Chapter 39 You Only Have Me
I turned to face him, studying his profile in the dim light.
"For Labor Day weekend?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.
He nodded, his eyes meeting mine. "Richard insists on a family gathering."
I smiled, trying to keep my voice light. "You should go. Don't worry about me. I have that design portfolio submission to complete, and I won't be lonely." I meant it—or at least, I was trying to mean it. The last thing I wanted was to be the needy girlfriend who couldn't survive a weekend alone.
Ethan's hand stilled on my shoulder. "Liv, I want you to come with me."
My heart dropped. "Please don't," I said quickly, sitting up and pulling the sheet around me. "Don't put me in that position."
His eyes narrowed slightly. "What position?"
"Your family knows I used to date Blake," I said, avoiding his gaze. "I'd rather not walk into that minefield." I didn't add that his parents had reportedly been furious when they found out about us, or that his mother had once tried to visit Oakwood Estate to meet me, only to be blocked by Ethan.
"You should go tomorrow," I continued, smoothing the sheet across my lap. "Stay overnight. Spend time with your parents."
He watched me for a long moment before nodding once. "If that's what you want."
"It is," I said, though something in my chest tightened at the thought of the empty apartment.
---
I was curled up on the sofa the next afternoon, watching a documentary about sustainable fashion when the doorbell rang. Frowning, I paused the screen and padded to the door.
Ethan stood in the hallway, several paper bags in his hands, his tie loosened and jacket draped over one arm.
"You're back," I blurted, unable to hide my surprise.
He stepped inside, setting the bags on the counter. "I brought dinner. From that Thai place you mentioned wanting to try."
I blinked at him, confused. "But... your family. The gathering."
Ethan shrugged, the gesture somehow elegant on him. "Hannah and my mother are thick as thieves. Nathan is my father's favorite. They hardly need me there." He moved closer, his hand finding my waist. "You only have me."
Those four simple words hit me like a physical force. _You only have me_. I thought of all the times in my life when I'd had no one—when I'd pretended not to mind being alone on holidays while my classmates went home to full houses and festive meals.
My grandparents had raised me, sacrificing to put me through school. I'd always felt I couldn't ask for more, couldn't be a burden. They weren't my parents; they had no obligation to care for me.
For as long as I could remember, I'd thought of others first—what they needed, what would make things easier for them. I never fought for what I wanted. If someone offered, I accepted gratefully. If they didn't, I went without.
Even yesterday, when Ethan mentioned going home for the holiday, I hadn't shown a flicker of disappointment. I'd encouraged him to stay overnight, to spend more time with his family.
And now he'd come back. For me.
My eyes stung with sudden tears. "Ethan. Thank you for coming back."
He pulled me against his chest, one hand stroking my back. "Don't cry," he murmured. "At least, not now."
His comment broke through my emotion, making me laugh even as tears clung to my lashes. "Crying has requirements now?"
His eyes darkened. "I only want to see you cry in bed."
"You're terrible," I said, smacking his chest lightly, but I couldn't hide my smile.
---
Later that evening, Ethan led me up to the building's rooftop terrace. Walter had arranged an elaborate dinner: six premium king crabs alongside various sides and accompaniments, all laid out on a private table tucked into a secluded corner.
I struggled with my first crab leg, the shell splintering and jabbing my finger. "Ouch," I muttered, sucking the spot where a tiny drop of blood appeared.
Ethan immediately took my hand, examining the small wound before raising it to his lips. "Let me," he said, taking the crab from me. I watched, mesmerized, as his strong fingers deftly cracked and extracted the meat, placing a perfect morsel on my plate.
"Try now," he instructed.
The sweet, delicate flavor burst on my tongue. "Amazing," I sighed.
"More?" he asked, already working on the next piece. "You eat. I'll serve."
There was something both domineering and tender in the way he insisted on doing this for me. I couldn't remember the last time someone had taken such care with my comfort.
We clinked glasses under the stars. "Happy holiday," he said softly.
"Happy holiday," I echoed, studying his face in the moonlight.
---
After dinner, we descended to the garden level where a small, secluded pool area lay empty. I settled onto a lounger with Ethan behind me, his arms around my waist as we shared dessert Walter had prepared.
"The moon looks perfect tonight," I murmured, leaning back against him. "My grandfather used to say, 'People come and go, joy and sorrow follow each other, just as the moon waxes and wanes.' Beautiful things don't last forever."
Ethan's arms tightened around me. "Liv," he said, his voice low and serious against my ear. "If you want, we can do this year after year. Just like this."
I smiled but didn't answer, focusing instead on the bright disk of the moon. He couldn't possibly mean that. Men like Ethan Bennett didn't build futures with girls like me. I was temporary—a diversion, a conquest. Our arrangement had an expiration date.
---
Two days later, I received an email from the department chair requesting my presence at the administrative building that afternoon.
I pushed open the door, then froze.
Sitting at the table was a woman I'd never met but instantly recognized—elegant, poised, with the same piercing eyes as her son. Ethan's mother.