Chapter 52
52
E zra
I sit at my desk and look at the paper in my hands like it’s a snake coiled for a bite. The permit to reopen the building signed by Boris Lebovski. Something I’ve all but given up on getting.
I stare and stare at it.
By the time I’m ready to take a first full breath in, I don’t feel anything other than anger toward myself. Why didn’t I just ask her about Jeff instead of deciding to be an asshole? Am I turning into my father whose own truth was the only one? He’s never listened to anyone, never asked the other part of the story. Never. And I’ve always been a victim of this. Why did I do the same to Maeve?
Noah has always been gentler, more sensitive. Not me. I wasn’t raised to be that way. I was raised to be a soulless leader despite what it might cost. And it’s about to cost me the wife I’ve come to love .
Maybe I’ve loved her for a long time. Maybe it happened the exact moment she narrowed her big, blue eyes at me from behind that counter. Her challenge and defiance. Her strength. Her beautiful face and bite-my-ass attitude. Her hair I’d pay for her to keep forever because it suits her personality so well. Even the damn ring in her brow. I love all of it.
She told me that I couldn’t love her back. Back. Which means that she does. How deep does her love for me run? Will she be able to forgive me for questioning her loyalty? I don’t think I would.
I cover my face with my hands with a loud groan when I hear the door opening quietly. Instantly dropping my hands, I stare at the door, hoping that she’s come back. That she figured out how stupid I really am and decided to give me another chance.
But it’s not her.
Martin pokes his head inside, and my heart drops to the pit of my stomach once again. “Is it safe to come in?”
After my short nod, he carefully walks in and toward my desk.
“Are you okay?”
My first instinct is to lash out at him. To blame him for everything because he’s here, and it’s convenient. If I don’t let it out, I’ll explode.
But I don’t. Because this is the first time I want to face myself as me. As people see me. The hard, unfeeling man. The asshole the world knows. Not Maeve, no. She saw the other one, the one who I thought had died a long time ago. A normal man with normal desires and dreams.
Maybe Martin sees a little bit of that too—after all, he’s stuck around me no matter how many times I bark. Yes, I pay him handsomely, but a person with his skills would be hired before he even exited this building .
“I am not,” I finally reply quietly. He’s been in my house, seen Maeve and I being a family for a short time. He’s the person I can talk to instead of cooping up silently with my misery alone. “I think I’ve really fucked up this time.”
His face turns sad and he takes a seat in a chair across from me. “What happened?”
I take a deep breath and tell him the story named How to Lose Your New Wife in a Month . By the time I’m done with the story, I worry he’s chewed his bottom lip into nothing and wiped a hole in his chin with his hand from rubbing it too much.
“Yeah, you’ve done pretty badly this time. Maeve is not the type to creep around like that.”
I don’t know what I wanted to hear. Maybe a few words of encouragement. But Martin’s boldness is one of the things I appreciate the most about him.
After searching his face for answers that I don’t find, I decide to do one thing I never do—ask for help.
“How do I fix it?”
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.
Our Maeve? 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 her loving back comment, I still need to hear his encouragement. 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 feel unsure .
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.
“Then I need to go there. Please.” I add the last word meaningfully, silently apologizing to my driver for something I did to my wife. Apparently, my wife has been adopted by every single person in my life, so I have to go through them to get to her.
Another silent nod as he starts the car.
But as we drive, I notice that we’re not headed toward home—we’re going the opposite direction. After a quick glance in the rearview mirror, I decide to refrain from questioning because George looks very determined. I don’t know where my wife would go since she doesn’t have anyone else in the city. Well, besides Jeff. Maybe we’re headed his way. Curiosity about him is second in a queue of things eating me alive.
I lean back and wait, thinking of what I’ll say to her. How I’ll look at her. How I can make sure she understands how sincere I am in what I have to say.
When we stop next to a bus station with a few people leaning on its walls and a homeless guy sitting on the bench, I send George a quizzical look through the mirror. Maeve is nowhere to be seen—so what are we doing here?
He turns around, nodding at the stop.
“I want you to meet Jeff. The man partially responsible for ensuring you have your building back.”
I swallow, glancing between him and the station.
“The homeless man?”
George nods. “He’ll tell you the whole story. But, Ezra,” this is the first time George uses my first name and this tone from his previous job, “I saw her storming in the city building and taking no prisoners when she went after the permit. She was there for you even though she was terrified. I could tell.” A slight shake of his head. “She wanted to give you a surprise and keep your name out of it. She even introduced herself to that Lebovski bastard as Wrong.” This time his eyes find mine and hold them. “You know what I did in my old life, and I’ve seen people do real bad things. Maeve is not one of them. She’s good to her core.” He smacks his fist to his chest. “But she turned to the bad side, so you didn’t have to.”
With that, he looks away, dismissing me.
