“And he doesn’t want to share him,” Noah adds grouchily.
“Because I found him first,” I deadpan, annoyed with the same conversation we’ve been having for a long time. “Find your own.”
“I have assistants, they just don’t last,” my brother complains like he usually does.
“That’s because you run them into the ground.” I think for a moment and add, “Or fuck them.”
“I do not.”
“Do too. How many have you had in the past year?”
Noah purses his lips tight because he has nothing to say. He runs through them faster than I did before I found Martin. One might say my brother is even more demanding. Which is saying something.
Dropping this never-ending discussion, I look at Maeve. “Let’s go. We need to get ready.”
With a short nod, she heads toward our suites. I’m about to follow her when Noah’s hand lands on my shoulder. I glance at him with a questioning look.
“You’d better make it real,” he says seriously. “I think this is it,” he adds vaguely and goes in the opposite direction. I guess I’ll see him in New York.
34
Maeve
I’m staring at a giant ring on my finger that was supposed to belong to my sister. When did he buy it? Before he came here or after? Was it meant for her or for me?
I feel like I’m taking the leftovers, and it leaves a bad aftertaste.
My sister. She was supposed to be here, in my place. I wonder where she’s going and how she’ll do on her own. I think she will manage—she’s always had this secret internal strength she was scared to show. I hope she’ll be fine. I think she will, especially after seeing her backbone probably for the first time ever.
I haven’t really felt like I’ve had a sister or family for quite some time, but when I saw her, I was quickly reminded of how it feels. Watching Bea stand up for me made me realize that I’ve always had her despite what we both have gone through.
I was eighteen when I left. I didn’t have any skills, so I moved from job to job, getting fired on a regular basis due to literal lack of working capability. I was sleeping in the cheapest motels I could find because I was running out of money. I’d like to say I managed it in the end, but that’d be a lie. I had to borrow money from a homeless guy for fuck’s sake. How will my sister, who’s lived under our parents’ thumb much longer, survive on her own?
I’m staring outside the moving car, refusing to acknowledge Ezra. Because if I do, I’ll probably end up on his lap, crying into his neck. And then licking it. Definitely licking. It’s very delicious, I remember.
He hasn’t said a word to me since we left the hotel thirty minutes ago. There’s no animosity in the air from him, just the aura of ignoring poor me. It’s like he’s reverted to his old self, the one from New York. I could easily slip into a dark place of my own mind because of that, but I’ve come to learn that Ezra’s behavior is erratic, which makes it hard to predict which version of him I’ll meet. So I either have to be okay or go mad. I’m unsure why he’s this way, but if I had to bet, I’d say it’s because he himself doesn’t know how to treat this new situation between us. It throws him off balance, and for a person who thrives on having control over every aspect of his life, it might be challenging. Giving him some time to adjust will probably pay off in this long-term scheme we are in.
I’m in pink shorts and an oversized white T-shirt at least three sizes too big that I bought for myself in the hotel gift shop, and he’s in a suit. Again with the suit in this fucking heat. If this doesn’t tell me that he’s back to being the man who rudely demanded coffee at our first meeting, I don’t know what does.
The car comes to a stop, and the driver jumps out to open the door for me. I can manage by myself just fine, but it’s hisjob. So I smile politely and go to get my bag with the shit I’ll never use—the things I borrowed from Bea. The things she bought forherhoneymoon.
Ezra reaches the trunk before me. He’s pulling his suitcase out, and I lean to take my bag. He grabs it before I can reach it, growling, “No wife of mine will be hauling her own bags.”
“I’m not a real wife,” I hiss back. I don’t know why I’m suddenly edgy, but all of it has started feeling too real, and I’m forgetting that the marriage is arranged.
“We’re in public. In public, you are.” His hard eyes warn me to drop it.
I want to fight him for the handle of my damn suitcase, and he feels it because his nostrils flare as his eyes focus on my thinned lips. I hate that his stare makes me swallow. I hate the chokehold his presence has on my body’s chemistry.
With a deep inhale, I straighten my back and follow him to the boat. A larger one this time. I must admit that I’m having some issues with boats now. This one is new and very shiny, and the crew size is larger, but I can’t make myself step foot off the wooden pier. I physically can’t make my legs move.
I feel blood draining from my hands from my grip on the rails.
“Miss?” the smiling crew member calls from the boat. “Do you need some help?” He stretches his arm toward me, offering me to take it. But I’m paralyzed with fear and can’t move. “Miss?”
“I’m here.” His soft voice is next to my ear. Then, big arms come around my waist and back, and I’m being carried through the small, mobile bridge onto the boat. “Grab the luggage, please,” Ezra says to someone while moving with me toward the back of the boat.
My fingers dig deep into his shoulders. My breaths areragged and uneven. I’ve never had a panic attack, but I think this is it. I’ve also never feared boats or water so much, but that was before I’d almost drowned.
