I don’t know how she can laugh about that because all I feel is anger. At her parents, for the people who were supposed to care for her. They should have fought harder to bring her back. They should have loved harder.
“Do you want to go and get a steak?” I offer with a tight throat. “The biggest one we can find. A double tomahawk.”
“Nope.” She pulls her head back to look at my face. “I’ve learned some mean recipes, so we are eating noodles tonight.”
My eyes dart between hers, and I think I recognize how important it is to her to have this shared meal.
“We’re having noodles tonight.” My voice is firm, leaving zero other suggestions in meal choices for the evening.
With a giant smile on her beautiful face, she lifts up on her tippytoes, plants a quick kiss on my lips, and flies away to the stove.
I wash my hands and walk to the fridge. “Do you want anything to drink?”
“I’ll take whatever you’ll be drinking.”
Fuck, I wanted bourbon, but Maeve is not the bourbon type—I saw how sour her face became when I was drinking it at the hotel. So I grab a bottle of red wine and pour it in two glasses. Soon, she places two steaming bowls on the kitchen island and takes a seat next to me. With her crisscrossed legs in a yoga pose and bare legs, my attention is not on the bowls in front of me.
“So,” her voice brings me back to the food, “we’ve got myfavorite recipe I found on YouTube a year ago. It’s got everything you might want to eat.”
I glance at the artfully arranged bowl. Even the egg, cut in half, looks enticing. Taking the chopsticks and pulling the noodles out, I’m determined to eat it even if the food tastes like shit. I’ve never been a noodles guy, but I’ll become one if she wants me to.
To my surprise, the food tastes amazing. Quickly finishing my bowl, I drink the broth and ask for seconds. My request must make her happy because she jumps to her feet with a giant smile on her face and fixes me another bowl.
We chat about nothing and everything. The mood is light, the words are flowing. Until I bring up her escape. But I need to know. I need to know what happened that made her run away from the house where she had everything and go to poverty where she had to sleep in the coffee shop. Yes, she has shit for parents. It’s understandable. But I’m sure there was some major catalyst in this story.
“Why did you leave your parents’ house, Maeve?”
My question makes her pause with chopsticks halfway to her mouth.
“Because I wasn’t happy there.” Her mood gets cloudier with every word.
“I bet you weren’t.” It’s time to push. I need to know, no matter how much it will hurt. Because I need to know whom I’ll need to hurt. “But what really made you run away?” I move my chair closer to her. “What happened, Maeve? Tell me.”
She sucks her lip between her teeth, contemplating if she should continue. And I just know I’m not going to like the story.
“Maeve.” I gently place my hand on her knee, giving her the comfort to continue.
“They wanted me to marry this awful dude who was too handsy.”
I feel my jaw clench shut. The desire to smash her father’s face is strong. For trying to marry his eighteen-year-old daughter to some dickhead. And then to punch said dickhead. Many, many, many times.
“I suspect your parents didn’t do anything to protect you?” My voice sounds foreign to me. Like I’m witnessing myself speak from out of my body.
“Protect?” Her short-lived laugh is sad. “Theywantedme to marry him. Didn’t matter what he did.”
Another stab in my chest. “Did he?—”
“Nah.” She rolls her eyes. “I’d never let a dickhead like him touch me when I didn’t want him to. So he probably has one testicle less after our dinner. Whatever.” She shrugs her shoulder nonchalantly. “I’m over it.”
I squeeze my hand on her knee, not feelingover it. I’ll find that man. And I’ll talk to him, making sure he has no balls left after. And then I’ll talk to her father—fuck the shares.
“Ezra?” Her soft voice calls out to me, bringing me back from the dark place I’m in. “It’s okay. I’m really over it. Look where it got me.” Her gentle smile lights up some of the dark corners of my mind, making me want to believe her. But it doesn’t mean I won’t be having the talks with those douchebags. Maeve has never had anyone in her corner before, but now she has me. And I can be a vicious motherfucker when someone of mine is touched. And she is mine.
“Ezra?” she calls again. “I got you something.”
I rear back in surprise. “You got me something?”
“Yes. Hold on.”
