Chapter Eleven #2
This is our fourth night together, but I’ve not seen her check her phone once during those times, so I wondered if she told him something or if he doesn’t reach out for hours at a time.
“No.” She pauses, but I don’t miss the quiet sigh she releases. “Truthfully, we haven’t talked much since I’ve been here. He’s on a tight deadline for work.”
“Oh.” I lick my lips, contemplating my next words. “You said he’s in publishin’? What does he do?”
She stiffens a bit, and I worry I’ve hit a sore topic. “He’s a writer, actually.”
“An author?” I confirm.
“Yeah.”
“Are you his agent?” I ask, but it comes out more accusing than curious.
“No, he was agented long before I became one.”
“How’d you meet?” She didn’t exactly tell me last time, but I’m too curious not to ask.
“I was at a book event and he was there. His agent is a mutual friend of ours and she introduced us. Things were casual between us for a long time,” she says as if she needs me to know they didn’t rush.
“I was still uncertain about datin’ again and he respected that.
It was a slow progress of gettin’ to know each other, and little by little, my heart opened up a bit more until I was ready to accept that I had to move on.
We didn’t put a label on us until he met my parents a year into datin’ and they adored him. ”
Of-fucking-course.
“How long after did he propose?”
“Another year. I wasn’t in a rush, but as soon as my mother heard the news, she was already callin’ the best venues in the area.”
Wait a minute…
“You’re gettin’ married here ?”
“Thirty minutes away, but yeah. Mama wanted a Southern weddin’ and Hayes said it was fine.”
“And what do you want?”
Her shoulders lift slightly, but she looks defeated.
“I loved our wedding day. I hope you know that. But it wasn’t me.
It wasn’t us . I would’ve been happy with a romantic and intimate ceremony, some dancin’, and good food.
When I brought up the Willow Chalet as a possible venue idea, my dad scoffed and said it wasn’t to their level, but that’s what I would’ve wanted. ”
“Why didn’t you ever say anythin’?”
“I didn’t wanna fight with ’em, especially since I’m their only daughter and it seemed important to ’em. Plus, I was up at school and they were here makin’ all the plans, so it was easier not to argue. At the end of the day, I wanted us to get married, so I went along with it.”
“Fuck, Maze. The only reason I went with it is because I thought it’s what you wanted.”
“Well…Mama doesn’t seem to care what I want, so she and the event coordinator have been doing most of the plannin’. Again .”
“Not that I’m wantin’ you to get married to another man—just makin’ that clear—but why don’t you stand up to her? You don’t need their approval anymore. Does Hayes even want that?”
She scrunches up her face as if to say she doesn’t know. “I think he’d be fine goin’ to the courthouse and elopin’. He doesn’t like a lot of fuss.”
“So you’re both goin’ along with whatever makes your parents happy instead of what makes y’all happy? That makes a whole lot of no sense.”
“Yes, I know.” She groans. “Why do you think I was so eager to get outta here? She’s controllin’ and judgmental. I give her an inch, she takes a whole damn football field.”
I knew they were hard on her growing up, but I hadn’t realized how bad it still was as an adult.
When they wanted to buy us a new house, and we said no, I think they knew I was the reason she was gaining a backbone.
Seems like Hayes doesn’t know her all that well if he can’t see when she needs someone to support her in standing up for herself.
“Well…if you ever need someone to intervene, let me know. She already hates me. Pissin’ her off wouldn’t make me lose a lick of sleep,” I say, pulling into the parking lot and finding a spot.
She chuckles but quickly covers her mouth as if she’s surprised herself.
“Thanks, I’ll remember that.”
I shoot her a wink, then jump out of my truck and usher her out of the passenger side .
The moment we enter, my stomach growls at how good it smells.
“Wow…this is so different,” she whispers, leaning closer to my ear.
“It went under a remodel a few years ago. Aunt JoJo went a little overboard.”
The dim lighting makes it hard to see deeper into the restaurant, but it’s a large cabin-style building with a wraparound deck for outside seating.
There’s a brick fireplace that adds to the mood, candles on every table, and decorative cloths.
The servers dress up in three-piece suits and all the guests are required to be in formal wear.
“Mr. and Mrs. Langston,” the hostess’s eyes light up as if she didn’t know we were arriving but clearly does. “Welcome! Your table is ready.”
Resting my hand above her ass, I guide her to follow while the hostess leads us to a back area that’s secluded from the rest of the guests.
