The CEO Secret First Love

CHAPTER 3: MOM’S SUSPICIOUS DINNER

POV: Ethan Cole

Margaret opened the front door before Ethan could knock twice.

“There you are,” she said, smiling wide. “I was beginning to think my son had finally stopped bringing you home.”

She pulled him into a firm, warm hug right on the porch. Ethan smiled against her shoulder and hugged her back.

The Blake house had always felt like a second home. He knew the soft glow of the entryway light, the smell of roasting garlic from the kitchen, and the comfortable warmth of the floors.

Adrian appeared in the hallway a second later. He reached for Ethan’s coat without a word.

“I can hang it up myself,” Ethan said, unbuttoning it.

Adrian ignored him, took the coat from his hands, and hung it carefully on the third brass hook by the stairs.

“You’re late,” Adrian said, adjusting his cuffs.

“It’s five minutes past seven.”

“Still late.”

Margaret laughed and lightly swatted her son’s arm. “Ignore him, Ethan. Come inside. Dinner is almost ready. I won’t have you two arguing before we even sit down.”

They had only been sitting on the leather couch, a few minutes when the doorbell rang.

Sophie Bennett stepped into the foyer with the same bright energy she had carried since they were children. She hugged Margaret first, then turned to the living room.

“Look at this,” she said, hands on her hips. “The inseparable pair still showing up together on a Saturday night. Don’t you two ever take a break from each other?”

Ethan stood and opened his arms. “It’s good to see you, Sophie.”

She hugged him tightly, kicked off her shoes, and dropped onto the couch right beside him. Adrian gave her a short nod from his armchair, a small smile at the corner of his mouth.

“You’re actually early for once,” he said.

“I had to beat the traffic,” Sophie answered, leaning back. “Besides, I wanted to see if you two still finish each other’s sentences like an old married couple.”

Margaret sat in her rocking chair near the fireplace and stayed quiet, but her eyes moved carefully between the three of them.

Sophie turned to Ethan. “Do you remember the summer we tried to build that treehouse in my backyard, and Adrian fell right out of the oak tree?”

Ethan grinned. “I remember you laughing so hard you almost fell off the ladder yourself.”

“And you climbed up after him like some kind of heroic paramedic,” Sophie said, nudging his knee. “You always did that. Every time Adrian scraped a knee, you were right there with a bandage.”

Adrian shook his head. “I was fine.”

“You were twelve and pretending your arm wasn’t scraped up,” Sophie shot back. “Ethan cleaned the cut while you sat on the grass complaining about the sting.”

The three of them slipped easily into old stories school days, hot July afternoons at the lake, the night they got caught sneaking back into the house past midnight.

Margaret listened quietly, her gaze lingering on the way Ethan and Adrian interacted even while talking to Sophie.

When Margaret called them to dinner, they moved into the dining room. Sophie quickly took the seat beside Ethan. As they passed the dishes of roasted chicken and vegetables, she leaned a little closer.

“So what’s actually new with you outside of work?” she asked, putting green beans on his plate.

“Every time I call, you’re reviewing a contract or drafting a schedule. You never talk about your personal life.”

Ethan gave a small shrug. “There isn’t much to tell. The calendar keeps me busy.”

“You should make time for something else,” Sophie said, looking at him with genuine warmth. “You look great, by the way. Whatever you’re doing, it’s working.”

Across the table, Adrian had gone quiet. His fork rested against his plate. He pushed a roasted potato back and forth without eating it.

When Margaret asked him a direct question about the quarterly report, he gave a short, flat answer. Ethan glanced at him twice, puzzled. Normally Adrian was the first to jump in when Sophie teased them about their school days.

As the meal continued, Sophie mentioned the heavy rain that had hit the city earlier in the week.

“Remember that big storm when we were teenagers?” she asked with a laugh. “The one that flooded the lower roads?”

The memory rose in Ethan’s mind before he could stop it. He saw Adrian standing near the school gates without an umbrella, frowning at the pouring rain.

Ethan had handed over his own black umbrella without thinking, insisting Adrian take it, then walked the six blocks home in the freezing downpour.

He had spent three days in bed with a fever afterward. When Adrian found out, he had marched into Ethan’s bedroom, face dark with anger. He had not been angry about inconvenience. He had been furious because Ethan had risked his health for him.

Ethan looked up. Across the table, Adrian’s dark eyes met his. The shared memory hung between them, quiet and clear, but neither of them spoke of it.

Margaret reached for the pitcher and refilled the water glasses. When Ethan’s glass dropped low, Adrian reached across the table, picked up the bottle near his elbow, and filled Ethan’s glass to the top without looking up from his plate.

The motion was completely automatic, done with the ease of someone who had done it a thousand times. Ethan noticed. He always noticed every small, silent thing Adrian did.

Margaret caught Ethan looking at her son. She said nothing. She only offered a tiny, knowing smile, set the pitcher down, and turned back to a story Sophie was telling about her design firm.

An hour later the plates were cleared and Sophie had gathered her coat to leave. Ethan carried a stack of dessert bowls into the kitchen. The house was quiet now. The hallway clock ticked softly.

As he stepped toward the sink, he heard voices near the pantry. Margaret and Richard stood by the counter, speaking in low tones while Richard poured two cups of coffee. Ethan paused by the doorway, keeping still.

“They still haven’t figured it out, Richard,” Margaret said softly, her voice warm with amusement and affection.

Richard set the pot down and looked at her. “What do you mean by that?”

Margaret only smiled, picked up her mug, and said nothing more.

Ethan stood frozen near the counter, the bowls heavy in his hands.

He looked back toward the dining room where Adrian was quietly straightening the chairs, completely unaware of his mother’s words.

Ethan swallowed, set the bowls down without a sound, smoothed the front of his sweater, and took a slow breath to steady the tightness in his chest.

He walked back into the dining room to help Adrian finish clearing the table.