Chapter 4 Unfinished business.

Ethan

Ethan barely had time to process Claire's unexpected visit before Celeste disappeared into the guest room for the night. He stood in the living room, running a hand down his face as the tension from the encounter settled into his bones.

Oliver was still curled up on the couch, Benny clutched in his hands. He wasn't upset, which was a relief, but he was watching Ethan carefully.

"You okay, buddy?" Ethan asked.

Oliver nodded slowly. "Is Celeste staying for a long time?"

Ethan exhaled. "Yeah."

Oliver processed this, hugging Benny a little tighter. "Okay."

That was it. No more questions, no complaints. Just quiet acceptance.

Ethan wasn't sure if that made him feel better or worse.

Celeste

Celeste sat on the edge of her new bed, staring at the unfamiliar surroundings. The room was nice-too nice, really. A guest room that had probably never been used, decorated with just enough warmth to feel inviting but still impersonal.

Much like the rest of the house.

She let out a slow breath and rubbed her temples. Claire's sudden appearance had shaken things up faster than she'd expected.

Not that she was surprised.

Ex-wives didn't just walk in on their ex-husbands' new "relationships" without a reason. Claire clearly wasn't convinced by the arrangement. And that meant she was going to be a problem.

Celeste hated problems.

A knock on the door broke through her thoughts.

She looked up just as Ethan pushed it open, his expression unreadable. "You settled?"

"More or less," she said, crossing her arms. "You gonna tell me why your ex-wife barged in like she still lives here?"

Ethan sighed. "Claire doesn't need an invitation. She and I-there are things we still have to deal with. Mostly about Oliver."

Celeste arched an eyebrow. "You think she's gonna cause trouble?"

Ethan gave a humourless chuckle. "Claire doesn't cause trouble. She controls it."

Celeste frowned. "And you just let her?"

His jaw tightened. "It's not that simple."

Celeste studied him for a moment. He was holding something back-something deeper than just a difficult co-parenting situation. But she wasn't about to pry.

Not yet.

She leaned back against the headboard. "Well, whatever this is between you two, you better figure it out fast. Because she's watching us, Ethan. And if she suspects this isn't real..."

Ethan's eyes darkened. "I know."

Celeste held his gaze. "Then what are you gonna do about it?"

Claire

Claire sat in her car outside Ethan's house, fingers tapping rhythmically against the steering wheel.

She hadn't planned on showing up tonight, but when she'd heard about Celeste moving in, she couldn't resist.

She needed to see her.

And now she had.

She wasn't convinced.

Something about Celeste didn't fit. The way she held herself, the way she spoke to Ethan-it wasn't the way a woman in love acted. It was careful. Measured.

A game.

Claire had played enough of her own to recognise one.

And if Ethan thought she was going to sit back and let some stranger step into Oliver's life without a fight, he was dead wrong.

She started the car, gripping the wheel tighter.

This wasn't over.

Not even close.

Ethan

Ethan barely slept.

By the time morning rolled around, he was already awake, sitting in his office with a coffee he hadn't touched.

Claire was a problem. She always had been. But now, she had a reason to dig deeper.

And the last thing he needed was her figuring out the truth about Celeste.

A soft knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts.

He turned to see Oliver standing in the doorway, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"Dad?"

Ethan set his mug down. "Yeah, buddy?"

Oliver hesitated, then climbed onto the chair across from him.

"Are you mad at Mom?"

Ethan exhaled. "No. Why?"

Oliver shrugged, fiddling with Benny's ears. "She didn't like Celeste."

Ethan tensed. "What makes you say that?"

Oliver thought for a moment. "She looked at her like she looks at Grandma's cooking."

Ethan blinked. "Like what now?"

Oliver wrinkled his nose. "Like she's trying to be polite but really, really doesn't want to eat it."

Ethan couldn't help it-he let out a quiet laugh.

It was a surprisingly accurate observation.

But it also meant Oliver was paying more attention than Ethan had realised.

"Mom's just... being careful," Ethan said carefully. "She doesn't know Celeste yet."

Oliver considered that, then nodded. "Okay."

But he didn't look convinced.

Celeste

Celeste wasn't a morning person.

She had planned to sleep in a little, but the smell of coffee had pulled her out of bed.

When she entered the kitchen, she found Ethan standing at the counter, staring into his cup like it had personally offended him.

"Rough night?" she asked, grabbing a mug.

Ethan grunted. "Claire's going to be a problem."

Celeste sighed. "Yeah, I figured. She didn't look too happy to see me."

"She's never happy to see anyone she doesn't control."

Celeste raised an eyebrow. "That's a little concerning."

Ethan glanced at her. "You have no idea."

Before Celeste could respond, Oliver wandered into the kitchen, still clutching Benny.

He hesitated for a moment when he saw Celeste, then offered a small wave.

Celeste smiled. "Morning."

"Morning," he murmured, climbing onto one of the chairs.

Ethan handed him a plate of toast without a word. It was a quiet routine, one that Celeste could tell had been in place for a while.

She watched as Oliver nibbled on his breakfast, his gaze flicking toward her every few seconds.

She decided to break the ice. "Did you sleep well?"

Oliver nodded. "Did you?"

Celeste grinned. "I think your dad's house is too quiet. I'm used to more noise."

Oliver tilted his head. "Like what?"

"Like car horns, loud neighbours, music from the apartment next door..." She shrugged. "It's weird when everything is so still."

Oliver considered this, then said, "You can hear the wind here."

Celeste smiled. "Yeah?"

Oliver nodded, looking out the window. "When it's really quiet, you can hear it in the trees."

Celeste followed his gaze. The backyard was bigger than she'd expected, lined with trees that swayed gently in the morning breeze.

Maybe the quiet wasn't so bad.

Maybe she could get used to it.

For a little while, at least.