My Clingy CEO Husband

###Chapter 60: I Have a Nickname Now, Too

Maxine Rhodes was taken aback at first, but then she understood the deeper meaning behind his words. A soft laugh escaped her lips, and a subtle ripple spread through her heart.

The car merged back into traffic. As they passed a charming flower shop, Ethan Hawthorne suddenly flicked on his turn signal and pulled the car smoothly to the side of the road.

"Wait in the car for me." He unbuckled his seatbelt, his movements crisp and efficient.

"Hm?" Maxine Rhodes looked at him, puzzled.

Ethan Hawthorne turned to the side, his gaze landing on her face. "What kind of flowers do you want?"

Seeing that she didn’t immediately register what was happening, he elaborated, a serious light settling in his dark eyes. "The flowers Benjamin Sterling failed to give you... I can."

His expression was like that of a young boy, unwilling to be outdone.

Maxine Rhodes watched him, this side of him so different from his usual composed demeanor. A mix of amusement and exasperation spread through her, finally blossoming into a faint smile on her lips.

She answered compliantly, "Baby’s breath."

The corner of Ethan Hawthorne’s lips curved up. "Alright."

He pushed open the door and got out of the car, his tall, straight figure melting into the warm, yellow light of the flower shop.

Through the car window, Maxine Rhodes watched him. He stood in front of the flower display, speaking intently with the shopkeeper. Then, amidst a profusion of blossoms, he carefully selected the purest white baby’s breath, gathering them into a bouquet.

When he returned to the car, he brought with him the light scent of flowers. He handed her the bouquet of starry white blossoms, and in that moment, Maxine Rhodes felt as if something soft had gently nudged her heart.

"Thank you, Mr. Hawthorne," she said as she took them.

Ethan Hawthorne started the car, the corners of his lips lifting in a pleased smile. He kept his eyes on the road ahead. "You know, you don’t always have to call me Mr. Hawthorne."

Maxine Rhodes’s fingertips gently caressed the delicate baby’s breath as she teased, "If I don’t call you Mr. Hawthorne, then what? Mr. Hawthorne? Ethan Hawthorne? Ethan? Or... Ethie?"

The last name made Ethan Hawthorne chuckle, his low, pleasant laughter echoing in the enclosed space of the car.

’Logically, since they were married, he really wanted to hear her call him ’husband,’ and he wanted to call her ’wife’ in return.’

’But that felt too rushed. He didn’t want to pressure her in any way.’

’He would rather wait for the day she called him that willingly, from the bottom of her heart.’

He suppressed the longing in his heart and left the choice entirely to her. His tone was indulgent. "Whatever you like is fine."

Then, he casually asked, "What about you? Do you have any nicknames?"

Maxine Rhodes froze for a moment.

’Nicknames were pet names given by people close to you. In her memories, her parents always had a stern expression, calling her by her full name, Maxine Rhodes. Their tone was always demanding and impatient, as if they were addressing a stranger.’

’She used to secretly envy the little girl next door, whose mother would call her "sweetie" or "honey" in a soft, gentle accent. For Maxine, even such a simple nickname was an impossible luxury.’

A flicker of sadness passed through her eyes, quickly concealed by her thick, long lashes.

"I don’t think... I have a nickname." Her voice sounded calm, yet it was as if it were coated in a thin layer of dust. "Susie Summers calls me Max, though."

’She didn’t mention what Bubbles called her, afraid Ethan Hawthorne might get the wrong idea.’

Ethan Hawthorne accurately caught her momentary distraction and evasion. The unspoken sorrow behind her words, ’I don’t have a nickname,’ made his heart ache as if something had gently squeezed it.

"Max, huh... I won’t use a name someone else has already used."

His voice carried an understated sort of dominance.

He mulled it over for a moment, then turned his head to glance at her. His gaze was gentle and focused, his tone tentative. "Then how about I call you... Maxi? Is that okay?"

’Maxi?’

The name was overly intimate, even carrying a hint of childish affection. Maxine Rhodes’s heart skipped a beat, and her fingertips curled unconsciously.

’This was completely different from someone like Bubbles, who was a social butterfly and could call any good friend "babe" without a second thought. That was a nickname devoid of any real personal sentiment.’

’But Ethan Hawthorne’s low, lingering murmur of "Maxi" was too close, so close that she instinctively wanted to put her guard up.’

’Yet, beneath that guard, a deeper, long-suppressed desire was quietly awakened by this unique endearment.’

’No one had ever called her this. Besides Susie Summers, it felt like no one had ever treated her like a treasure, enveloping her in such a gentle word.’

’I should refuse,’ she thought. ’This crosses the boundaries of our contract...’

’But the part of her heart that had been a wasteland for far too long greedily drank in this sudden warmth.’

She lowered her gaze, her long lashes trembling. After a few seconds of silence, she answered in a voice so quiet it was almost a whisper, "Suit yourself."

This reaction, which was tantamount to a yes, was less about indulging him and more about indulging the part of herself, deep down, that desperately wanted to be cherished.

Ethan Hawthorne clearly caught her fleeting stiffness and the acquiescence that followed. Immense joy exploded in his chest, but he kept his expression restrained. Only the smile in his eyes spread like starlight.

Seizing the opportunity, he murmured her new name, as if to confirm his exclusive right to use it. "Maxi."

"Mm."

"Maxi."

"What is it?"

"Maxi."

"Focus on driving."

She answered a little abruptly, deliberately turning her head to gaze at the fleeting scenery outside. It was a flimsy attempt to hide the smile tugging at her lips and her racing heart, but she couldn’t stop the heat from creeping up her ears.

Completely satisfied, Ethan Hawthorne turned his attention back to the road. His voice, colored by the gentle certainty of the evening breeze, was soft. "Alright. Let’s go home."