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Am I too late? Or did I never even get a chance.

Chapter Sixteen

Ethan

Ethan strode down the bustling executive corridor of Bennett & Mendoza, balancing a cardboard tray in his left hand. He ignored the frantic energy of the creative teams arguing over storyboards, keeping his focus locked on the glass-walled office at the end of the hall.

He held a steaming vanilla oat milk latte and a fresh almond croissant from the boutique bakery three blocks away—Lily’s exact order, memorized perfectly from their years together. He stopped at her door, rapping his knuckles twice against the glass frame before stepping inside.

Lily looked up from her dual monitors, blinking away the glare of the screens. An exasperated sigh parted her lips, but it lacked the bitter, defensive edge she had wielded against him for the past month. Instead, a small, begrudging smile touched the corners of her mouth.

"Room service," Ethan announced, keeping his tone light and charming as he crossed the room.

He placed the cup and the crisp white paper bag on the corner of her desk, right next to her keyboard.

Lily picked up the coffee, wrapping her fingers around the cardboard sleeve. "Ethan, thank you, but you really didn't have to do this."

"I was walking right past the place," Ethan lied smoothly, having gone entirely out of his way just to secure the pastry. "It cost me nothing to grab an extra cup on the way in."

He slipped his hands into his tailored trouser pockets, watching as she took a sip. Her shoulders relaxed a fraction, the caffeine providing a much-needed boost to her exhausted posture. Seeing her let her guard down around him sent a thrilling rush of victory through his veins.

Over the past few days, ever since their dinner in the private restaurant, a profound shift had taken place. The impenetrable wall of resentment she had built after London had crumbled. By laying his pride bare and confessing his medical diagnosis, he had successfully extracted the venom from their history. The hostility was gone, replaced by a tentative, comfortable ease.

They were friends again.

Ethan watched her break off a piece of the flaky croissant, a confident smirk playing on his lips as he turned to leave her office. He possessed an abundance of patience, and he knew exactly how to play the long game. Friendship was exactly how their romance had ignited back in London. It was the foundation that had led to the most intoxicating years of his life.

He had his foot back in the door. With enough time, proximity, and careful maneuvering, he knew he would win her back. They would return to what they had been before the wreckage. He just had to wait for her to realize it.

***

Ethan held the polished brass door of the upscale bistro open, exchanging a final handshake with the marketing director. Lily stepped out onto the sunlit sidewalk beside him, her smile bright and engaging.

The lunch had been a resounding triumph. As they turned and began the short walk back down the street toward the agency, they fell into an animated rhythm, exchanging rapid-fire ideas about the upcoming campaign proposal. It felt just like their prime years in London—a seamless collision of two brilliant minds operating on the exact same frequency.

Then, without warning, Lily stopped dead in her tracks.

Her sentence died on her tongue. Ethan frowned, following her wide-eyed gaze down the block.

Parked haphazardly near the curb was a dark gray pickup truck. Leaning against the driver's side door, with his arms crossed over his chest, was the contractor. He wore a pair of faded denim jeans, scuffed black work boots, and an unbuttoned flannel shirt over a plain white t-shirt. Ethan assessed the man from head to toe, a sneer curling his upper lip.

So pedestrian.

Ethan shifted closer to Lily, pitching his voice into a protective register. "I can get rid of him for you. Just head inside, Lily. I will handle it."

She snapped her head toward him, her eyes wide with genuine shock. "What? No. Why would you do that?"

Ethan blinked, taken aback by her fierce reaction. "Are you actually going to talk to him?"

"Of course I am," she said, her voice entirely devoid of the camaraderie they had shared just minutes ago. She didn't even look at Ethan as she dismissed him. "You can go on ahead."

She stepped away, walking directly toward the truck. Ethan stood frozen on the concrete, a physical, tearing pain ripping through the center of his chest. He watched the way her posture shifted as she closed the distance. He watched the unbridled, desperate longing in her eyes—a look she had not directed at Ethan in over a year.

Clenching his jaw so hard his teeth ached, Ethan turned his back on the pathetic reunion and marched into the corporate building.

He did not go back to his own desk. Ethan walked straight into Lily’s glass-walled office and took a seat on the leather sofa, waiting. The minutes ticked by, turning into a grueling test of endurance. It was over an hour before the door finally pushed open.

Lily walked in, looking flustered and entirely off-balance. She stopped short when she saw him sitting there.