“Mum, this is Isabella Vincentia. Ella.” His mother pulls out of Ethan’s embrace and turns for me. “Ella, my mum, Sarah Scott.”
I offer an outstretched hand, but she surprises me by stepping toward me and wrapping her arms around me.
“It’s my pleasure to meet you, Ella,” she says after she pulls back from the embrace. Her hands hold my upper arms. “Isabella. Beautiful in Italian.” His mother’s Irish accent lingers. “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” She glosses right over my scar, not stopping to stare or hesitate with a pinched expression. She really looks at me, and I grow uneasy.
I choke on my reply. “It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs. Scott. Ethan speaks highly of you.”
“I’m spoiled like that. He’s my favorite youngest son.”
“Mum, I’m your only youngest son,” Ethan scoffs.
“I may have cancer, but I don’t have dementia. Not yet anyway.” She winks at me.
“Are you ready, Mum? Where’s your jacket? It’s cold outside.” He leaves me standing with his mom while he disappears into another room.
I don’t know what to say. I used to be so good with people in general. My social graces are gone. Mrs. Scott’s long fingers slide down my arms and circle my wrists.
“What a boring date he’s brought you on. Having to sit with an old lady while she gets her treatment,” she tsks. “I promise I’ve raised him better. I hope he’s taking you someplace special afterward.”
I bite my lip before answering.
“Oh, Ethan and I are just friends, so this really isn’t a date, and I don’t mind sitting with you for your treatment. Hospitals are unpleasant places.”
Ethan re-enters the room, and his voice strains when he speaks to his mother. “I told you about Ella. Remember, Mum?” She releases me, and he helps her with her winter jacket.
My head pops up, and I peer over at him. He isn’t looking at me as he concentrates on buttoning up his mother. He told his mother about me. What did he say?
“All the same,” Sarah says, glancing up at him. “Ethan, take her somewhere nice afterward.” She turns her head, bringing her attention back to me. “From the looks of you, you need a good meal. You’re too thin, honey.”
“Mum,” Ethan scolds. She reaches up and places her hand on his cheek.
“I’m so happy she’s here with you.” It’s a strange comment but warms my insides. Her genuine smile cannot be denied. When she turns for the door, Ethan makes the international sign for cuckoo behind her, but her words please me. Sarah steps around me, and Ethan follows, pausing next to me before we exit the house.
“I know I signed an NDA. I didn’t say anything specific about you. I just told her I met a girl.”
“The no dimple appreciation form?” I tease, recalling what he called it, and then he flashes me those dimples with a deep smile. He slips an arm around me and tugs me to him. His lips kiss my forehead. Just as quickly as he pulled me in, he lets me go, and I’m left stunned in his family’s living room for a second.
What was that?
I don’t have time to consider it as Ethan’s holding the door open for his mother and waiting on me.
+ + +
When we reach the hospital, Sarah checks in, and Ethan stands back with me.
“I usually sit with her.”
“Go then. Please, don’t let me interrupt. I can wait in the outer waiting room.” I’ve had my share of hospital visits, and I don’t want Sarah to be alone, especially if she’s used to a family member sitting with her. Many of my past appointments I’ve attended alone. It must be nice to have a tight-knit family. I don’t know much about Ethan’s father, but his love for his mother is written on his face. He doesn’t want her to suffer and losing her would crush him.
“I bet you’re sorry you came now, aren’t you?” he teases, averting his eyes. My fingers want to reach for him and comfort him somehow. “But I’m glad you’re here.”
“I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be.” I mean it. I hate hospitals, but I also hate sitting at home alone. I enjoyed last evening with Ethan and staying in his bed through the night. I just want to be near him, which is strange because I no longer like to be around people.
Sitting in the outer room while Ethan goes with his mother, I thumb through the outdated magazines and then look through my phone although I don’t use social media anymore.
“Excuse me, but you look so familiar,” a feminine voice says beside me.
I look up at her, prepared for the reality to hit her when she sees my entire face. The shock. The horror. The realization she’s wrong.
“I get that a lot,” I snark, sarcasm as thick as the grooves in my cheek.
“Honestly, are you someone? Because I can’t place it, but you must be, right?” She doesn’t let it go, snapping her fingers as if it will help her think faster. She’s dressed in scrubs, so she obviously works here. She’s looking over my head as she concentrates, and then her face lights up as though the truth has come to her. She squeals, and I want to cover my ears.
“Ethan.”
I twist in my seat to see the reason for her bright cheeks. She circles the set of chairs and walks straight to him, ready to slip her arms around his neck until he catches her wrists and holds them down to her sides. His eyes shift to me and then back to the busty brunette before him. She isn’t classically beautiful, which is totally judge-y of me. She’s more hometown honey with a full body, heavy breasts, and child-bearing hips.
Is that who he wants? My tall-ish, thin frame is no comparison for hers. I have small breasts and no hips. I’ve worked hard to keep myself the size I am, but at what cost? I’ll never have what she has, yet I know the way the world works. She wants how I look. Thin. Fit. Tall. It’s so backward how women think of themselves and compare themselves to each other.
“Ethan Scott, I’ve still got a bone to pick with you,” she teases, all gushing and squealish. My brow hitches as I watch her struggle under his grasp at her wrists. “You ditched me the other night after promising to meet me in the—”
“Crystal, I was drunk the other night. You wouldn’t have wanted that,” he says, trying to keep his voice low as he looks over his shoulder. I’m the only one close enough to hear them, and I’m getting an earful.
“You know I want whatever you offer,” Crystal-girl says, and now I just feel sorry for her. What woman wants a drunk man? “I’m so surprised to see you here.”
“I’m here for my mom.”
Her excitement wanes when she realizes it isn’t for her. “Oh. Oh, right. I’m so sorry. We’re part of the meal train, sending over casseroles and dinners for your father and her.” Despite her generosity, it doesn’t seem to be winning her any favors with Ethan.
“Thank you,” he says, his voice curt as his eyes shift to me again. I don’t know if he wants me to save him from her or keep my distance. Again, poor social cue interpretation on my part, so I let him drown under this woman’s overeager attention a few more minutes before she excuses herself to get back to work.