Chapter Thirty-Four
THIRTY-FOUR
MAVEN
In the kitchen, I find the aunties sharing tea at the big wooden table with Ezra, who jolts to his feet when I come in.
I don’t miss the look of approval the aunties give each other when he does that.
“Hi, May,” he says softly.
Looking every bit the scholar, he’s casually stylish in jeans and a tailored navy blazer, a crisp white button-up shirt beneath.
His dark-blond hair is tidy and appears as if it was recently trimmed because it was, every other week without fail at a barber’s he’s been patronizing since college.
His oxfords are worn but polished. His smile is tentative.
Behind his thin-rimmed glasses, his brown eyes beg me not to kill him.
Honestly, if murder were legal, so many people I know would be dead.
My eyes telegraphing my displeasure, I say coolly, “Hi, Ezra. This is a surprise.”
“I know. I’m sorry to show up like this, but I needed to see you.” He glances at Davina, then Esme, then clears his throat.
“We’ll leave you two alone,” says Esme, rising, but I’m quick to replace that plan with another.
“No, you two enjoy your tea. Ezra and I will take a walk in the garden.”
I don’t want him spending more time in the house than necessary. Blackthorn Manor is no place for the uninitiated.
I give him a look that means follow me or risk death by strangling. With a murmured word of thanks to the aunties, he follows me out of the kitchen and through the door into the yard.
The morning is heavy with fog. Tree branches drip with dew. The sun is a distant fuzzy disc, her light shrouded in drifts of dark clouds. All sounds seem muffled. Reminding myself to stay calm and breathe, I walk across the yard to the iron bench and chairs beneath the grove of birch trees.
Then I turn around and wait for him.
He’s only a few steps behind. When he reaches me, he stops and shoves his hands into his jeans pockets.
“I know,” he starts, looking sheepish. “You’re upset because I showed up unannounced like this.”
“It’s just so unexpected. You should have called.”
“Yes. I’m sorry. But after I heard what happened, I felt terrible. I knew you’d say no if I asked to come see you, but I thought you needed support right now.”
I have so many questions, I’m not sure where to start. “How did you get here? And how did you find the house?”
“I drove in from the city last night, then asked the woman at the inn I booked if she happened to know where May Blackthorn lived. She pointed me in the right direction.”
He chuckles nervously. “She uh, also said I shouldn’t go anywhere near this place after dark.”
My smile is tight. “Small-town people and their silly superstitions. Let’s back up a second. You already knew I came home for my grandmother’s funeral, so what do you mean you thought I needed support now?”
Surprised, he gazes at me for a beat. “Luce told us yesterday at the staff meeting.”
Unease prickles my skin and kick-starts my pulse. “Told you what?”
“Oh shit.” He sighs and closes his eyes. “She didn’t tell you.”
“Tell me what, Ezra?”
He makes a face of apology before hitting me with the ugly truth.
“You’ve been let go.”
For a split second, I don’t grasp his meaning. Then understanding slaps me across the face, making me suck in a horrified breath.
“They fired me from the museum?”
He groans. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe this is how you’re finding out. I assumed they would’ve told you first!”
My head spinning, I sit on the iron bench. It’s ice cold against my legs, almost as freezing as my body.
I can’t believe it. I’ve never had a bad performance review, never had any altercations with the staff or visitors, never set a foot out of line. My boss and I have always gotten along well, so this is totally out of left field.
Then my suspicious nature kicks in to remind me not to be so gullible.
I stare up at Ezra, my mind working at light speed. “On what grounds was I fired?”
“She didn’t specify. It was a very brief meeting. She only said you were terminated, effective immediately, and that the search for your replacement would begin next week. We were all shocked.”
“Not as much as I am,” I mutter, wondering who would have the power to get me fired for nothing. I can come up with only one name.
I sure picked a prince of a baby daddy.
I pass a hand over my damp hair, then stand, avoiding Ezra’s eyes. “I’ve got to call Luce and sort this out. Thank you for making the drive all the way here, but it was unnecessary. I’ll walk you to your car.”
I turn away but stop when Ezra chuckles. “Well, this is awkward, but your aunts invited me to stay here for the weekend.”
I freeze, clench my jaw, and silently curse. “That’s not a good idea.”
“I already said yes.”
“They’ll understand when you change your mind.”
He stares at me for a beat. “But I don’t want to.”
“Ezra—”
Stepping closer, he says quickly, “It’s only a few days, May. I drove seven hours to see you. We don’t have to talk about us, okay? We can just hang out. Have dinner. Maybe go to a movie. No pressure.”
