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“Right,” he rasps. “Good job, Alexis. You’re exactly right.”

His smile is bittersweet. Pained. Like I tore it from him.

I frown. “Are you okay, Mr. Anderson?” Calling him by his first name feels too…intimate.

“Ethan.” He leans forward, raising his index finger toward my face before stopping himself. His finger curls inward, and he drops his fist back on the table.

Leaning back, he exhales. “Call me Ethan. Please. Don’t call me Mr. Anderson. I think we’re past that, right?”

My breath stalls. Is he talking about the night that shall not be named?

“Ethan,” I whisper, spellbound by the passion in his voice. He sounds like he’d die if I call him by his last name.

“Yes?” His gaze darkens, his eyes roving over me hungrily.

I swallow. “That night at the club.”

Ethan’s gaze shutters and his jaw works. “It shouldn’t have happened. I was inappropriate. I’m sorry.”

The air swooshes out of my lungs. “Oh. Right. That’s what I was going to say.” I force out a smile. “Forget it ever happened?” My chest tightens.I should be happy, not disappointed.

Knock. Knock.

“Come in.”

The door swings open. A tall man with blond hair and a friendly smile strides in. “I heard you were here with the intern.”

He extends his hand. “Trey Donovan. VP of Finance. You must be Alexis.”

Wiping my hands on my skirt, I stand and shake his hand. “Nice to meet you. Everyone’s been very helpful.”

“My door is always open, you know. I taught this guy,” he jabs his thumb toward a smirking Ethan, “everything he knows. And I’m much nicer.”

I grin. Trey seems easygoing. I bet the finance staff goes to him for questions instead of the brooding man sitting next to me.

Trey turns to Ethan. “Anyway, Debbie told me you held your calls and canceled your swim meet. Thought I’d check in to see if I could help and get your dinner order while I’m at it. The usual turkey club? What about you, Alexis?”

“Uh, I just had lunch. I don’t think I’ll need dinner.”

“Because you’re normal. Unlike someone who eats dinner at five p.m.sharpevery day.” He rolls his eyes. “Ethan, need me to take over the training?”

“I got it.”

Trey cocks his brow. “Okay.And you want the turkey club? Why do I even ask?” He sighs and turns around.

“Actually, order a rib eye and a Pintzer from Carlisle’s for me,” Ethan murmurs. “It’s been a long time.”

Trey whips his head back, his eyes widening. “A steak and beer? On a Wednesday? Who are you and what did you do with Ethan Anderson?”

Rib eye. Carlisle. Pintzer.

The words jostle inside my brain. Why am I so hung up on them?

Why. Why. Why.I’m so sick of having more whys and no answers.

Sharp jabs hit the base of my neck. I hiss out a breath, cold sweat beading my forehead soon to follow.

Shit, another one of those headaches. This time, it seems like it’ll be much more severe than before.