Page 38 of Tarek

“Moral Absolutism is a thought that universal moral principles/laws apply to everyone, regardless of the situation.”

I ponder on his words. “I guess I believe in moral absolutism.”

He chuckles. “Do you? Bandits break into your home. They kill your husband, and they ask you where are the children? Are you going to lie and protect your kids? Or tell the truth? Because lying is morally wrong.”

My eyebrows raise. “I would lie, to protect my kids.”

“As expected. Someone who believes in absolutism, will tell the truth. See its inflexible. Black and White. No room for error.”

I lick my lips as I ponder on what he is saying “Where does that place you?”

He scratches his chin and thinks. “I would consider myself morally ambiguous. There are no clearly defined lines of good and bad for me.”

“So, you do wrong things for the right reasons?” I ask.

He leans off the wall and pushes his chair in. “And right things for the wrong reasons.”

I shouldn’t find these qualities attractive. He is more than a sexy chef, seeing his grey moral areas, should frighten me not excite me. Instead of running I am fascinated. Lord I need therapy.

“Do we have a deal, Penelope?”

“Three and we have a deal.”

He stretches over the table to shake my hand. His grip is as expected firm and strong.

“You’re hired let’s go. We will take my car,” he states, still holding my hand.

I pull my hand away. “No thank you, I will drive mine.”

“Do you know where we are going?” he asks.

“Nope, but I can follow.” I smile up at him, his forehead furrowed.

“You need to come with me, because you will need me to get in the club.”

I chuckle, shaking my head as I stop to thank Marco for saving my life.

Tarek comes to my side. “Did you hear what I said.”

I turn and smile up at him. “Mr. Fairisles, you’re forgetting something very important.”

“And what is that?”

“That you need me, and not the other way around. Now, let’s go collect my car and we can make our way to your little club.” His jaw ticks when I say his little club. I don’t bother to wait.

ChapterFour

Miranda

It’s a beautiful day for a wedding. The skies are blue, the April spring air is crispy and new. The sun shines its divine light on the church of St. Bartholomew.

The large ancient oak doors of the church open as family and friends trickle out, all with beaming faces, happy, full of joy.

The engine of the car vibrates under me, it comes to an end as my mom switches off the car. The sunlight filters through the canopy of the tree above us. It creates quiet sanctuary for a person to relax or in my case observe. My mom brought me here for me to see that I had no future in Lakeshore. To remind me that I need to make a life for my child and myself. To break the cycle as she puts it.

The small crowd begin to cheer, in the distance. With bated breath, I watch the slow reveal of the bride and the groom as they walk down the end of the isles through the door.

Pink rose petals float in the air around them, the bride’s face is the definition of joy. The groom’s smile is wide and white.

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