Martin’s shoulders sag for a moment before he squares them back in his ‘ready-to-battle’ mode. “You win your wife back.”
“How do I do that?” I throw my head back with a groan. “She hates me on a good day, and after this, I’m the last person she’ll ever speak with.”
“Maeve? Our Maeve hates you?” He raises his brows.
OurMaeve? I guess he could say that considering they’ve become as close as thieves, constantly laughing at their inside jokes I don’t get. I’ll never admit it out loud, but I’m jealous of their time together. The time she could spend with me.
I wait for him to elaborate.
“That girl loves you,” he explains with laughter.
I feel my brows being drawn together. “You think so?”
Even after herloving backcomment, I still need to hear hisencouragement. I need the whole world to tell me that she does indeed feel that way.
I don’t think anyone has ever loved me the way I’ve seen people do. Completely. Utterly. Unconditionally. Not really. Our mom does, in her own way. Noah feels something for me like a brother should, but I’m unsure how deep it runs. I feel responsibility for him. Desire to see him happy, to succeed. Is that love?
Martin rolls his eyes, seeing me descending into a mental rabbit hole. “I can’t believe I’m of the same species as you.” He grabs the chair and pushes it closer to the desk. When he’s satisfied it’s close enough for the upcoming tongue-lashing, he leans his elbows on the desk and stares at my face. “She went to who knows what lengths to get this permit. For you. You.” He points his finger at me. “And here you are, wallowing in self-pity. Get your shit together and go get your wife back.” A sudden look of disgust clouds his face, and his nose scrunches. “But maybe take a shower first. You smell.” After running his eyes down to my torso and back to my face, he adds, “and you look like shit. Maybe get some coffee. Like a gallon. Or two. Did you even sleep?”
I shake my head. “I was sitting here, trying to figure out what I was going to do.”
He watches my eyes and asks carefully, “And what did you decide?”
“That I don’t have pride anymore,” I reply with a cackle, feeling a little more encouraged.
His face stretches with a wide smile. “Who needs it when they have love? Never thought I’d see the day.”
You and me both, Martin. You and me both.
I call George three times, and he doesn’t pick up. He is my driver for fuck’s sake. Where is he?
I dial the phone for the fourth time and expect it to go to voicemail as the other three did, but his sharp voice comes through.
“Yes, Mr. King?”
“Where were you? I need you here.”
“I was with Mrs. King.”His voice is full of disapproval.“She was crying and needed a minute before she exited the vehicle. Would you prefer I kicked her out and rushed to you?”
A stab in my chest robs me of my next breath. Nothing he said could have killed me in a more painful way.
“I need a ride, George. Please.” I try to sound levelheaded even though I want to tell him off. “I need to see Mrs. King.”
“The car will be waiting downstairs.”He hangs up without even waiting for me to say anything back. Great, my driver is mad at me too.
I walk past Martin who shows me a thumbs up accompanied by an encouraging smile, which doesn’t help at all. This is one of the very few times I feelunsure.
George’s waiting for me outside the building with the open back door and a scowl on his face.
“Hello, Mr. King.” His tone suggests that I’m in the doghouse.
“Hello, George,” I reply calmly, getting into the car. Any other time, I wouldn’t let anyone talk to me like that. But his anger is warranted by his protectiveness toward Maeve. She needs people in her corner—fuck knows she’s never had anyone.
“Where to?”
“Do you know where my wife is?”
He nods.
