“That does sound serious.”
Their first date was on a Tuesday evening.
Claire almost canceled twice.
Not because she didn’t want to go.
Because wanting to go made her nervous.
She changed clothes three times.
The woman who could give a thirty-minute presentation without notes stood in front of her closet and forgot how shirts worked.
Ethan picked a quiet neighborhood restaurant.
No dramatic gestures.
No expensive surprises.
Just dinner.
For the first twenty minutes, they talked about Maggie.
Then Claire stopped.
“We’re doing it.”
“Doing what?”
“Talking about the child the entire time because we don’t know how to talk about ourselves.”
Ethan smiled.
“Okay.”
He folded his hands.
“Who are you when you’re not Claire the CEO or Claire the honorary braid specialist?”
Claire stared at him.
“That feels aggressive.”
“Your turn afterward.”
She thought.
“I like old houses.”
Ethan blinked.
“What?”
“I know nothing about fixing them. But I like driving through neighborhoods and imagining what the rooms look like.”
“I did not know that.”
“You asked.”
“What else?”
“I used to draw.”
“Really?”
“In college.”
“What kind of things?”
“Buildings. People. Hands.”
“Why did you stop?”
Claire opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
“I got busy.”
Ethan nodded slowly.
“My turn?”
“Yes.”
“I wanted to be a high-school teacher.”
Claire stared.
“You’re an engineer.”
“I know.”
“What happened?”
“My father told me engineering was more stable.”