I don’t understand why the universe is conspiring to break my spirit, but I’ve had enough of this shit. Unfortunately, I’m also sick of fighting it every step of the way.
“Look, I appreciate the effort you’re making.
It doesn’t change my mind about us, but I really do appreciate that you came all the way up here just to make sure I’m okay.
That being said, I’m not comfortable with you staying in the house.
I’m sorry, but that’s just the way I feel.
I’ve got Bea, and things are very stressful right now—”
“I totally understand,” he interrupts. “It’s not a problem at all. I’ll stay at the inn. On Sunday morning, I’ll head back to the city.”
When I don’t respond, he steps closer and drops his voice.
“I’m not expecting anything. I mean it. I just care about you, May. There’s no reason for us to be strangers just because we’re no longer dating. Let me be a friend.”
Friend. I’d laugh at that if it wasn’t so depressing.
I don’t have friends. I have secrets. I have baggage. I have emotional scars. But friends are one thing I’ve never had and still don’t because I’m a Blackthorn.
If we had a family motto, it would be “Go fuck yourself.”
But strangely, the aunties seem to have taken a shine to Ezra in all his navy-blazer-and-nerdy-hot charm. It must tip the scales in his favor because I find myself acquiescing.
“Okay. For the weekend. But as friends, right?”
His smile is relieved. Nodding, he agrees. “Just as friends. This is gonna be great.”
I think he’s vastly overestimating.
We walk back to the house in silence that is short of comfortable, but not painfully awkward. Back inside the kitchen, we sit and chat about nothing of importance with the aunts, who keep waggling their brows suggestively at me behind Ezra’s back.
I smile and pretend not to notice because how is this my fucking life?
Bea trudges downstairs just as Ezra is leaving. I watch his car drive away from the gate, then turn and pull her into a hug.
“Good morning, honey.”
“Morning.”
“You slept late.”
Yawning, she nods. She’s groggy, sleepy-eyed, and pale, her long hair in tangles. Smoothing my hands over her hair, I ask if she had sweet dreams.
“I had that dream about being a big black dog again. Only this time I was hunting.”
“Hunting for what?”
She shrugs. “I dunno. I couldn’t really see because I was in like a cave or a tunnel and it was dark. But I think it was like a lizard. Only huge.”
She doesn’t seem upset about it, so I kiss her on top of her head and lead her by the hand into the kitchen for breakfast, leaving her to her studies with Q when she’s finished.
They settle into the great room near the unlit hearth with her final lessons to be completed for school, then I go back upstairs and call my boss.
I get her voicemail, so I leave a message and call her boss.
That goes to voicemail, too. I look through my emails to see if I missed anything from either of them. When a search shows nothing, I send them an email requesting that we set up a call.
If Ronan took my gun, this is why. He knew what I’d do with it when I found out he had me fired from the museum.
His mind games are next level. Machiavelli’s got nothing on him.
The next call I make is to the dark prince himself.
“Oh, hello,” I say when he answers. “Not disturbing anything too important, am I?”
“You’re disturbing all kinds of things, in fact. Why are you mad at me now?”
So he can tell my peachy Southern sweetness is draped over a cannon.
“Who, me? I’m not mad. I’m just over here wondering what I’m going to do with all this free time now that I’ve been fired from my job, that career I schooled so long for and whose student loans I’m still paying off. I hear pickleball is pretty fun, but I worry about the integrity of my ankles.”
A few seconds pass before he says, “Fired?”
“Ugh. You sound so convincing. I wonder if your picture is in The Guinness Book of World Records under Biggest Jerk?”
“Stop being a smartass and tell me what you’re talking about.”
Ignoring that, I say, “No, Biggest Jerk is too generous. Biggest Prick?” I laugh. “Accurate on so many levels.”
“Now she’s making dick jokes,” he mutters.
“You’re lucky I’m not making holes in your body with bullets!”
“Hmm. She’s furious.”
“Yes, I’m furious, and stop talking about me in the third person. I’m not royalty and neither are you, despite what you think of yourself.”
His patience snaps. He growls, “Okay, Maven, here’s where you use all those big words you know and tell me what the fuck you’re talking about.”
We breathe at each other in hostile silence until I pull myself together. “Let me put this the polite way instead of the way I really want to say it. Did you have me fired from my job?”
He snorts. “Nooo, I’m sure that charming personality of yours did all the work for you, sweetheart.”
I pause to enjoy him calling me sweetheart, then shove that aside to get back to my rage. “It’s part of your plan, isn’t it?”