Chapter 8

MAY. I wake up feeling somewhat...giddy, and it definitely has nothing to do with the fact that Ethan's home. It's totally because it's the weekend and I get a day off. I'm parading the house earlier than usual, doing a cleaning routine. Having cleaned up Anna's home the entire time, it's drilled into me to begin the day like this. And just because I'm feeling extra perky, I enter the kitchen with the hopes of preparing breakfast for the two of us. Not trying to be a wife or anything. He can eat it if he wants to, or not. I stride into the kitchen, stopping short as I look around. Right. There's not much in here. No groceries, and barely enough accessories. Making breakfast and dinner had been a little tedious. Oof. I'm going to need to go shopping. Make this house look less...vacant. Ethan probably doesn't need these things. He barely even has time to return home from his meetings. Eating out must be his go-to. I do a rough estimate of the things I need...and it's way more than I have on me at the moment. Might need to borrow some from Ginny. Throwing some clothes on and arranging my hair doesn't take much time. I'm not someone who cares very much for her physical appearance. Never have been. A shirt and a pair of pants and I'm good to go. I'm passing by Ethan's door when it suddenly creaks and he steps out. My breath catches. His eyelids are heavy and his hair is ruffled, falling over his face in a way that would put the male models on the magazines out of business. Upon seeing me, he straightens. "I thought I heard you moving about." He gives me a once-over. "You're up early." This isn't early for me, but he doesn't know that. "Yeah, I'll be stepping out for a moment." "You work on the weekends?" "No. I'm ah...going to get groceries. I want to...prepare breakfast. And for later as well. So you--we don't have to eat out." He pauses, leaning back against the doorframe and I can't help but notice the way his muscles bunch up when he reclines. He has on a maroon singlet and literally everything is on display. He's effortlessly stunning. He doesn't even have to try. He looks like a freakin' model; every movement is a striking pose. The man could be brooding and still look like heaven. How on earth did I land this jock of a man? He looks confused. "Why? We could order takeout if—" "Will we order takeout every day? For every meal? You have that much money to throw away?" My words come out sharper than I intend to and he jerks like I've slapped him across the cheek. I thought he'd look forward to a homemade meal for once, but he just acted like it was nothing, and it got to me more than Sean throwing away the meals I cooked for him just 'cause he was mad. I'd never gotten mad at Sean like this. Ethan straightens. "I didn't mean it like that." My cheeks are hot with embarrassment, and something stings painfully in my eyes. I'm not about to cry. I'm definitely not about to cry. May! What is wrong with you?! "You prefer to eat out, cool! Do that! I'll just make my meals myself. Can I at least use your kitchen to do that?!" Ethan swallows. "May, could you calm—" "Don't tell me to calm down!" I snap. Something flickers in Ethan's grey eyes and he lets out an exasperating sigh. "How much do you need?" A small sound escapes my throat and I glare at him. "Nothing. Have a great day." I start to leave but he calls out, "May?" I whirl around. "What?" He holds out something in his big hands. "You left this in my shower." My gaze drops to his hand and I see a clasp and...Shit. I lunge forward, heat creeping up my neck and I take my bra from him. "Sorry." My anger is totally gone, replaced only with embarrassment and shame. I hadn't even noticed I'd left it behind. And I never noticed how small my boobs were. The bra had disappeared in his hands! 'Stop thinking about his hands, May,' I chide myself as I flee to my room. **** "It's nothing, really," I say, pulling the shopping bags behind me. Ethan asked me if he needed to come along but I'd feigned anger and declined, just because I couldn't imagine sharing the same space with him after this morning. I couldn't stop wondering what he thought of my cup size. Heavens. "Need me to come over there and talk to him?" Anna asks for the third time. She's worried about me. I spoke to her the entire way here, ranting about heaven knows what. I just needed someone to talk to, and Ginny wasn't an option. She'd probably advise me to tie him to the bed and get knocked up or something. "No no. I just needed an outlet for my frustration. Thank you. It wasn't a bad argument. It wasn't even an argument, considering he didn't speak a word...why doesn't he ever speak up?!" I yell again, dropping the bags and fumbling for my keys. "He just stares. Never gets mad. Never speaks to me unless he needs to. Am I appalling?" "May?" Anna says and it sounds like she's laughing. I pause. "Are you laughing at me?" "No," Anna says, even though I can clearly hear her laughing. "You're nagging. That's new." I pull out my keys and unlock the door. "I'm not..." My voice trails off and I go perfectly still, staring inside my home. Staring at Ethan. "Anna, I'll call you back." I end the call and stare right ahead. Ethan's...dancing. He's in a pair of briefs and... that's all he's wearing. The volume of the music is cranked up to the highest volume and he doesn't hear me enter or shut the door behind me. He's singing along and I watch him, aghast. He dances well, but I've never seen anything so hilarious. The movement of his hips, like he's mimicking Michael Jackson, and in those briefs...oh my God. I burst out laughing before I even realize it and Ethan swivels, sighting me by the door. I'm not sure what I found more charming: his blush or his hands moving to cover his midriff. He turns off the music and walks off to his room without another word. My stomach hurts and I can't stop laughing. "I didn't think you'd be back early," he mutters when he returns to the sitting room fully clothed. He has a stern expression plastered on his face, but after watching him dance, I don't think I'll ever see him as 'stern' anymore. "Hmm-hmm." My lips twitch. "I don't..." He coughs. "I don't do that very often." "I bet you don't." He lets out a sharp smile. "Could you stop laughing?" No, I can't. "Sure," I say anyway, taking out the things from the grocery bag. "There's no need to be shy. We're married." "I'm not... shy," he grits out and turns away suddenly. "I'm going out. I'll be back in a couple of minutes." In those flip-flops? I don't ask. He's leaving the house to avoid me, because he's shy. His cheeks and his ears are red and he won't look me in the eye. "Sure. Take your time."