<b>The </b><b>doorbell </b>rang, <b>and </b>I looked up from myptop. I was finishing some emails before taking Ss to his <b>first </b>psychological <b>consultation</b>. <b>I </b><b>nced </b><b>at </b><b>the </b>time–<b>too </b>early <b>for </b>Ethan’s usual <b>visits</b>. <b>I </b>heard footsteps as Ss went to answer <b>the </b><b>door</b>, and <b>I </b>continued <b>typing</b>, curious about who <b>would </b>be showing up unannounced this morning.
When I finally looked up, I caught the tail end <b>of </b>a tense exchange. Ethan stood in the doorway, his shoulders rigid despite his casual <b>designer </b>clothes. Ss had positioned himself like a gatekeeper<b>, </b>hisnky frame surprisingly imposing. Neither man <b>spoke</b><b>, </b><b>but </b>the silent <b>standoff </b><b>was </b>eloquent enough.
Ethan finally broke eye contact<b>, </b>stepping around Ss with practiced grace. He spotted meing down the stairs and his expression softened immediately.
“I brought you something,” he said, holding up a small insted bag. “Blueberries and cherries, air–shipped from Venezu this morning<b>.</b>”
The gesture <b>wasn’t </b>lost on me. This was Ethan’s way of extending an olive branch after ourst interaction.
“Thanks,” <b>I </b>said, examining the perfectly ripe fruit. “But Ss and I were just about to head out.”
Ethan’s smile faltered. “Mind if I ask where you’re going?”
I nced at Ss, who looked pale and exhausted, dark circles prominent under his eyes.
“Not really your business<b>,</b>” I replied, my tone deliberately light despite the words.
Ethan studied me for a long moment, drawing a deep breath. “Can we talk before you go?”
“I don’t have time right now,” I said, grabbing my keys.
Ss<b>, </b>who had been watching our exchange silently, suddenly spoke up. “I can go by myself. <b>Just </b>give me the address.”
I ignored him, keeping my eyes on Ethan. “Ss and I have ns.”
Ethan’s expression darkened subtly. “No time for me, but plenty for him.”
The air in the room grew heavy with tension. I sighed, realizing we weren’t going to leave without addressing whatever was eating at
Ethan.
<b>“</b>Fine<b>. </b>Let’s talk in my room,” <b>I </b>conceded, turning to Ss. “Wait for me, I’ll just be a minute.”
<b>Ethan </b>shook his head. “We can talk right here. I don’t think we need privacy from him.”
<b>I </b><b>narrowed </b>my eyes, irritated by his presumption but too tired to argue. “Fine. Say what you need to say.”
Ethan didn’t <b>waste </b>time with preamble. “What exactly are we, Jade?”
<b>I </b><b>almost </bughed at the cliché question. “Is Mr. Haxton feeling his age? Eager to settle down, have kids, and need some kind ofbel from
<b>me</b><b>?</b><b>” </b>
His jaw tightened<b>. </b>“<b>How </b>long <b>do </b>you n on this… whatever it is between us? Or was it always just about the chase for <b>you</b><b>?</b><b>” </b>
<b>“</b>You <b>seemed </b><b>pretty </b>content <b>with </b>our arrangement until now<b>, </b>I pointed out. “Getting greedy isn’t attractive, <b>Ethan</b><b>.</b><b>” </b>
<b>“</b><b>What </b><b>am </b>I to you<b>?</b><b>” </b>he asked<b>, </b>his voice unnervingly calm.
I leaned against the counter, studying him. <b>“</b>For marriage? You’d be quite the catch, Ethan. But I have no ns to get married. I understand you’re not getting any younger, but we haven’t known each other that long. Your urgency puts me in an awkward position.<b>” </b>
I watched his face carefully as I continued. “If you’re willing to wait <b>five </b>or <b>six </b>years, maybe by then I’ll have clearer thoughts about marriage<b>.</b>”
“I like my freedom,” I said with a shrug. “Being tied down is <b>my </b>personal hell. If you can’t handle that…”
“I never wanted to cage you,” Ethan said, hisposure slipping for the first time <b>since </b>I’d known him.
I looked at him, feeling a twinge of something almost like regret.
“Love isn’t a necessity for me, Ethan. At best, it’s a pleasant diversion. Someone with your status should be more clear–headed about this. Besides, you’ve known from the start that I’m no angel.” <fnaa70> ?????? ???? Find_Novel(.</fnaa70>
“Then what have these past months meant?” he asked quietly.
