Page 13 of The One Who Got Away
I laughed.
“Now, answer the question, El.”
I sighed. “Dad just up and left.” I gave a bitter laugh as I turned off the oven and pulled the chicken out to rest while the rice finished cooking. “Just left with no reasons. I think that’s the worst part. If it was a younger woman or whatever--at least I could have just hated him. But he left and sent divorce papers with a law firm they used to use for everything. No note. Just a single text.”
“Fuck.”
I threw the oven mitts on the counter and picked up my wine again, draining the glass and handing it back to him.
He refilled it, then put the bottle down and touched my hand. “Hey, look at me.”
I pressed my lips together, all the words of hurt wanting to tumble free.
“Eloise.” He took my free hand and set it on his chest.
My gaze crashed into his.
“I’m sorry.”
My eyes burned as he took my glass and pulled me in. The familiar earthy scent of him wrapped around me first, then it was the arms I missed so damn much. I pressed my cheek into his chest and broke.
His hand smoothed over my hair. “It’s okay.”
For a second I believed him. The solid warmth of him and the cashmere of his sweater made me burrow closer. I looped my arms around his waist and clung to him as the tears blew out as fast as they arrived.
It was always like that for me.
“You’re the only one who’s ever seen me cry. Did you know that?” I said finally.
He rubbed his beardy cheek against my hair. “No. Surely, Maxie and Lopez got a good dose of them.”
I laughed and detangled myself from him. I brushed the tears off my cheeks. “Nope. They did most of the crying. Mostly of the rage variety.” I turned away from him, embarrassed at what had to be splotch city on my cheeks.
“Well, Lopez was ready to fight at any time.”
I huffed out a strangled laugh. “Did you hear she’s in DC these days?”
He leaned against the kitchen island, his wine back in hand. “No way. Mary Lopez?”
I pulled down plates. “Yep. She’s working for a senator, I think. I get a crazy drunk dial from her every once in a while and we catch up. She’s getting married.”
“Damn.”
“I know. I think it’s her third time.” I handed him a plate. “Help yourself.”
“Third? Jeeze.” He peeked around me with a groan. “That looks as awesome as it smells.”
I picked out a crispy caramelized onion from the corner of the sheet. “Wait until you taste it.” I waited for him to fill his plate, then took care of my own. I followed him to the little table in our sliver of a dining room.
The townhouse was a small one with very distinct zones. Kitchen and dining on the upper level and two steps down held the living room full of comfortable furniture, and a sectional couch made for napping. A sliding door led to our patio with the same pavers that had been laid when I was sixteen.
The Murdock brothers had done our backyard. I’d been fifteen and a little starstruck by the hotness of all the Murdock boys. But my eyes had been on Gus. It was the first time I’d noticed his skinny frame was filling out.
And that patio had starred in one of my first sex dreams as a teenager.
“Where’d you go?”
I swung my gaze back to him as I picked up my fork. “I was just remembering when you and your brothers demolished my backyard.”