She turned to the ‘bad’ side, so I didn’t have to. He couldn’t have said anything else that would gut me deeper. I don’t want Maeve to be introduced to anything bad. I don’t want her around anything dark and illegal, anything that can taint her beautiful soul and mind. I want her to be the way she is.
And how did I return the favor? Accused her of something she’s not even capable of. Even though deep down I’ve known it the whole time. But it was getting too real. Too raw. Too fast. I’m not sure what I expected when I offered her a marriage deal, but falling in love with her was not it.
I didn’t know how to deal with that deep, heavy feeling in my chest, so I pushed her away the only way I knew how. By clinging to the first flaw like a coward.
I’ve got a lot of work to do.
Pushing the door open, I head to the bus stop. The bench next to Jeff is free—people are actively avoiding him. Seeming to be in his early sixties, he has a lot of graying facial hair, a brown beanie, and black jacket. A cart filled with different stuff is parked next to him.
I stride directly to him and plant my ass on the empty spot next to him, making people around stare at me with wide eyes. Jeff slowly turns to me with a raised brow.
“Jeff, I presume?” I ask off the bat.
He nods.
“Ezra King,” I introduce myself and offer him my hand for a shake.
He looks down at my hand and then back at my face. I keep my hand in the air, and he eventually takes it. Looking at his eyes while shaking it, I get déjà vu. I’ve seen this man somewhere.
“Jeff Bernard.”
The handshaking pauses because I’m gobsmacked. “ The Jeff Bernard?”
“I don’t know about ‘the,’ but yes, that’s my name.”
My eyes run over his figure before returning to his face. “How—” I clear my throat. “What happened?”
He narrows his eyes, clearly contemplating if he should say something or not. “Your father happened,” he sighs.
“My father?”
“Yes. He blacklisted me from the paying playing jobs.”
I lean back on the wall behind the bench, confused. This is not what I expected to find here. When George drove me here, I thought he was delivering me directly to Maeve’s door. Instead, I’m with a man I’ve been wondering about for years. My theory about my father going after him turned out to be the truth, unfortunately.
“Was it after that dinner?”
A short nod.
“I’m sorry, Jeff.” I throw my head back at the wall behind me. “I’m sorry he did this to you.”
Waving his hand in the air, he says, “It is what it is. I regret nothing, boy.”
Suddenly not able to breathe, I try swallowing a giant lump in my throat. Jeff was the first person who stood up for me. Besides my mom, but she stopped voicing her opinion when I turned ten. So neither Noah nor I really had any family members ready to protect two kids from their abusive father, scared of his wrath. We were on our own. Until this guy stopped my father’s hand. Quite literally. And apparently paid a big price for that.
“I am still sorry, Jeff. I truly am.” I stare ahead, feeling shameful that my cowardice cost a decent life to a good man. Right here and right now, I vow to myself that I’ll make it up to him. Any way I can.
“Water under the bridge, boy.” He smacks my shoulder. “I see you’ve done good for yourself.”
My chuckle is dark. “I don’t know about that.”
“What do you mean? You’ve got yourself a nice job and a nice wife.”
I turn toward him so fast I give myself whiplash.
“Maeve stopped by.” He snorts. “Who do you think got the dirt on that Lebovski pervert?”
“You got the photos for Maeve?”
A nod. “Right from that building.” He points at a brick building around the corner on the left. “He visited this itty-bity club in the basement. Did you blackmail the bastard?”
“Maeve did.” My voice drops to nearly a whisper.
“Oh-oh, what did you do?”
Taking a deep breath, I tell him about how badly I messed up.
“Do you love her?” he asks after mulling over my story for a few minutes.
“Yes.” My answer is immediate and firm. I love Maeve. I’ve loved her from the moment she scowled at me from behind the counter. And I fell in love even deeper when she splashed hot coffee on my dick to teach me some manners. I think I was neck deep after that.
“Then show it to her.” He shrugs his shoulder. “That girl didn’t know any love growing up with those folks of hers. And you just showed her that she’s still unlovable if you think she’s done something not up to your expectations. Go and prove her wrong.” He laughs under his breath. “Wrong, huh.”
He’s right. Not that Maeve is unlovable, but that she thinks this way. I think this way too. Maybe this is where my insecurity about being cheated on comes from. Being raised by a dismissive father and a mother too afraid to speak up while trying to prove to them that I deserve a place in the family is not the best way to grow up mentally healthy. My mom is not bad; she just doesn’t have a backbone. Looking at Maeve’s mother, I wonder which one is worse. Being constantly berated for the way she looks, moves, or talks breaks a child’s psyche just as much if not more.
Another wave of rage toward her parents burns hot in my chest, making me slowly release a measured breath to calm myself down.
I will show Maeve that she is the most lovable and deserving person in the world and that she doesn’t have to prove anything to me. I just need to figure out how.