I pull out a chair and motion for Maisie to sit, then help push her in before taking the seat across from her. It’s hard to pull my eyes away from her, especially when I catch her looking at me too.
Once we’re settled, the hostess hands us our menus and tells us the specials. “Your server will be here shortly. Enjoy.”
“Thank you,” we both mutter.
“Wow…” Maisie scans the room in amazement at what I can only assume was Aunt JoJo’s doing.
Fairy lights hang from the ceiling, an ice bucket with a bottle of red wine is on one side of the table, and candles spread around a vase of purple roses.
“Hello, hi!” Yani enters, greeting us with a warm smile .
She’s worked here for the past five years and is one of their best servers, so I’m not surprised Aunt JoJo gave her our table.
I smile in return and ask how she is.
“Have y’all had the chance to look through your menus or have any questions about the specials?” she asks, pulling out a corkscrew, then takes the Cabernet Sauvignon out of the ice.
“I think we’re still lookin’,” I tell her since Maisie hasn’t opened her menu.
“No problem,” she singsongs, popping the cork and pouring it into our glasses. “I’ll be back with your bread.”
She returns a few minutes later with a basket of hot rolls and butter.
“You look extra muscular in this, by the way.” Yani squeezes my bicep.
I chuckle. “Thank you.”
Her gaze shifts to Maisie and slowly lowers down her dress before swallowing hard.
“Are y’all ready to order?”
We both get the lamb chop special and extra waters.
“Great choice.” Yani winks. “JoJo’s recipe is the best I’ve ever had, and I rarely eat meat, so that should tell ya how good it is.”
“I can’t wait to try it,” I say, grinning at Maisie, whose jaw looks ready to snap in half.
“Be right back with your soup and salads.”
After she leaves, I unfold my napkin and place it in my lap. I organize my silverware so I have room to rest my arms on the table.
“Stop lookin’ so jealous. I’m not her type.”
Maisie’s gaze snaps to mine, her brows furrowed with guilt at getting caught.
“I wasn’t. And how do you know? ”
Trying hard not to smirk, I bite my lower lip. “I’m not the one she was eye-fuckin’.”
It takes her a second, but then she realizes. “Oh.” Her eyes shift to where Yani exited. “Really?”
“I mean, can you blame her? You look sexy as hell.”
That embarrassed blush reappears, and I can’t help wondering what else on her body I can make red.
We drink our wine and make small talk during our appetizers. Maisie tells me she’s been rereading her old books, and I beam at that.
“What’s your favorite book?” I ask once our dinner is served.
As expected, the lamb chop is cooked to perfection.
“Whaddya mean?”
“What I just said…”
“Like my favorite book currently? In a specific genre? Or trope?”
I chuckle at her little panicked voice. “Like…your favorite book of all time. The one you think about regularly or one you could reread for the rest of your life and never get tired of. The top-tier book of all books.”
“You know it’s criminal to ask a book lover her favorite book. I have several.”
“Nope, you can only pick one.”
“That’s cruel.”
“You gotta do it,” I tease.
“Fine.” She dabs her mouth with her napkin, then takes a drink of her water. “It’s a book that got me into readin’ in the first place. I wouldn’t say it’s good in terms of literary prose, but it made me happy every time I read it. And it’s always stuck with me. Even now. ”
“Okay…” I’m intrigued. “What’s the title?”
“Dr. Seuss’s Green Eggs and Ham .”
My fork hits the plate and she grins.
“I was five, don’t judge me.”
“I’m tryin’ not to…” I mock.
“I was so obsessed, I asked Jerald, our chef at the time, to make me green eggs. Of course my mother said absolutely not, but I refused to eat regular eggs. Finally, one day, Jerry surprised me with a plate of ’em.
I was so happy and scarfed ’em down. But whatever he put in ’em to make ’em green made me sick.
I threw up for hours and never asked for green eggs ever again. ”
I nearly choke on my food from laughing. “I can’t believe I never knew this about you.”
“It’s my first tragic story.”
“You poor thing. Now tell me your favorite adult book.”
“Oh, now you’re specific.”
I continue eating as she gushes about a book I’ve never heard of, which doesn’t mean much since I’m out of the loop on most things.
She explains how it’s a love story between a couple who would’ve never met if fate hadn’t brought them together at just the right time.
They don’t like each other at first, but because they’re forced to live in the same house for a few weeks, their walls eventually come down and they become friends. Except, she’s keeping a secret.