Chapter 157 You’ll Find Out Tonight
Author's POV:
Ethan Bennett wore a smile that wasn’t really a smile—more a slow, sharp curve tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Alexander Fuller stood beside him, cigarette glowing in the dim light of the private ferry cabin.
“There’s gonna be a major reshuffle later this year,” Alexander said quietly. “Top-level. The board is changing hands. You need to sit still for now. Don’t alert the wrong people.”
Ethan tapped ash off his cigarette with a single flick. His posture remained loose, almost lazy, but something in his eyes sharpened.
Alexander continued, “Honestly? You didn’t need to provoke the Sullivan family. Even without their support, the Pearsons won’t be able to hold their position much longer.”
Ethan let out a faint, humorless laugh. “I don’t gamble on probability.”
Alexander stared. “I thought you said you weren’t picking a side.”
“There’s no such thing as absolute,” Ethan murmured, cigarette between his teeth.
Alexander’s brows lifted. “Don’t tell me this is because of…her.”
Ethan didn’t confirm.
He didn’t deny.
—
The ferry was entirely Ethan’s. He’d rented the whole vessel without thinking twice, letting it drift for over two hours along the river. Manhattan glowed like a crown in the distance while the sky hung low and heavy.
By the time they docked, Olivia’s legs felt unsteady. She stepped onto the pier and wobbled, like the wood beneath her was a sponge.
Before she could recover, Ethan scooped her off her feet with one swift motion. One hand hooked behind her knees, the other bracing her back as if she weighed no more than mist.
Olivia gasped as the ground vanished, arms flying instinctively around his neck. “Ethan—people are looking! Put me down!”
He pressed her head against his shoulder. “Hide your face. Then no one sees you.”
She huffed against his collarbone, half embarrassed, half amused. Then—unable to help herself—she bit him.
Right on the shoulder.
He froze for half a breath before chuckling under it. “Bold.”
She lifted her head and bit him again—this time on his neck. Hard. A clear imprint bloomed against his skin.
He sucked in a slow breath. His pulse jumped directly beneath her teeth.
A light rain began to fall, catching in her eyelashes. Their helicopter ride had been canceled because of the weather, but Ethan didn’t seem disappointed. He tightened his hold and walked her toward the waiting SUV.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
He didn’t answer.
But the moment they got out again, Olivia knew.
The Brooklyn Bridge stretched before them in the rain.
—
Fine mist settled over the bridge, turning every light into a gold halo. The wooden planks glistened cold beneath their feet. The steel cables rose around them like the ribs of a cathedral.
Ethan opened a black umbrella and wrapped an arm around Olivia, pulling her securely beneath it. She linked her arm with his, leaning into his warmth as they walked.
Her voice came soft, barely above the patter of rain. “This reminds me of a poem.”
He glanced down at her. “Which one?”
“Thomas Hardy.” She stepped forward, reciting quietly, “We stood by a pond that winter day… the sun was white as though chidden of God.”
Ethan’s attention didn’t leave her face.
“It’s about love ending,” she explained. “How a cold afternoon becomes frozen in your memory. How disappointment circles back to that one moment—gray eyes, gray water. The day something dies.”
The rain fell harder for a moment, ringing softly against the planks.
Ethan’s fingers tightened around hers until his knuckles whitened. “You think about endings often?”
“Sometimes,” she admitted. “Hardy wrote his best love poems after his wife died. Sometimes you only understand feelings when it’s too late.”
His throat moved with a hard swallow. “Don’t say that.”
“Say what?”
“Don’t talk like you’re going to disappear.” He turned, pulling her against his chest, voice rough. “Olivia, I’m not losing you. I won’t.”
Her eyes softened. She rested her cheek against him.
But the way he held her—tight, almost painful—said he didn’t feel reassured.
He held her like she was the last thing anchoring him.
—
He did protect her.
But he didn’t keep her.
He didn’t know that yet.
And he didn’t know that five years later—after everything broke apart, he’d return at midnight every July 7th, in the rain, waiting for someone who would never come.
Year after year.
Rain after rain.
As if he was trying to rewrite the ending through sheer will.
—
When Olivia later thought about her final year of college, it blurred into one messy, frantic streak.
After New York, reality snapped back violently.
She drowned in coursework.
Final exams.
Rehearsals.
Deadlines.
Meanwhile Ethan was rarely in the country—stabilizing the Southeast Asia market, traveling constantly. He’d disappear for a week, sometimes two, sometimes longer.
The day she finished her last exam, her phone buzzed.
Ethan.
“Are you home?” she asked, still breathless from her last test. “I just finished.”
“I wanted to come yesterday,” he said, “but something came up.”
“I’m not upset.”
His voice dropped lower, smoke-rough. “I missed you.”
Olivia’s cheeks warmed instantly. “Why? We’ve been together two years. Aren’t you tired of me?”
The click of a lighter sounded through the line, followed by his quiet laugh. “You’ll find out tonight.”
She hung up before her heartbeat gave her away.
But she didn’t even make it to tonight.
The moment Ethan stepped through the door, he pulled her into him, kissing her like he’d been gone for years.
—
She didn’t remember how they reached the bathroom—only the cold marble counter beneath her, Ethan’s hands anchoring her hips, his mouth trailing fire along her jaw.
He kissed her until she was trembling, until she had to grip his shoulders just to breathe.
When he finally slowed, foreheads touching, breaths mixing, he asked, “Did you miss me?”
Her voice came out small and honest. “Yes.”
His answering smile softened in a way that made her chest ache. “Good. Because I missed you.”
Steam filled the shower. Their silhouettes blurred together against the fogged glass.
—
Later, Olivia lay face‑down on the bed, skin warm and oversensitive. Ethan knelt beside her, applying ointment with gentle hands.
She hid under the blanket, mortified.
His phone rang before he could tease her. He answered as he stepped out onto the balcony.
Olivia slid off the bed, dressing quickly before sitting at the vanity. Her reflection was flushed, hair messy, breath still unsteady.
She was so distracted replaying moments in her head that she didn’t notice Ethan until he appeared behind her in the mirror.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.
She jolted. “Nothing!”
He leaned closer, lips brushing her ear. “Are you sure?”
She flushed even deeper. “Yes.”
He reached for her brush, trying to run it through her hair.
He kissed her cheek lightly. “I’ll braid it tonight.”
“Why would I braid my hair at night?”
He tapped her lower back meaningfully. “Who said I meant your hair?”