60| Sinclair Family Dinner

"So, are we painting the town red this weekend or what?" Mia exclaimed as she burst into the flower shop on Friday afternoon.

Sophie and Lily, both kneeling on the floor as they arranged bouquets, barely looked up, groaning in unison.

"Mia, we own businesses. We work on weekends," Lily said, exasperated.

"I know," Mia sighed dramatically, flopping onto the counter. "I just like to pretend we're city girls who go clubbing on Saturdays. What about Sunday? We at least get breaks on Sundays."

"Sorry, I've got plans on Sunday," Sophie said, focusing on tying a ribbon around a bouquet.

Mia sat up straighter. "Ooooh, plans?"

Sophie rolled her eyes. "Nothing exciting. Ethan's family has dinner once a month."

Mia rolled her eyes. "Ugh, your fancy in-laws. I swear, sometimes it feels like you're living in a romance novel."

"Haha, you're hilarious," Sophie deadpanned. "You don't know how daunting Ethan's home can be. No one smiles—not even the staff. It's like three hours of polite torture. No one actually wants to be there."

Lily frowned. "I thought you were getting along with his family?"

Sophie sighed, setting down the bouquet. "Ethan's mother, Evelyn, is really sweet, but his father... not so much. The way he treats Ethan? It breaks my heart. And Ethan never talks about it. Every time I try to ask—even subtly—he just shuts down."

"So you're piecing things together like a detective?" Lily asked, smirking.

Sophie chuckled. "Pretty much. Just gathering bits of information, trying to see the full picture."

Mia's expression softened. "Not everyone opens up quickly. Give it time."

Sophie smiled at that. She understood it perfectly. It had taken her years to open up to Lily about their financial struggles.

Maybe the loan shark incident wasn't so bad. At least it finally made her open up to Lily and Mia.

When she finally talked to them, they had cried—cried—and hugged even more.

That night, when she got home, Ethan had just stared at her puffy eyes, his brows furrowing in confusion. He didn't ask outright, but she could tell... he was debating what the hell happened.

She had only mumbled something about "girl talk" and he understood.

Right. Ethan.

Maybe she just needed to give him time, too. The same way he had given her.

Mia clapped her hands. "Well, I guess it's just you and me, Lily—painting the town red!"

Lily winced. "About that..."

Mia groaned. "What is it now?"

Sophie laughed as Lily sheepishly admitted, "I kind of swore off men. Going out with you would be a... temptation."

Mia huffed, flopping onto a nearby chair. "Come on, Lily. I haven't had a serious relationship in forever. I need a wingwoman. I want a husband."

Then she dramatically grabbed a bouquet off the table, clutching it to her chest. "Please, I want to glow like Sophie. I want a hickey."

Sophie almost choked on air.

"Please," Lily scoffed. "Sophie was sitting in her shop, practically single, and then—boom—she got handed a rich, hot husband without even trying."

"I know!" Mia groaned. "But what if I'm not as lucky as Sophie? What if I get really old?"

Sophie finally snapped her head up. "Can you two stop talking about me like I'm not here?"

Mia ignored her, eyes narrowing mischievously. "Don't think we haven't noticed your glow these past few weeks. Looks like someone's been getting it."

Sophie turned a deep shade of red. "That's it. I'm done with both of you. I have work to do!"

"Just tell Ethan to lay off the neck," Mia teased, nodding toward the faint mark just visible under Sophie's collar.

Lily grinned. "One word: foundation."

Sophie groaned, grabbing a bundle of roses and using them to hide her face as her best friends giggled.

*******

Back at home that night, Sophie curled up on the couch, waiting for Ethan. He had texted that he'd be home soon.

A blush crept up her face just thinking about him, and it was no wonder Lily and Mia had noticed.

She pulled out her phone, using the front camera to inspect her neck.

Yep. Definitely visible.

Maybe Ethan could go a little easier on her neck next time... or maybe she should just invest in full-coverage foundation.

Foundation it was.

Since that night, they couldn't seem to keep their hands off each other—like reckless teenagers with too much energy and nowhere to put it.

The way he looked at her now, the way he touched her, the way he said her name... It was everything.

But there was something else. Something she couldn't get out of her head.

Maybe she should be satisfied with where they were. Maybe it was enough to just be happy in this moment, without complicating things.

But she couldn't hold herself back anymore.

She wanted to tell Ethan that she loved him.

And yet, the timing never felt right.

She struggled with when to say it, how to say it. She didn't want to blurt it out in the middle of their breathless, passionate moments, where emotions ran high but might not be enough to capture the depth of what she felt.

She wanted it to be perfect.

And at some point, she had stopped worrying about whether or not he would say it back. That didn't even matter anymore.

Still, every time she planned to say it, she hesitated. Postponed it.

It was just three words—so why was it so hard to say to the man she loved so much?

The sound of Ethan punching in the door code yanked her from her thoughts.

Her heart leaped.

"Ethan!" she squealed, scrambling to her feet.

He barely had time to take off his shoes before she launched herself at him.

He caught her easily, his grip strong and sure, a soft chuckle vibrating against her cheek. "Missed me that much, huh?"

She pulled back just enough to look at him, her fingers brushing against his jaw. "So much."

But Ethan wasn't a man of unnecessary words. Instead, he tilted her chin up and kissed her, deep and slow, like he'd been thinking about it all damn day.

