Chapter 44

The air was charged from the kiss that followed which had my heart pounding, and the room was enveloped in quiet. Ethan and I had been engrossed in something we both tried but were unable to ignore. The illusion was broken, though, when he abruptly withdrew, his eyes clouding over as he put distance between us.

His voice trailed off, "Emily, I..." he began.

I instantly responded, feeling the warmth in my cheeks as I attempted to process what had just transpired. "It's... it's fine," I said. Though I knew we both understood the ramifications and the limits we had violated, the kiss had seemed so natural.

Ethan avoided looking at me and ran a hand through his hair. "I... think we need to sleep."

As he turned away, I swallowed the increasing pain in my chest and nodded. He moved to the opposite side of the room and sat down on the couch without saying anything else. Pulling the blanket up, I slid into the bed and stared at the ceiling, reliving every moment of that kiss and every emotion that flashed in Ethan's eyes.

Eventually, sleep took over, and I drifted into uneasy dreams of tangled emotions and whispered secrets.

Ethan woke up earlier than I did the following morning, already dressed, and standing on our balcony, gazing out over the city. He had a stiff stance and his back was turned. For a minute, I silently observed him, wondering if he was experiencing the same emotions as me.

He looked at me when he turned, and his face softened for a moment. However, he appeared to shake it off as fast, raising the fortified wall again.

"Are you prepared to see more of the city?" His tone was informal as he inquired.

In an attempt to imitate his casual demeanor, I nodded. "Yes, that would be wonderful."

After checking out of the hotel, we spent the morning exploring Paris's streets. Every monument, including the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, and the Louvre, was more magnificent than the one before it, and for a while, it seemed like we were the only two tourists taking in the city. We laughed and spoke, our conversation light and casual, and the stress from last night began to melt away.

However, I couldn't help but notice that Ethan's phone continued to buzz as the day went on. Without responding, he would always look at it, scowl, and then tuck it back into his pocket. I initially made an effort to ignore it, but after the fourth or fifth time, my curiosity overcame me.

"Is everything okay?" As we walked beside the Seine River, the afternoon sun reflecting off the water, I asked.

Ethan's face was unreadable as he looked at me. "Yes, it's alright. Simply... work-related matters."

I nodded, but I couldn't get rid of the nagging suspicion that he was concealing something. He was obviously annoyed by the phone calls, but he hadn't told me anything about it. Additionally, I had hoped that he would let me in after everything he had told me the previous evening.

The playful atmosphere from earlier had changed as we carried on with our stroll. Ethan's focus was split, his thoughts obviously elsewhere. I made an effort to ignore the discomfort and concentrate on Paris's splendor. However, I could always see the strain carved into his features when I looked at him.

Ethan's phone started vibrating once more by the time we took a seat at a tiny café for lunch. His jaw tensed as he looked at the television.

"You know," I remarked, attempting to sound casual, "you can just answer the phone if it's that important."

He paused, glancing briefly into my eyes before turning them away. "I'll deal with it later."

My gut twisted with uneasiness, but I forced a grin. Ethan was holding secrets and excluding me, so it felt like we were starting again. The vulnerable man who had confided in me last night seemed like a faraway memory, having been replaced by the aloof, guarded version of him that I knew all too well.

We ate lunch in a somewhat quiet manner, and I could feel Ethan's annoyance mounting. His phone buzzed once more as we were leaving the café and heading back toward the hotel, and he sighed in frustration this time.

"Really, Ethan," I responded, growing impatient. "Just answer it. Whatever it is, it's obviously not going away."

When he eventually took out his phone, he stopped walking and wiped his face. After a moment of hesitation, he nodded at me. "All right. Give me a minute, please."

I saw him raise the phone to his ear and take a few steps away. Although I was unable to understand what he was saying, I could see the stress in his posture as his voice lowered to a low murmur. He gave me a few quick glances, as if to make sure I couldn't hear.

With a twinge of annoyance, I shifted uneasily. I was sick of secrets, and he was keeping something from me. I believed he trusted me enough to be honest with me after everything we had been through.

It was a brief conversation. His face was unreadable as he strolled back to me after hanging up the phone and putting it back in his pocket.

"Sorry about that," he said, his tone flat.

"Is everything alright?" My voice was sharper than I meant when I asked.

"Yeah, it's just... work stuff," he said again, dismissing it.

Something in his gaze stopped me from pressing him and demanding answers. I hesitated because of the heaviness and darkness there. It was obvious that whatever he was dealing with went beyond "work stuff."

The distance between us increased as we returned to the motel. The intimacy we shared last night seemed like a faraway memory, having been replaced by a barrier I was unable to overcome. Furthermore, I had the unshakeable impression that whatever Ethan was concealing would completely alter the course of events.

With his phone firmly grasped in his fingers, Ethan walked the floor of the hotel room. The quiet between us was like a chasm as I observed him from the edge of the bed.

In the hopes that he might at last open up, I murmured softly, "Ethan, if there's something going on... you can tell me."

He stopped pacing and gave me a look that I couldn't quite put my finger on, a mix of annoyance and something else. However, his phone buzzed once more before he could respond, and he sighed.

He turned away from me and answered the phone without saying a word, talking into it.

"Yes... I understand... His tone was strained as he whispered, "I'll take care of it."

He slumped his shoulders and put his phone down after saying a few more words. He turned to look at me, but his eyes seemed far away, as though he were in a different place.

"Who was that?" Trying to speak steadily, I asked.

He answered sharply, "It's... nothing you need to worry about."

There was an intolerable amount of tension between us. I wanted to yell, to insist that he be honest with me. I was aware, though, that pressing him now would only cause him to become even more reticent.

"All right," I murmured, scarcely raising my voice above a whisper. "I won't force you to talk if you don't want to."

Ethan's face softened, and he moved in closer, seemingly to put his hand to mine. However, he abruptly withdrew, lowering his hand to his side.

"I'm sorry, Emily," he said, his voice strained. "I just... I can't explain right now."

I swallowed the frustration that was about to explode and nodded. When the moment was perfect, I wanted to believe him and have faith that he would tell me everything. However, I couldn't get rid of the notion that whatever he was concealing was more significant than I could have ever imagined.