Page 75 of The Matchmaker's Cottage

Julia nodded, her voice steady but hesitant. “They said…if I wanted to, I could have the cottage.”

Another loaded silence. The gears turned rustily in Ethan’s head, trying to process what Julia was saying. The cottage? Their summer retreat? The cottage by the lake?

“They’d sell it to me for practically nothing so I could turn it into a…well, something.” He saw her courage flounder, then watched as she straightened herself, took a deep breath, and said with more certainty, “A bed-and-breakfast.”

The words hung in the air between them, weighty and fragile all at once. “They said it felt right—like it was meant to be more than just an old summer house gathering dust.”

The words stung, though Ethan knew they were true. It had been years since he had been up there, especially now that they were no longer in Buffalo and instead had gone away for school in New York City, and the drive had gone from under two hours to almost six. It wasn’t like everyone was gung ho to drive up to the lake, either, during their winter break visits home.

It wasn’t like there had been that many winter break visits home.

In a way, Ethan had always known it was inevitable—that one day the cottage would be either saved or lost entirely.

But he hadn’t expected Julia to be the one to decide.

Yes, she had always been part of the family in ways that had little to do with blood. His parents had treated her like a daughter from the very beginning, especially on the heels of so many pregnancy attempts and losses. Buthewas their son. Had they not even thought to consider where he stood in all this? After all the time and effort he had put into keeping them together, ensuring that those summers at the cottage actually happened, that everyone was having fun, that the wine was imbibed within moderation, and that his parents had gotten time to themselves to enjoy their space while he took Julia off on adventures and made the most of each day.

Julia. Gem.

Her being a part of the cottage’s future felt inevitable. Butnot at the expense of his own role. The thought of her taking on the old place—of her pouring herself into it—made something in his chest go tight. Yes, the cottage deserved better than to crumble into memory, he knew that. And he knew she could give it that.

He just didn’t know what that meant forhim.

Ethan blinked. “They just decided that? Out of the blue?”

“Well, no,” she said quickly. “They said they were going to talk to you about it, too. To tell you what their thoughts were. I think they figured…” She shook her head, not completing her thought. “They wanted to make sure I was on board first, that I would accept it, before letting you know their plan. I think they thought, maybe”—she hesitated again, then persevered this time—“maybe if webothwanted it, we could even take it on together.” Her sharp intake of breath was the only hint at the nerves that roiled beneath.

“Ultimately,” she continued resolutely, “they’d rather see it cared for than let it keep falling apart. And they think I could help do it.”

He let out a breath, a small, disbelieving laugh, the words landing like a sucker punch. “They think you could do it. Just like that.”

Julia hesitated, likely picking up on his tone, knowing he sounded strangled and unable to get himself in check. Her fingers continued to play with a loose thread on her sleeve.

“Well, they did also say…” she continued, and he hated himself for the slight nervous quaver in her voice even as anger roiled somewhere deep inside him. “They also think you’d help me.”

Oh, great. So he could be her assistant. Ethan the Dumbass, set to be Julia’s slave. That was what his parents thought he could do best—be thehelp. No matter how often he had goneout of his way to prove himself, they would never see him as more than the goofy hockey-playing kid who was the foil to Julia’s perfect, intelligent, calm centeredness.

A sharp edge crept into his voice. “Help you?” He shifted forward, studying her face. “So, what? They’re expecting me to…just drop everything? Move back and play the charming groundskeeper for your little B-and-B dream?”

“It’s not like that,” she said, blinking rapidly at his words. “I know it sounds like I’m just expecting you to jump in, but I’m not. I just…I thought because it’s your family’s cottage—because you loved it once, too—that maybe you’d want to help bring it back to life.” She shook her head, eyes welling. He felt like a heel, deep down, but the anger and the hurt were too close to the surface for him to check himself. “I didn’t want to bring it up like this, but I felt bad that they told me about it first. I know things aren’t…perfect between you three. But you are their son. I know this is just their way of getting you to…be a part of it. You know?”

He couldn’t hear the hope in her voice. Couldn’t listen for another second.

Ethan pushed himself away from the door, crossing to the window in a few short strides. He didn’t look at her when he spoke.

“And if I don’t?”

“Don’t…what?”

“Don’t want to be a part of it,” he responded flatly.

She took a deep breath. For a while, she didn’t speak. And then: “I would do it myself, then. But I think they were hoping—Iwas hoping—it wouldn’t have to be just me.”

His mind was racing at a speed he could barely even keep up with. Where had she gotten the money? Even if his parentswere giving it to her for practically nothing, there were still taxes, insurance, endless repairs—how was she going to afford that? The cottage needed more than a fresh coat of paint; that much he knew, even if it had been years since he had seen it—it needed a full resurrection. And if she couldn’t afford to do it on her own, what then? He knew Julia—she would throw herself into it until there was nothing left of her. And he would be the one watching, standing by while she poured every last ounce of herself into something he wasn’t sure he wanted to share.

The room went still except for the faint hum of the city outside. He stared out into the night, shoulders tight, feeling the quiet apartment shrink around them, the weight of old promises settling between them like dust.

Before he could fully grasp what he was doing, he was in front of her, his steps eating the ground, his hand coming up to cup her cheek almost of its own volition. He wanted to—what? Strangle her? Silence her? Whatever his animalistic intent was, his fingers veered off course and slid across her smooth skin, his thumb resting on the corner of her lips, his fingertips in her hair.