“If you’re forcing me to eithermit to a rtionship or promise you forever right now, I’m sorry, but I can’t. I have too many things I need to do.”
Ethan stared at me in silence, his green eyes unreadable.
“I’ve been clear,” I said finally. “Maybe you should go home and reconsider what you want from us.”
His face hardened as he nced at Ss, who was pretending not to listen. Without another word, Ethan turned and walked out.
I turned to Ss. “Let’s go.”
“You didn’t have to piss off Ethan Haxton,” Ss said as we drove toward the private clinic. “That guy could ruin both our lives with a phone call.”
I kept my eyes on the road. “What, <b>I </b>can’t have friends now?”
“That’s not what I meant,” Ss backpedaled. “<b>It’s </b>just… he’s Ethan fucking Haxton. And he’s clearly into you.”
“So I’m supposed to drop everything whenever he snaps his fingers?” I asked, irritation creeping into my voice. “Is that how it works?”
Ss fell silent, apparently sensing my mood.
<b>The </b><b>private </b><b>clinic </b><b>was </b><b>nestled </b>in an <b>upscale </b>neighborhood. <b>Nothing </b>about it screamed <b>“</b>psychiatric <b>facility</b>,” <b>which </b>was <b>precisely </b><b>the </b><b>point</b>. <b>People </b>who <b>came </b>here <b>valued </b>discretion above all else.
<b>Chris </b><b>Jensen </b>greeted <b>us </b>at <b>the </b>entrance<b>, </b>dressed in a whiteb <b>coat </b>over a <b>perfectly </b>tailored <b>charcoal </b><b>suit </b>with a <b>blue </b><b>tie </b><b>that </b><b>brought </b><b>out </b>
<b>his </b><b>eyes</b>.
<b>“</b><b>Jade</b><b>,</b><b>” </b><b>he </b><b>said </b>warmly<b>, </b>before turning to Ss with a practiced smile<b>. </b><b>“</b>And you must be <b>Ss</b><b>. </b>I’m Dr. Jensen<b>.</b><b>” </b>
Ss nodded awkwardly, clearly ufortable.
<b>“</b>Jade rarely brings friends <b>to </b>meet me,” Chris remarked, leading <b>us </b>down a hallway. “You <b>must </b>be special.”
“You can wait in here<b>,</b>” Chris told me, gesturing to a luxurious waiting area with leather couches and a fully stocked refreshment <b>bar</b><b>. </b>“This might take a while<b>.</b><b>” </b>
I settled into afortable chair with my phone as Chris led Ss into his office. Three and a half hourster, they emerged. <b>Ss </b>looked drained but somehow lighter, while Chris maintained his professional demeanor despite the obviousck of progress.
<b>“</b><b>We’ve </b>made a start,” Chris said vaguely. “I’d like to schedule another session next week.”
Ss nodded, avoiding my eyes.
“Let’s get some food,” I suggested. “I’m starving.”
We ended up at an Italian restaurant a few blocks from the clinic. Chris had joined us, shedding his doctor persona the moment we were
seated.
“So, how are things with Haxton?” Chris asked casually as we waited for our food. “Any developments I should know about?”
<b>I </b>gave him a t look. “Always bringing up the wrong topic.”
“Him?” Chris asked, pointing his fork at himself. “Or me?”
When I didn’t answer, Chris smiled. “d it’s not me.”
<b>He </b>turned his attention to Ss. “What about you? Anyone special in your life?”
<b>Ss </b>shook his head, pushing pasta around his te.
“A good–looking guy like you<b>, </b>with obvious intelligence?” Chris remarked. “You’ll have plenty of options in the future.”
<b>Ss </b>looked <b>up</b><b>, </b>surprised. “Me<b>?</b>”
<b>“</b>Small wonder–Jade’s friends are never anything less than exceptional,” Chris said with a shrug.
“You know,” Chris said, turning back to me, “you and Haxton don’t really fit.”
I raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to borate.
<b>“</b><b>He’s </b>built for <b>the </b>traditional life–marriage, family<b>, </b>dynasty–building. You’re…” he gestured vaguely at me, “clearly not that type.”
I said nothing, focusing on <b>my </b>food.
<b>“</b>Not that there’s anything wrong with either approach,” Chris added hastily. “<b>Just </b>an observation.”
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