me contracts, buying me suits, loaning you money for a suit, and the contract is business, not charity? Morrison would have told me if your shop couldn't handle the work. She cupped his face with both hands. I'm not trying to fix you, Ethan.
I'm trying to be with you. There's a difference. What if I screw this up? What if I'm not enough? Then we'll deal with it.
But I'm tired of being afraid of what might happen. I want to try with you. He kissed her then, tasting champagne and lipstick and the kind of honesty that only came from people who'd stopped pretending. When they finally pulled apart, both breathing hard, Viven was smiling. "Take me home," she said.
Your place or mine? Mine. I want you to see where I actually live, not just where I work. She directed him to a high-rise in Belltown, one of those glass and steel towers that scraped the Seattle sky. The parking garage was all concrete and security cameras, and Ethan felt distinctly out of place parking the Jaguar between a Tesla and a Porsche.
The elevator required a key card to access the penthouse level. They rode up in silence, Vivien leaning against him, her head on his shoulder. Fair warning, she said as the doors opened directly into her apartment. "It's not exactly homey. " "That was an understatement. The penthouse was all floor toseeiling windows and modern furniture that looked expensive and uncomfortable.
The view of Seattle's skyline was stunning, but the space felt cold, unlived in. " "You're right," Ethan said. "This isn't homey. I'm never here long enough to make it homey. I sleep, shower, change clothes, and go back to work. She walked to the windows, looking out at the city.
I bought it because my realtor said it was a good investment. I've lived here 3 years, and I still don't know my neighbors. Ethan joined her at the window. That's depressing. I know.
You should get plants or something. Art on the walls. Maybe some photos. I have art. It came with the staging when I bought the place.
That doesn't count as art. That's just expensive wallpaper. She laughed. You sound like Sophie. Sophie's smart.
They stood at the window looking out at the city lights and Ethan wrapped his arm around her waist. She leaned into him and for a moment everything was quiet except the distant hum of traffic far below. "I don't want this," Vivian said quietly. "The apartment, this life, working 80 hours a week, coming home to empty rooms, measuring success by quarterly earnings. " She turned to face him. I want what you have.
Sophie waiting for you at home. Your sister checking in. A life that's messy and real and actually matters. My life is barely held together by good intentions and duct tape. I know, but at least it's a life.
This is just existing. Ethan pulled her close, feeling her heartbeat against his chest. So change it. It's not that simple. Why not?
Because the company needs me. The board, the employees, the shareholders. What about what you need? She didn't answer, just buried her face against his shoulder. They stood like that for a long time.
Two people from completely different worlds trying to figure out if the space between them could ever actually close. Stay tonight, Vivien said finally. Please. I don't want to be alone. Okay.