On the way home, Ramona called Florence to apologize to Zadkiel on Ethan’s behalf.
Florence, perhaps trying to reassure her, told Ramona not to worry. “That’s just how Zadkiel is. He likes to speak his mind, sometimes a little too bluntly, but he doesn’t have anything against you. Really, it’s nothing.”
When they finally reached Ramona’s apartment, Ethan seemed to let go of all the tension and exhaustion he’d been carrying around all night.
He’d barely touched his dinner at the Covingtons’—after seeing Melinda treat Ramona that way, how could he have had any appetite?
Now, even though it was already well past midnight, hunger gnawed at him.
Before he could say a word, though, Ramona already changed into comfy clothes, headed to the kitchen as if she could read his mind. “You must be starving. I’ll make you some pasta.”
She grinned over her shoulder. “Don’t underestimate my cooking. My pasta is way better than anything they served at the Covington family dinner.”
Ramona’s playful boast lightened the mood in the kitchen, chasing away the heaviness that lingered from the evening.
Ethan stepped up behind her, wrapping his strong arms gently around her waist. He didn’t say a word, but his breath was warm against her neck, making her squirm and stifle a laugh.
“Stop that. Go take a shower, will you? The food will be ready soon.”
He didn’t move. Instead, his voice, low and almost hesitant, drifted to her ear. “Ramona, you’ll stay with me. Forever. You’ll never leave again. Right?”
She paused, surprised by how serious he sounded.
“Why would you ask that? We’re married. If I don’t spend my life with you, what else would I do?”
Her reply was half teasing, half tender, filled with affection she didn’t bother to hide.
Ethan’s tense shoulders relaxed. He rested his head against the curve of her neck. “Good.”
It wasn’t easy to cook with Ethan clinging to her like that. Ramona thought about pushing him away, but after hearing the vulnerability in his voice, she just let him hold her.
For all his stoic exterior, Ethan’s heart was softer than he let on. She realized that, just like her, he’d grown up never truly feeling safe. Her husband needed to be looked after by her.
They ended up sharing a big bowl of homemade pasta with shredded greens and bits of chicken. The ingredients were simple, but Ramona’s cooking had a magic to it—light yet full of flavor. Ethan finished every last drop.
Night had swallowed the city. The apartment lights were off, but a few golden glimmers from distant windows slipped through the gap in the curtains.
Ramona lay awake in bed, unable to sleep, when she felt the mattress dip behind her. Ethan’s familiar scent surrounded her as he pulled her into his arms from behind.
“Can’t sleep?” She didn’t turn, just asked softly.
She’d thought he’d gone to bed already—after all, when she came out of her shower, the light in his room was off.
“Mm. I want to fall asleep holding you.”



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