Taking Responsibility

From her office, Nadine drove straight to the meeting place Ethan had texted the night before, Terrazza, the restaurant at Casa del Mar in Santa Monica.

She didn't know what she expected, but it sure as hell wasn't this. A luxury beachfront hotel. Mediterranean-Californian menu. High ceilings, terracotta tiles, palms in ceramic pots, warm ocean breeze filtering through open windows. It was the kind of place where brunch cost more than her weekly grocery bill. The kind of place people took their mistresses, not the woman they accidentally knocked up.

Still, she followed the hostess inside. The view alone was enough to punch the breath out of her, waves glittering like diamonds under the late morning sun, surfers bobbing in the distance. Classic L.A., annoyingly perfect.

"Mr. Clarke's reservation," she said quietly.

The hostess smiled, nodded, and led her toward a table near the window. Elegant rattan chairs, white-linen napkins, silver cutlery so polished she could see her tired reflection.

Of course he wasn't here yet.

Nadine sat down, pretending to read the menu. Wagyu burger, $34. Crab and avocado salad, $27. Wood-fired flatbread with truffle mushrooms, $26. Oysters, market price. Of course it was market price.

A tall glass of sparkling water was placed in front of her. She took a slow sip and tried not to think about how many ways this meeting could go to hell.

It didn't take long.

Ethan arrived not even ten minutes later. Dark jeans. Rolled-up sleeves. That same stupid expensive cologne lavender and musk, clean and cocky. His sunglasses were shoved into the neckline of his shirt. His hair, of course, perfect.

He smiled like this was a normal day. "Hey. Did you wait long?"

"No," Nadine said coolly. "I just got here."

He took the seat across from her, still smiling. "You eaten?"

"I'm fine."

"Drink?"

"Sparkling water's good."

Ethan waved over the server and ordered an iced espresso for himself. Then he turned back to her, voice level.

"So, about the baby… I've thought about it. I'm taking responsibility. I'll marry you."

Nadine blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"

He looked genuinely confused by her reaction. "I said I'm marrying you. You'll be my wife, I'll be your husband. We'll raise the baby together."

For a second, she forgot how to think.

Was he serious?

Marriage?

Absolutely not. What the hell was this? 1950?

She took a breath, trying to sound calm even though her pulse was sprinting. "I'm not asking you to marry me. You can be the legal father. I'm not gonna stop you from being in the baby's life. But marriage? That was never part of the deal."

"You want me to take responsibility," he said, voice low and suddenly all sharp edges, "but you don't want to get married?"

"Correct."

He leaned back like he was processing a very complicated math problem. His jaw clenched just enough to confirm she'd hit a nerve.

"So, you don't want to marry me?" he repeated, clearly struggling with the concept.

"I just said that." She tilted her head. "We can raise a human without raising each other's blood pressure."

He stared at her for a long beat, like he was waiting for her to admit it was all a joke.

Then, dead serious, "I'm taking responsibility. And I'm marrying you."

She blinked. "You're not hearing me."

"Oh, I heard you," he said, calm and irritatingly firm. "You're the one not listening. I said I'm marrying you."

She squinted at him like he was speaking in Morse code. "You think saying it twice makes it magically true?"

"I'm not a deadbeat," he shot back. "You're carrying my kid. I'm gonna do what's right. End of story."

"Unbelievable."

"Consistent," he replied without missing a beat, like this was his version of a job interview.

She clenched her jaw so tight she was surprised her molars didn't crack. Her options at this point were walk out or throw the overpriced sparkling water in his face. God, she was tempted.

"Fine," she snapped. "I'll think about what you said."

He gave a slow, satisfied nod, like he'd just closed a business deal.

But she wasn't fooled.

This wasn't a conversation. This was a declaration of war.

She'd just poked a very smug, very stubborn wolf. And now she had to figure out what the hell to do with him.

***

Nadine and Ethan froze at the entrance of Casa del Mar.

The moment they stepped outside, a wall of camera flashes exploded in front of them. Paparazzi swarmed like seagulls on dropped French fries. Nadine instinctively threw up a hand to shield her face, blinking like she'd just walked into a solar flare.

"Ethan! Who's the mystery woman?"

"Is she your new girlfriend?"

"Ethan, look over here!"

"Ethan! Ethan!"

The shouting. The flashes. The mics shoved in their faces. Nadine could barely process any of it. It felt like being thrown into the center of a tornado made entirely of shouting photographers and desperate headlines.

She didn't even know which question belonged to which voice. It was just noise everywhere. Ethan, on the other hand, said nothing. He looked like this was just a Tuesday. Calm, detached, borderline bored. He grabbed her hand without warning and tugged her toward the parking lot.

"Move," he muttered under his breath to no one in particular, cutting through the swarm like he'd done it a hundred times before.

He opened the door to his car, practically shoved her inside, and then jumped in and sped out of the scene like his life depended on it.

Once they were out on the road, Nadine turned to him with a look that could've melted steel.

"Okay, what the hell was that? Who the hell are you? Why were there cameras?! Are you like… I don't know, a Marvel villain? Secret tech billionaire? What?"

Ethan glanced at her, slightly amused. "Wait. You seriously don't know who I am?"

She stared. "Should i?"

"I'm Ethan Clarke," he said, as if that clarified anything.

She blinked. "And?"

He chuckled. "Lead singer of The Storm. The band."

Nadine blinked. "Oh? I think I've heard you on the radio."

"You're joking."

"Nope."

He looked at her sideways. "We've been headlining across America for the last year. Sold out tours, Billboard Top Ten, all that."

Nadine's expression stayed cool, but she gave a small nod. "Well… congrats, I guess."

Ethan tilted his head. "So what, you only knew about us from the radio?"

She shrugged casually. "Yeah. I mean, I've heard a couple of your songs. Mostly while driving or waiting on hold."

He raised a brow. "That's it?"

"Sorry to bruise your rockstar ego," she said, lips twitching. "But I've been kind of busy, you know… growing a human."

Ethan shook his head, clearly not used to being unknown.

She turned to the window, face flushed with embarrassment and irritation.

Then Nadine mumbled, "Great. Just my luck. One random night and boom... rockstar baby daddy. This feels like a bad rom com that forgot to be funny."

***