Page 81 of King of Praise

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“Fine.” I assure her, reaching for my own wine glass. “Just get overwhelmed sometimes. Being out like this.”

Lydia reaches across the table to squeeze my hand, her hazel eyes warm with understanding. “After what you’ve been through? Totally understandable.”

The compassion in her voice catches me off guard. These women know pieces of my story—the abuse, fleeing Lucas, the fear of being found—but none know the whole truth. They don’t know the truth behind Lucas’s murder.

I’m not sure how much Eve knows. But she’s Zeke’s wife, and Zeke knows everything about what happened that day in Micah’s apartment.

“So,” Lydia leans forward, eyes glittering with mischief as she tops off my wine, “are we going to talk about the mountain of a man standing guard by the front door? The one who practically frisked the waiter before letting him approach our table?”

Heat rises in my cheeks instantly. “Micah’s just protective.”

“Protective,” Olivia repeats, drawing out each syllable with gleeful emphasis. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

“Stop it,” I mutter, though I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips.

“Oh my God.” Lydia’s eyes widen. “I’m right, aren’t I? You two are together. But isn’t he…”

“My father-in-law. Yes.” The words hang in the air, challenging anyone to judge. “Ex-father-in-law, technically.”

To my surprise, Lydia just shrugs. “Well, he’s definitely got that silver fox thing going. Those shoulders. And the beard? Very sexy.”

“Lydia,” I splutter, nearly choking on my wine.

“What? I have three kids. I’m tired, not dead.” She grins, popping an olive into her mouth. “Besides, anyone who makes you smile like that gets my stamp of approval.”

Her acceptance—so casual, so genuine—makes my throat tighten.

“It’s new,” I admit, “but good. Really good.”

“He’s a good man,” Eve adds, her contribution carrying particular weight. “Complicated, sure, but good where it counts.”

“And in bed?” Olivia arches one perfectly manicured eyebrow.

“Olivia,” Eve and Lydia scold in unison.

I hide my burning face behind my wine glass but can’t suppress the smile that spreads across my lips. “No complaints.”

Olivia crows with delight and Lydia fans herself dramatically.

“I knew it,” Olivia declares triumphantly. “Those big, quiet ones are always the best.”

The atmosphere in the private dining room shifts as Lydia leans forward, her petite frame casting a delicate shadowacross the white tablecloth. A faint smile plays at her lips, but uncertainty lingers in her hazel-green eyes.

“I feel like such an outsider sometimes,” she admits, fingers tracing the stem of her wine glass. “My life is so normal. Plain, really. The scariest thing I deal with is Nora’s dance recital drama or Harper forgetting her lunch.” She glances between Eve, Olivia, and me. “But you all live in this whole other world. With dangerous, powerful men and secrets I probably don’t want to know about.”

The vulnerability in her voice makes my heart ache. Sweet Lydia, who survived her own battles but emerged with her kindness intact. Who bakes cookies for her daughters’ classes and volunteers at their school and somehow manages to run a successful boutique as a single mom.

“How do you handle it?” she asks, her gaze settling on each of us in turn. “The constant danger, the violence that’s always lurking beneath the surface? The knowledge that the men you’re with operate in a world most people pretend doesn’t exist?”

I take a slow sip of wine, letting the rich Cabernet coat my tongue as I consider her question. “It’s—” I begin, searching for words that won’t frighten her further.

“It’s like learning a new language,” Olivia takes over for me, reaching to squeeze Lydia’s hand. “At first, everything seems foreign and scary. But gradually, you start to understand the rhythms, the unspoken rules. You learn when to ask questions and when to look the other way.”

“You make it sound so elegant.” I laugh softly at Olivia’s description, though there’s truth in her words. The careful dance of knowing when to push and when to yield, when to question and when to trust. “Like we’re all taking lessons in some exclusive finishing school instead of—”

“Instead of being in love with men who occasionally have to handle things in less than legal ways?” Eve cuts in, raisingher glass with a faint smile that holds equal parts amusement and understanding. Her green eyes sparkle in the restaurant’s soft lighting as she continues. “Danger aside, these powerful men would do anything to keep us safe.” She pauses, taking a deliberate sip of wine before adding with a wicked grin, “And it helps that the sex is phenomenal.”

I nearly choke on my wine as unbidden images of Micah flash through my mind—his large hands gripping my hips, his beard rough against my inner thighs, the way he fills me so completely I forget where I end and he begins.