Page 67 of Faking it with my Bad Boy Crush

"Three different lawyers called this afternoon. All of them with urgent cases, all needing consultation immediately. Then Richard called with an update on the criminal investigation—the prosecutor wants me to testify next month about the document analysis. And Marcus's attorney called threatening to escalate the civil suit unless I settle by Friday." He ran his hand through his hair, the gesture frustrated and exhausted. "I'm sorry. I meant to be here at seven, but the calls kept coming and I couldn't—"

His phone rang again. He looked at the screen and winced.

"Answer it," I said. "It's okay."

"It's not okay. We're supposed to talk—"

"Answer the phone, Ethan."

He did, and I watched his expression shift from apologetic to shocked to grim as whoever was on the other end delivered their message.

"When?" he asked. "How long will that take?" A pause. "No, I understand. Yes, I can be there tomorrow. First thing." He hung up, staring at his phone like it had betrayed him.

"What's wrong?"

"That was the state bar. They want another interview tomorrow morning in Seattle. Someone filed an additionalcomplaint, and they need to address it before making their final decision on my case." He looked at me, and I saw fear in his blue eyes. "Maya, I have to go back to Seattle. Tomorrow. And I don't know when I'll be back."

"Another complaint? From who?"

"They wouldn't say. But given the timing, probably someone from my old firm. Maybe one of the opposing counsel from the Lopez case." He set down his phone like it was something dangerous. "They said to prepare for an all-day interview, potentially multiple days if the investigation expands. I need to bring all my documentation, timeline of events, justification for every decision I made."

"So you're leaving tomorrow."

"First ferry out. I'm sorry. I know we were supposed to talk tonight, figure out what comes next, but—"

His phone rang again. A Seattle number he didn't recognize.

"Don't answer it," I said. "Please. Just give me ten minutes without your phone ringing. Ten minutes to say what I need to say."

Ethan silenced the phone, setting it face-down on my kitchen counter. "Okay. Ten minutes. No interruptions."

I took a breath, gathering my thoughts. This wasn't how I'd planned this conversation—not with him stressed and anxious and leaving for Seattle tomorrow. But I needed to say it anyway.

"I want you to stay," I said simply. "After the ethics investigation, after Marcus's civil suit is resolved, after all of this legal chaos settles. I want you to stay on Lopez Island. Build a life here. With me."

Ethan's expression softened. "Maya—"

"Let me finish." I moved closer. "I know it's complicated. I know your future is uncertain and you don't know if you'll keep your license or what kind of work you'll be able to do. But I don't care about those complications. I care about you. Aboutus. About building something real instead of just surviving crisis after crisis."

"I want that too," he said quietly. "More than I can explain. But I don't know if it's possible right now. I'm facing potential disbarment, bankruptcy from Marcus's civil suit, complete career destruction. I can't ask you to build a life with someone who has nothing to offer."

"You have everything to offer." My voice was fierce now. "Integrity. Principles. The courage to do the right thing even when it costs everything. That's not nothing, Ethan. That's everything."

"But practically—"

"Practically, we figure it out together. You find new work, whether that's law or something else. I keep running the bakery. We build slowly, carefully, one day at a time." I took his hands. "But we do it together. As partners. Not as separate people trying to survive separate crises."

Ethan pulled me close, his forehead resting against mine. "I don't deserve you."

"Stop saying that. You deserve someone who sees your value. Who understands what you sacrificed and why it mattered." I pulled back enough to meet his eyes. "And I see you, Ethan. Completely. The lawyer who destroyed his career for principles. The man who shows up at dawn with coffee. The person who built me a business plan at midnight and defended my credentials to anyone who questioned them. I see all of it, and I choose all of it."

"I choose you, too." His voice was raw, honest. "Whatever happens in Seattle, whatever the state bar decides, whatever my future looks like—I choose you."

We kissed, deep and desperate, like we could somehow compress all our feelings into this one moment before he had to leave.

His phone rang again. And again. And again.

"I have to look," Ethan said reluctantly, pulling away. "It might be important."