And maybe he had.

"How was work?" she mumbled against his lips.

"Don't wanna talk about work," he murmured, his voice warm against her skin.

Then he kissed her again. Longer this time.

And then again.

"I've been thinking about doing that all day," he confessed, his lips brushing against hers, sending a shiver down her spine.

Her fingers curled into his shirt, holding onto him tightly, but she didn't even get a chance to respond before he kissed her again, this time with more urgency.

"I really—" kiss "—can't get enough of you." kiss

She gasped softly, overwhelmed in the best way. "Ethan..."

That was all he needed to hear.

In one swift motion, he scooped her up and carried her to the bedroom.

And what followed was utter bliss.

Being with him was utter bliss.

And she wished—God, she wished—that moments like these could last forever.

But life had other plans.

That Sunday, she found herself standing in front of the Sinclair Estate.

Ethan, beside her, had already put on his cold, detached mask—the one he wore whenever he was here.

The one she hated so much.

As they stepped inside, they were greeted by Ethan's mother, Evelyn, who welcomed them with her usual warmth.

Her gentle smile instantly made Sophie feel at ease. At least she had something to look forward to tonight.

But then, Robert Sinclair arrived, and it was like he drained the life from the entire house.

This man was impossible. A tough shell that refused to crack. And, somehow, Sophie's politeness only ever seemed to make him more irritated.

"Good. You're finally here," Robert said, barely offering a greeting.

Sophie tried to ignore the sting that he had completely ignored her.

"Thank you for having us," Ethan replied, his grip tightening slightly around Sophie's hand.

Robert's gaze flickered to her briefly, his expression unreadable.

"Let's go in, then."

Once inside, Evelyn looped her arm through Sophie's, offering her a bright smile.

"Sophie, I need your advice on something—we have so much to talk about."

A wave of relief washed over Sophie. Good. A distraction.

"Of course, Evelyn. I'd be happy to help."

As Evelyn led her toward a cozy sitting area, Ethan and Robert exchanged a brief look before heading toward Robert's office.

Something about their interaction made Sophie's stomach twist.

Was there tension between them?

Her gaze lingered on Ethan as he disappeared down the hall, a small seed of anxiety taking root in her chest.

"Don't worry about them," Evelyn said softly, as if sensing her unease. "They have their own way of communicating. Let's focus on us."

Sophie smiled, appreciating Evelyn's attempt to ease her mind—but a part of her still wanted to grab Ethan's hand and tell him they could just go home.

At home, they were in their own little bubble.

But for now, she had to endure this.

She turned to Evelyn. "Thank you. What did you need advice on?"

Evelyn settled into a plush armchair and gestured for Sophie to do the same.

"I've been thinking about redecorating the guest rooms. It's a new season, and I want to switch things up."

Then, with a wistful smile, she added, "And maybe, since you and Ethan have been coming over more, you might eventually want to sleep over. Who knows?"

Sophie understood.

Evelyn wanted to spend more time with her son—and maybe even with her too. For a while now, Sophie had unknowingly become the glue between them.

She relaxed a little. "Of course. You know I love decorating."

As they discussed colors, fabrics, and styles, Sophie found herself genuinely enjoying the conversation. Evelyn's kindness and genuine interest in her opinions made her feel welcome—valued.

They laughed and chatted easily until Evelyn suddenly added, "Oh, and I changed the menu for dinner tonight."

"Oh, and just so you know, I switched up the menu a bit today."

Sophie blinked. "You did?"

"Well, yes. I noticed you don't seem to enjoy it very much. So I told the chef to make something a bit more homey today."

Sophie felt a rush of warmth spread through her chest. Ethan's mother was so much like him sometimes. She noticed.

"You didn't have to—"

"I wanted to," Evelyn interrupted, reaching out to pat Sophie's hand. "You're family. And family makes accommodations for each other."

Sophie wanted to ask if Robert would be okay with that decision, but before she could, the butler entered the room and announced, "Dinner is served."

Evelyn stood, linking arms with Sophie again. "Shall we?"

As they made their way toward the dining room, Sophie stole a glance toward Robert's office, where the butler had gone to fetch Ethan and his father.

Her heart quickened in anticipation.

By the time they reached the table and took their seats, she finally saw him.

Ethan.

The moment he stepped into the room, her stomach dropped.

His expression was tense, his jaw clenched in that way she hated—like he was forcing himself to stay composed.

Why did he look like that?

And why did it scare her so much?

Dinner was... uncomfortable.

The food, for once, was good, but she could barely enjoy it.

The table was silent, save for Evelyn's occasional attempts at light conversation.

But the tension was palpable.

Ethan barely spoke, focused entirely on his meal. He didn't even look up.

She wanted to reach for him, to offer some kind of comfort, but he was seated across from her, just out of reach.

Sophie poked at her plate, feeling suffocated. Why did it feel like she was sitting on a ticking time bomb?

That's it.

Tonight, when they were home, she was going to ask him.

She would ask about what he and his father talked about.

She would ask about everything she had been too afraid to push for before.

Suddenly, Ethan looked up—as if he had felt her staring.

Their eyes met, and he offered her a small, reassuring smile.

But it didn't quite reach his eyes.

And just like that, Sophie's sense of dread grew stronger.

Because as dinner dragged on, she realized one thing with absolute certainty:

This was the last place she wanted to be.

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