“Absolutely.”
“Good then,” he says with a nod, returning to his cheerful personality in the blink of an eye.
“What am I missing?” Ezra asks.
“Nothing, Brother.” Noah comes and wraps his arm around Ezra’s shoulder. “We survived the vulture ball. We can conquer the world next.”
The cloud over Ezra’s head darkens. “That might not happen.”
Noah’s face turns serious. “It will, Brother. It will.” Switching his attention to me, he asks, “Going home to relax, or shall we continue shenanigans in some dirty bar?”
“Maeve is going home,” Ezra answers for me without hesitation.
“Am I?” I ask with a quirked brow.
“George,” he calls out the driver who’s leaning on the side of the car. “Please take Mrs. King home.”
“Ezra?” I start with a questioning tone.
“Not now.” He shakes his head without even glancing at me. Noah and Martin are quiet. Their eyes run between Ezra and me, trying to figure out what will happen next. And this is where I understand that I will decide what happens next. I can start a fight, right here, in front of the building. With dozens of eyes trained on us. Or I can agree to a small defeatso I can win the war later. At home. When I have more control over the buttons Ezra likes having pushed.
So I say, “Okay.” Both Martin and Noah’s brows go up while I give them both a quick hug and rush to the car where George is waiting with an open door.
I’ll wait for Ezra and his buttons at home.
50
Maeve
But he never returns. Not during the night. Not in the morning. Leaving me wondering if everything he said yesterday to that woman was a lie and he actually decided to go and check what she has to offer.
By eleven in the morning, I can’t take it anymore and pick up the phone to call Martin. Even the fear of looking like a jealous idiot can’t stop me from trying to figure out where my husband slept last night.
“Yes, dear. What’s up?”His cheerful voice makes me think it’s actually his personality.
“Hey, Martin. How are you?”
He laughs.“I’m always good. How can I be of assistance?”
“I was wondering if… like, umm.”
“C’mon, spill the beans.”
“Is Ezra there?”
“He is.”His tone turns careful.“Why?”
He seemed to be on my side yesterday, but he’s also been working for Ezra for who knows how long. I don’t know what I can and cannot ask.
“Maeve,”he sighs, losing the humor.“What happened?”
“He didn’t come home last night, so I thought—” I let my words trail off, scared to appear too desperate.
“Well, now it makes sense.”
“What does?”
“His wrinkled face and the pillow on the couch in his office.”
