Chapter32 She loves you
Chloe
The morning I'd changed into a white blouse and dark jeans—simple, practical, the kind of outfit I used to wear when my whole wardrobe fit in a single duffel bag. It felt strange now, like slipping back into an older version of myself.
Julian was already at the table when I came downstairs, dressed in a charcoal sweater. He looked up as I entered, and something warm moved through his expression.
"You look beautiful," he said, pulling out my chair.
"It's just jeans."
"I know." His fingers brushed the back of my neck as he pushed in the chair, and I felt the warmth of it long after he'd moved away.
The housekeeper had laid out a full brunch—poached eggs, fresh bread, fruit arranged like something out of a magazine. Julian poured my orange juice himself, unhurried, like we had all the time in the world.
Then his phone started buzzing.
Once. Twice. Three times.
He glanced at the screen, and I watched his expression shift—the warmth draining out, replaced by something harder and more calculating.
"London acquisition," he said, setting the phone face-down. "Legal team wants me on a call in an hour."
"You should take it."
"I promised you today." His hand moved across the table and covered mine. "I'll have Marcus handle it."
The phone rang again. A real call this time. He declined it without looking.
"Julian." I squeezed his hand until he met my eyes. "It's okay. I'll be fine on my own."
"I want to be there with you."
"I know." I took a breath. "But honestly? The whole point of the coffee shop job is proving I can stand on my own two feet."
He stared at me for a long moment. Then, slowly, a reluctant smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. "When did you get so wise?"
"Probably around the time I married a workaholic CEO."
He laughed—a real one that reached his eyes—and brought my hand to his lips. "Text me when you get there. Text me when it's done. And if you need anything—"
"I'll call. I promise."
His phone rang again. He didn't decline it this time, just held my gaze for another moment before standing. He leaned down and kissed me—slow and thorough—then straightened and answered the call as he walked toward his study.
"Marcus, what's the situation?"
His voice faded down the hallway. I sat with my half-eaten breakfast and the strange mixture of relief and disappointment settling in my chest.
Ethan appeared in the doorway a few minutes later, hair damp, wearing his UCLA hoodie. He headed straight for the coffee pot without saying good morning.
"Where's Julian?" he asked.
"Work emergency. London deal."
He dropped into the chair across from me, wrapping both hands around his mug. "So it's just us today?"
"Looks like it." I was about to mention the coffee shop interview when my phone buzzed. A number I recognized immediately—Cedars-Sinai.
I answered before the second ring.
"Ms. Harrison?" A nurse's voice, gentle and practiced. "I wanted to let you know your mother has been a little down today. She's been asking for you. If you're able to visit this afternoon, I think it would really help."
My hand tightened around the phone. Two weeks. It had been almost two weeks since I'd been to the hospital, the longest gap since she was admitted.
I'd told myself it was because my schedule had been impossible, because I didn't know how to explain the marriage, because I needed more time to figure out what to say.
All of it true. None of it good enough.
"I'll be there this morning," I said. "Thank you for calling."
When I hung up, Ethan was watching me. He already knew from my expression.
"Your mom?" he asked.
"She's been asking for me." The guilt sat heavy in my chest. "I need to go."
"I'll drive you." He was already standing, setting down his mug.
I pulled up Julian's text thread and typed quickly: Hospital called about my mom. Going to visit her first, then the coffee shop interview after. Ethan's taking me.
His response came within seconds: Is she okay? I can come with you—Marcus can handle the call.
I almost said yes. The offer was so immediate, so genuine, that for a moment I wanted nothing more than to let him come. But I thought about my mother's face when she saw me walk in with a man she'd never met, a husband I'd never mentioned, and I knew I wasn't ready for that conversation yet.
She's okay, just missing me. You focus on London. I'll text you when I get there.
A pause. Then: All right. But Chloe—if you need me, I'll drop everything. I mean that.
I believed him. That was the terrifying part. I know. Thank you.
One more message: I love you.
I stared at the words for a moment before typing back. When I looked up, Ethan was watching me with an expression I couldn't quite read.
"You ready?" he asked.
---
The drive to Cedars-Sinai was quiet. Ethan kept his eyes on the road, and I kept mine on the passing city—the palm trees and perfect lawns giving way to the busier streets of West Hollywood.
"You're going to tell her?" Ethan broke the silence somewhere on the 101. "About the marriage?"
"I don't know yet."
His hands tightened on the wheel. "She'll find out eventually."
"I know." I pressed my fingertips against the cold window glass. "I just don't know how to explain it without making her feel like it's her fault. Like I did this because of her."
"Didn't you?"
The question landed like a stone. I didn't answer, because we both already knew the answer, and saying it out loud wouldn't make it easier to walk into that hospital room.
Ethan pulled into the parking structure and killed the engine. We sat in the sudden silence.
"Do you want me to come up?" he asked.
"No." I reached for my purse. "I need to do this alone."
"Okay." He reached over and squeezed my hand once, firm and brief. "I'll be in the cafeteria. Just text."
I got out of the car. The hospital entrance was fifty feet away, automatic doors sliding open and closed as people moved in and out, carrying flowers and takeout containers and the particular exhaustion of people who'd been there too long.
I stood on the sidewalk for a moment, breathing in exhaust and antiseptic-tinged air, trying to organize the words I hadn't found yet.
Behind me, I heard Ethan's window roll down. "Hey."
I turned.
"Whatever you decide to tell her," he said, "she loves you. That doesn't change."
I nodded, not trusting my voice, and turned back toward the entrance.
The automatic doors slid open. I walked through them, and the cool hospital air closed around me like a held breath.