“I was lonely,” he said. “And when you walked in here, I made that your problem before I even knew your name. I've regretted it ever since.”
Claire kept holding the sign, listening.
“You came back for an interview. You built a real business out of the mess I'd made. You helped Mason see that difficult things are worth trying again. And somewhere along the way I stopped thinking only about the work you do and started thinking about you, as a person I look forward to seeing.” He paused, searching for the words he had promised himself would be honest.
“I care about you, Claire. More than I've said. I don't expect you to be my wife, or Mason's mother, or the answer to anything missing in my life. I just wanted you to know what I feel.”
For a long time she said nothing. Ethan resisted the urge to explain himself further, aware that too many words could become another form of pressure. Finally Claire asked, “You painted this yourself?”
“Last night.”
“The lettering's good.”
“I took my time.”
She smiled faintly, then grew serious. “You need to know I turned down Hartley for the work. I meant that. I'm not staying here because you want me to.”
“I believe you.”
“And if there's something between us outside the business, it can't become a condition of my place in it. Not now, and not if things change.”
“It won't,” he said. “If you don't feel the same, we still have a job to do. I'll respect that, even if it takes me a little while to sort myself out.”
Claire put the sign on the desk and considered him. She had spent months working alongside this man, watching him be corrected, watching him apologize, watching him protect his son's confidence and grow more willing to acknowledge mistakes. The attraction she felt was real, but she was not going to trade the independence she'd recovered for the warmth of being wanted. “I didn't drive past two other shops every morning because your coffee was especially good,” she said at last.
Ethan looked at her. “You never told me how bad my coffee was.”
“It's terrible,” she said. “I keep making it so you don't have to.”
They both laughed, and the tension softened without disappearing entirely. Claire held his gaze. “I care about you, too. I have for a while. But I need us to keep making decisions the way we've learned to make them, with the truth on the table and no one choosing for the other.”
“I can do that,” he said.
“You're going to have to keep doing it.”
“That's fair.”
She drew a long breath, set the sign in the corner of her desk, and opened the legal pad beside her keyboard. “Good,” she said. “Because I also have a business proposal, and I want you to consider it with exactly the same seriousness you would if we'd never had this conversation.”
Ethan pulled out the chair across from her. “What kind of proposal?”
“Ownership.”