Chapter 7

MAY. I've been in edge the entire day, and it's only become worse now. My eyes flick to the clock for the umpteenth time. It's two in the morning. Ethan hasn't come home yet. I'm not being a nagging wife right now. I just thought we could talk about everything. Get to know the most basic things about each other. Iron this whole... billionaire thing out. I stay up till 4am before I give up on having this conversation with him. Maybe he doesn't trust me enough to share details about himself yet. There are no emotions and expectations in this. Wouldn't want him to feel like I'm trying to pry, when I'm not. **** When I leave for work a few hours later, powered by serious caffeine, he still isn't home. He doesn't come home in the days that follow, either, and I find myself the only occupant in his huge apartment. Many times, I pick up my phone, tap on his number and the message box. I type in" 'Hey, you alright?', 'Will you come home soon?', 'I made dinner.' But I never end up hitting the send button. They all seem too corny, and frankly, it isn't so bad staying alone in his apartment. **** It's been six days so far, and it's become clear that Ethan has no plans of returning. I groan inwardly as I make my way inside after a long day at work. I start to shut the door behind me when I take note of the pair of flip-flops I leave behind. My gaze travels across. One would only need to take a look to know I'm alone. Scowling, I beeline for Ethan's room. Does he really not care about my safety? What if someone broke in? Twisting the doorknob, I step into his room which smells all too masculine for my senses. I feel my insides clenching from it. He smells so good, and not a single thing is out of place in his room. It feels like I'm exploring an intimate part of his life... Focus May. Get some slippers and stop sniffing the man's bed. Sighing, I pick myself from his huge bed and grab the slippers by his bed. Just in case someone got it into their head to break in, maybe they'd change their minds if they saw another pair of shoes outside. I place them right beside mine outside the door, and when I'm done, I walk around the house, bolting all the entrances and windows Feeling somewhat better and safe, I head into the shower. Ethan's. I know you'll probably think I'm sick in the head, but I prefer Ethan's shower. It's big and has so many products that make my skin feel good. Mine has none, and the faucets are very stiff. Relax. There's no way he'll walk in on me naked again. **** ETHAN. The meetings took longer than I bargained for. I should've told May but I didn't think she cared enough for my whereabouts. She didn't ask, so I didn't tell. I'd had to leave Jared behind, tending to the clients, because Granny wouldn't let me catch a break. She thinks I'm being a horrible husband. Never mind that I don't know how to even be a husband, especially with a woman who doesn't send a message when you're gone for six days. Angry? Of course not. Why would I be? I pause by the door, noting my slippers outside. My eyes narrow. I'm pretty sure I left those by my bed. Is she wearing my things now? But hers are right there. Then I put in my keys and twist the doorknob, only, the door won't give. I frown, trying the other sets of keys I have on me. It takes a moment to realize that it's locked from inside. Something spreads in my chest, and I try to stifle it before it can suffocate me. It's perfectly alright. She must have locked it to feel safe. There's nothing wrong with that. Clenching my fists, I knock. No answer. Again. Still no answer. The hot thing in my chest keeps spreading. I stand by the door, knocking for heavens know how long before I hear the soft padding of feet coming from inside. "Ethan?" May calls out softly. Her voice is soothing. It's the kind you want to hear after a long day. The kind that makes you feel like you're being caressed. My eyes shutter and I swallow. The reason I'd opted for a business meeting this long was to put some distance between my wife and me. Out of sight, out of mind. I'd thought that it would be enough, but clearly, it isn't. I respond and she pulls the door open. Her dark hair is tousled from sleep, and her eyes of dark amber are glassy, almost distant. She blinks before rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand, yawning. My eyes droop further to the pair of pajamas she has on. They're at least, three sizes too big, but somehow...she looks so good in those too. She widens the door. "Sorry...I didn't think you planned on ever coming back home." Her words are slow, but there's a sharpness to them that suggests that... she's mad at me. My head tilts at that. "Why would you think that?" Her lips tug down in a frown. "Do you usually stay away from your home for a whole week, or you're just avoiding me? Can't stand me, is that it?" Her assumptions vex me. Can't stand her? As if. I can't stand the creep I become when I'm around her. I'm constantly thinking things I shouldn't. Things that would make me die from embarrassment if she ever got to know. "No, I was occupied," I say tightly. "I was caught in a meeting." Her eyebrows rise expectantly, and I stifle the rising urge to snap and say instead, "I'm sorry. I'll let you in on my whereabouts next time and be back home on time." Lips pursing, she looks at me, and it feels like her eyes are searching my soul. I look away, unable to hold her gaze, and my gaze snags once more on my flip-flops. "Why..." "Oh!" she laughs nervously, jumping over the threshold to grab it. "I just thought I'd place them here to..." Her voice trails off and she waves her hand. "Don't worry about it. Go in, you must be exhausted." She motions to grab my suitcase, but I jerk when warm fingers graze mine. Damn. It's like the very air between us is charged. She yanks her hand back in a way that tells me she feels it too, and she mutters an apology, staring intently at my flip-flops. Out of nowhere, she says while pointing at the stickers on my slippers, "These are oddly cute. Miraculous? I didn't tag you as someone who watches cartoons." I can't tell if that's a compliment. Do women find men who watch cartoons sexy? I can't tell, but I'd rather keep my image intact in front of her. "Those aren't mine," I lie, stepping into the house. "Pretty sure they are." I walk swiftly to hide the blush creeping up my face from her. "Aren't." "Ethan?" "Hmm?" "Why choose me?" I halt in my steps and turn to meet her gaze. There's confusion and distrust in them. Did something happen when I was gone? "We've had this conversation." A pause. "Is something wrong?" She bites on her lower lip, and the action has my heart racing. "My friend, Ginny, showed me the pricing for this house. It's way more than I will ever be able to afford. I have nothing to give you. Why choose to marry me? I have nothing to my name. I don't just understand why." She's wary of me. I don't like that. It was silly of me to hide the truth from her, all for a test. I contemplate telling her everything, but I rule that out. I don't want her to feel uncomfortable around me, or in our home. I don't want her feeling like she's walking on eggshells here. Against my better judgment, I say, "I don't pay the rent. It's covered by the company. It's a few thousand, nothing extravagant." Not entirely a lie. It wasn't anything extravagant, not for me at least. "But the pricing was in billi—" "May," I cut in and her lips purse. "Trust me." She observes me for a moment before releasing a shaky breath. "Sure. Need to get back in bed. Busy day tomorrow. Goodnight." "Goodnight," I mutter and watch her retreat to her room. Not a woman of many words, I suppose. I can't tell if that's good or bad. I can't tell if she believed me either. May's a little hard to read. A couple of minutes later, I'm entering my bathroom when something soft sort of slaps me in the face. That's odd. I don't keep clothes on the hangar beside my door. I glance up and...is that a bra?