Drowning While He Fed Her Strawberries - Chapter 2: Chapter 2
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I paused for a second, then shrugged it off with the only excuse I could muster: Maybe there just wasn't enough love.
I took half the day off to pack up some things to ship out—but barely ten minutes later, my phone rang.
"Emma, get back here! We've got a major client today, and Ethan's out. The office can't run itself."
Grudgingly, I hailed a cab and headed back.
By the time I arrived, Ethan was already deep in conversation with the client—and Sophie was hovering nearby, refilling water glasses, shooting him these little looks. The tension between them was so thick you could cut it with a knife.
Jane, a coworker I trusted, pulled me aside, furious.
"Emma, how can Ethan do this to you? It's like he's slapping you in the face right in front of everyone!"
"Look at them—flirting like that in the office? Disgusting."
I shook my head, signaling her to drop it before someone overheard and she got dragged into drama.
Too late.
Sophie stepped out of the office just then, dropping the kettle in her hands. It shattered on the floor.
"Oh my God, Emma, I'm so sorry!" She covered her mouth like she was about to burst into tears. "Please don't misunderstand—Ethan and I, we're nothing. He's just a friend! I never thought you'd think…"
Ethan stormed out at the noise, took one look at Sophie's watery eyes, and snapped.
"Emma, what the hell did you say to her?"
He didn't even let me explain. Sophie bolted down the hall, sobbing, and Ethan chased after her—leaving me standing there with the client, the meeting room empty, and my dignity in pieces.
Somehow, I pulled it together and salvaged the deal. Thankfully, it was an old client—a little office melodrama wasn't going to ruin years of trust.
By the time I wrapped things up, it was past eleven. I dragged myself home well after midnight, only to find the living room looking like a luxury boutique had exploded.
Designer boxes everywhere. Clothes, jewelry—you name it.
And there was Ethan, sprawled on the couch with Sophie curled up in his lap, fast asleep.
He shot me a warning glare the second I walked in.
"Keep it down," he hissed. "I just got her to sleep."
Then, like an afterthought: "Heard you closed the deal. There's a little reward for you on the table."
A bottle of mid-range perfume sat there—pathetic next to the thousand-dollar scatter of gifts around them.
I didn't even reach for it.
"No thanks," I said flatly. "This tomboy doesn't do perfume."
I headed straight for the guest room.
It wasn't that I hated nice things. Every girl likes a little luxury now and then.
But back when Ethan's company first took off, I'd bought myself a single bottle—just once.
The first time I wore it, he'd scolded me: "Just because the business is stable now doesn't mean you can throw money around. Luxury is a slippery slope—we can't forget where we came from."
After that? I never bought anything fancy again.
The few nice things I owned were gifts from him—and not one of them added up to the haul he'd brought home tonight.
Ethan lingered outside the guest room door like he wanted to say something—but with Sophie still asleep in his arms, he kept his mouth shut.
I took half the day off to pack up some things to ship out—but barely ten minutes later, my phone rang.
"Emma, get back here! We've got a major client today, and Ethan's out. The office can't run itself."
Grudgingly, I hailed a cab and headed back.
By the time I arrived, Ethan was already deep in conversation with the client—and Sophie was hovering nearby, refilling water glasses, shooting him these little looks. The tension between them was so thick you could cut it with a knife.
Jane, a coworker I trusted, pulled me aside, furious.
"Emma, how can Ethan do this to you? It's like he's slapping you in the face right in front of everyone!"
"Look at them—flirting like that in the office? Disgusting."
I shook my head, signaling her to drop it before someone overheard and she got dragged into drama.
Too late.
Sophie stepped out of the office just then, dropping the kettle in her hands. It shattered on the floor.
"Oh my God, Emma, I'm so sorry!" She covered her mouth like she was about to burst into tears. "Please don't misunderstand—Ethan and I, we're nothing. He's just a friend! I never thought you'd think…"
Ethan stormed out at the noise, took one look at Sophie's watery eyes, and snapped.
"Emma, what the hell did you say to her?"
He didn't even let me explain. Sophie bolted down the hall, sobbing, and Ethan chased after her—leaving me standing there with the client, the meeting room empty, and my dignity in pieces.
Somehow, I pulled it together and salvaged the deal. Thankfully, it was an old client—a little office melodrama wasn't going to ruin years of trust.
By the time I wrapped things up, it was past eleven. I dragged myself home well after midnight, only to find the living room looking like a luxury boutique had exploded.
Designer boxes everywhere. Clothes, jewelry—you name it.
And there was Ethan, sprawled on the couch with Sophie curled up in his lap, fast asleep.
He shot me a warning glare the second I walked in.
"Keep it down," he hissed. "I just got her to sleep."
Then, like an afterthought: "Heard you closed the deal. There's a little reward for you on the table."
A bottle of mid-range perfume sat there—pathetic next to the thousand-dollar scatter of gifts around them.
I didn't even reach for it.
"No thanks," I said flatly. "This tomboy doesn't do perfume."
I headed straight for the guest room.
It wasn't that I hated nice things. Every girl likes a little luxury now and then.
But back when Ethan's company first took off, I'd bought myself a single bottle—just once.
The first time I wore it, he'd scolded me: "Just because the business is stable now doesn't mean you can throw money around. Luxury is a slippery slope—we can't forget where we came from."
After that? I never bought anything fancy again.
The few nice things I owned were gifts from him—and not one of them added up to the haul he'd brought home tonight.
Ethan lingered outside the guest room door like he wanted to say something—but with Sophie still asleep in his arms, he kept his mouth shut.
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