Chapter 13 - Ethan Stops Negotiating
Ethan’s first instinct was to create a spreadsheet.
He did not.
That alone represented significant personal growth.
Instead, he poured two glasses of wine and sat across from Camille.
“What would make long distance feel different this time?”
Camille considered.
“An end date.”
“That makes sense.”
“And shared decisions.”
“Yes.”
“No vague ‘someday.’”
“Agreed.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“You’re agreeing suspiciously fast.”
“I actually agree.”
“That’s less fun.”
Ethan smiled.
“What else?”
Camille looked down.
“I can’t be the only one moving.”
The sentence carried history.
He understood immediately.
“You shouldn’t be.”
“But your job is in Seattle.”
“My company is headquartered here.”
“That sounds like the same thing.”
“It isn’t.”
Camille looked up.
Ethan continued.
“After the system failure, Priya started pushing leadership toward more distributed management.”
“How distributed?”
“I could probably work remotely half the month.”
Camille’s eyes widened.
“You never mentioned that.”
“I didn’t want to present solutions before we agreed there was a problem.”
She stared.
“You are growing.”
“It’s upsetting.”
“Very.”
They laughed.
Then Ethan became serious.
“What about your work?”
“I love my clinic.”
“I know.”
“My mother is in Miami.”
“I know.”
“My niece.”
“I know.”
“André.”
Ethan paused.
Camille noticed.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The face.”
“I’m allowed one facial expression.”
“You’re allowed several.”
He sighed.
“I know André is part of your life.”
“That still bothers you.”
“Yes.”
“Thank you.”
“For being jealous?”
“For not pretending.”
Ethan looked at her.
“I don’t want you to remove people to make me comfortable.”
“Good.”
“But I may need reassurance sometimes.”
“You can ask.”
“That seems horrifyingly vulnerable.”
“Practice.”
He took a breath.
“Are you still in love with André?”
Camille did not answer instantly.
Ethan’s stomach tightened.
Then she said, “I love him.”
He waited.
“But no.”
She moved closer.
“I’m not in love with him.”
Ethan nodded.
“That helps.”
“Anything else?”
“Was he better at dancing?”
Camille burst out laughing.
“That is your insecurity?”
“I have several. We’re starting small.”
“He was significantly better.”
“I regret asking.”
“But you improved faster.”
“Pity compliment.”
“Absolutely.”
By Monday morning they had a plan.
Not forever.
Six months.
Ethan would spend ten days a month in Miami.
Camille would visit Seattle once every six weeks when possible.
After six months they would decide whether they were building something substantial enough to reorganize their lives around.
No promises about marriage.
No dramatic declarations.
No one waiting indefinitely.
At the airport Monday afternoon, Camille hugged Ethan.
“This feels familiar.”
“I hate airports now.”
“You used to like them?”
“They were efficient.”
She smiled.
“Of course.”
Ethan touched her cheek.
“I’ll be in Miami in twelve days.”
“Twelve?”
“You counted?”
“Yes.”
“You’re calculating.”
“Some habits survive.”
Camille kissed him.
“Twelve days.”
For six months, they kept the plan.
It was difficult.
There were delayed flights.
Exhaustion.
Arguments caused by tone in text messages.
Once, Ethan flew to Miami only for Camille to spend two straight days covering for a colleague.
He became resentful.
She became defensive.
They fought in her kitchen.
“You knew my job matters.”
“I do.”
“Then why are you acting like I scheduled somebody’s stroke to ruin your weekend?”
“I’m not.”
“You absolutely are.”
Ethan stopped.
She was right.
“I’m sorry.”
Camille crossed her arms.
“That was too fast.”
“What?”
“You apologized before defending yourself.”
“I’m evolving.”
“I don’t trust it.”
They laughed.
Then talked honestly.
Another time Camille arrived in Seattle after a six-hour delay and discovered Ethan had scheduled a work dinner during her visit.
She said nothing until halfway through dessert.
Then excused herself.
Ethan found her outside.
“What happened?”
“You planned work during the only weekend I’m here.”
“It was important.”
“So am I.”
The sentence cut.
Ethan canceled the next morning’s meeting.
Camille became angry.
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
“Because you were right.”
“You don’t solve everything by overcorrecting.”
He looked at her.
“What do you want?”
“I want you to understand before you act.”
That was harder.
So he learned.
They both did.
André recovered.
His limp gradually disappeared.
He dated someone named Renée for three months.
Camille told Ethan.
Ethan pretended to be casual.
Camille caught him smiling.
“You’re pleased.”
“No.”
“You are.”
“I hope he’s happy.”
“You’re grinning.”
“Coincidence.”
Three weeks later André and Renée broke up.
Ethan said, “That’s unfortunate.”
Camille looked at him.
“That was convincing.”
“Thank you.”
Six months after the wedding, Ethan and Camille returned to Key Largo for Daniel and Elise’s anniversary weekend.
The same hotel.
The same waterfront garden.
No formal ceremony.
Just family, music, food.
At sunset, Daniel found Ethan alone near the dock.
“Remember when you paid four hundred and eighty-seven dollars to avoid going home?”
“I was hoping we’d stop discussing that.”
“Never.”
Daniel handed him a beer.
“So?”
“So what?”
“Six months.”
Ethan looked toward the dance floor.
Camille was laughing with Elise.
Yellow dress again.
Not the same one.
Close enough to stop his breath.
Daniel followed his gaze.
“You love her.”
Ethan did not answer.
Daniel smiled.
“You definitely love her.”
“Yes.”
The word came easily.
That surprised him.
Daniel became serious.
“Have you told her?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Ethan looked at Camille.
“Because I’m waiting for the right time.”
Daniel started laughing.
“What?”
“My friend.”
He slapped Ethan’s shoulder.
“You have learned absolutely nothing.”
Ethan stared.
Daniel walked away.
Across the garden, Kompa music began.
Camille looked toward Ethan.
Raised an eyebrow.
Held out her hand from twenty feet away.
And Ethan realized Daniel was right.
He had stopped calculating flights.
He had stopped calculating distance.
But he was still negotiating with the most important sentence of his life.
May you like
This time, he decided not to.
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