Since she actually addressed Willow, she had to look up at her to avoid overt rudeness. Offering a casual smile, Willow said, “You’re right, I don’t think we have.”
Karen’s fake smile stretched even wider. “I’m Karen, a friend of Amanda’s.”
Willow tilted her head slightly, but held her smile. “I’m Willow, a friend of Ethan’s.”
She nodded, then looked back at Ethan. “Well, it was nice seeing you again.”
“Yeah, it’s been almost a whole week,” Ethan retorted, his smile taut.
Her husband was coming back with their food, so Karen made her way back to their table and Ethan lost his smile, drumming his fingertips on the table, debating what to do. Try to get ahead of it and tell Amanda himself? Of course, she would figure out that he was only telling her after he’d already been seen.
Of course, he had already told her he’d been in contact with Willow again.
He’d also emphasized it had only been once and deliberately played it off so she wouldn’t lose her shit.
“That was pleasant,” Willow remarked.
“That’s definitely the word I was searching for.”
“Now what?” she asked, watching him carefully.
Ethan shrugged, grabbing his fork and digging into his rice. “Fuck it.”
“Yeah?” she questioned, a little uncertainly.
“Yep,” he replied before taking a bite.
Willow watched him for a moment, then unrolled her utensils and grabbed her own fork, gathering up a fork full of rice. “I think I like that.”
He wasn’t entirely sure he liked it, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. Plus, despite the suffocating feeling of guilt that initially enveloped him, he wasn’t cheating; he and Amanda had been living in separate homes for over six months, and she wouldn’t even let him see the kids without her, so they weren’t exactly on the road to recovery.
He hated knowing with a certainty that it would be so much worse because it was Willow he’d been spotted with. Any random woman he hadn’t known before would’ve been a different story, but to be seen on what would look like a date with her….
Amanda was going to be pissed.
Willow perched on the edge of the couch, both hands covering her eyes, a grin on her face, and her legs bouncing with excitement.
“Did you wrap it? Should I keep my eyes covered? It’s a pony, isn’t it?”
Ethan smiled as he put the big brown box the first present had been shipped in on the coffee table. “I did not wrap it. I’m terrible at wrapping presents. It came in a box though.”
“Ponies don’t come in boxes.”
“I’ve seen your yard; you have nowhere to put a pony.”
Nodding, she said, “Yeah, that’s a great point. Did you get me a new yard?”
“I did—and it fit in a box. Go figure.”
“That’s pretty impressive. I want to meet the person who packed this box—I feel like I should shake their hand.”
“You can uncover your eyes now.”
She didn’t. “Will I see what it is? I feel like not having to unwrap it is too easy. You should make me work for it.”
“It’s in a box,” he assured her.
Slowly moving her hands away, her eyes shot straight to the box. Then, without further delay, she leaned forward and dug in.