Chapter Twenty-Five
A month later, on a hot June Saturday morning, I walked into Bianca like I owned the place. I didn’t, obviously, but dating the owner had its perks. Bianca and Lilou, even Sarita and Quince, were all completely familiar to me. I still didn’t always know what I was eating at them, but they were the places I spent the most time these days.
This morning, I had some finishing touches to make on the wall mural. It was finally finished.
Nobody greeted me as I slipped quietly into the restaurant and headed straight for the transformative piece that had taken me so long to accomplish.
Smoke danced from one side of the wall to the next—wispy, and dark, and emotive. I was proud of the way I’d shaded all of the different tendrils, giving it depth, making it come alive with hidden meaning. On the left, a pair of female eyes sat half-hidden under the cloak of gray and black. Cold and calculating, sad with unspoken grief. They were clearly feminine, but they were also mostly faded, barely visible in the rest of the scene.
In another two feet were another pair of eyes—they were hungry, desperate to fit in and be seen. In another couple feet a third pair, and then another pair after that. Each telling a tragic story that evoked sorrow and longing, leaving you with the feeling of something missing as real pieces of them had been left unpainted. Two more pairs of eyes could be seen on the far right, closer together than any of the others. Finally, there was hope. Finally, completion. They were brighter than the rest, meant to be there and connected by some unseen force. And all around the smoke swirled and billowed, becoming the most entrancing part of the mural.
Ezra had been a bit shocked to see that I’d painted his dating history on the wall of his restaurant. And embarrassed. But I assured him that only he knew the secrets of the painting, to everyone else it was only art.
In the end, he’d admitted that he couldn’t stop looking at it. The mural had done exactly what he wanted it to do, which was fill the awkward space of his restaurant and give it a memorable quality.
And not only that, but I was finally happy with how his eyes had turned out, finally pleased with how I’d painted him.
They were deep and mysterious, but warm too, and kind. The eyebrows were exactly right and the lashes were thick and defining. They were eyes that you could fall in love with if you stared at them too often.
Eyes I did fall in love with.
I prepared my paints and readied my brush to add a few brushstrokes here and there. Ezra walked out from the kitchen, murmuring about asshole chefs.
“Any luck?” I asked him, already knowing what was on his mind.
“He’s a fucking narcissist. He’ll take the job as long as his film crew can come in and restructure the entire building for when they need to tape. Fucking reality shows,” he growled. He held his thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “I’m this close to putting out a Craigslist ad.”
I tried not to laugh or even smile. But his indignation was adorable. “Patience, babe. You’ll find the right fit soon.”
His attention turned to the mural. “It’s stunning, Molly. Every time I walk out here, I‘m blown away all over again. Hiring you was such a good decision on my part.”
Of course he would take all the credit. “You’re so smart,” I deadpanned. “You’re such a genius.”
He flashed me a devilish grin. “Thank you.”
Wrapping his arm around my shoulder, he pulled me against his chest. We stayed like that for a long moment, hugging, holding onto each other… holding each other.
We’d been nearly
inseparable for the last month. It had been the most beautiful, blissful
challenge of my life. He was a difficult man and it turned out I was obviously
a kind of a difficult female. But we needed each other. Our push and pull
was what made me keep falling for him more and more and more. Because
apparently there was no end to how deep my feelings for this man could go.
The morning after I’d slept over at his apartment, he’d marched me into SixTwentySix and raised hell like he promised. I didn’t need him to fight my battles for me, but dang was it nice to have him on my side.
His lawyer had joined us.
We went straight to the Mother Tucker’s office and let him have it. It turned out Henry Junior had done exactly what I’d expected him to. He’d run to Daddy and they’d decided to fire me. Not deal with Junior’s sexual deviance in any way. But fire me.
So, I quit.
And even though Henry had subsequently been put on probation and sent away for training and rehabilitation in sexual misconduct, Brent was still gathering a case. It included my testimony of course. And Catherine Dawes, who had come forward after I made such a scene and stormed out of the building with my dignity intact. There were three other women from the office who were also contributing to the case. They had been shut down by HR and Mr. Tucker just like I had.
I didn’t know what would happen to STS because of the suit. But I had trouble caring. I was sad of course that so many people might be out of a job, but if they were smart, they would jump ship before worse came to worst.
Like Emily. Who had left STS the same day I did. We’d decided to open up a social media strategy consulting firm together. Thankfully, we knew some wealthy investors who were very interested in our services.
Obviously, Ezra. But Killian and Vera also wanted in. They were dying for our help as they got closer to the opening of Salt. Plus, Vann wanted to hire us as well. For being only a couple of weeks old, our client list was bomb.
Our friends were also extremely happy for us. After I officially quit STS, we’d met Vera and Killian for lunch. Our first double date. And it had been everything.
Vera was the biggest cheerleader for our relationship, although I still blamed her pending marital bliss for her over-the-top reaction.
But nobody had been as thrilled for us as Wyatt. Which might have sounded nice of him, but his felicitations were totally selfishly motivated. Apparently, Ezra in a committed relationship was a much easier man to work for.
I liked to take all of the credit for that. You’re welcome, chefs of Durham.
“Jo wants us to come over for dinner tonight,” Ezra said into my hair. “She says she wants to see this for herself.”
“See what for herself?” I asked on a laugh. I had met Jo a couple times through Vera before, but not in this context with Ezra.
“You and me,” he explained. “She doesn’t believe me.”
“My parents want to have us over tomorrow night,” I countered. “They’re having trouble believing this is real too.”
Ezra pulled back, his hands holding my body like I was the most precious thing in the world and I could float away at any second. I loved the way he held me… held onto me. “What don’t they believe?”
“That you’re real. My mom, especially. She definitely thought I was going to marry a homeless man.”
“I like your mom,” he said on a smile. “She’s terrifying.”
He had to be lying. Nobody liked my mom. Not even Vera. Of course, Ezra would be the one person on the planet to appreciate her scariness. “She likes you for the same reason.”
Leaning forward, he murmured, “I like your dad too. And I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m awesome.”
“He doesn’t.” He totally did.
He smiled down at me. “I better win him over with his favorite six-pack then.”
“That would definitely help your case,” I told him. “What doesn’t Jo believe?”
“That I’m in love,” he answered easily like it wasn’t the most profound thing he’d ever said. “She doesn’t think I’m capable.”
My heart hammered against my chest and my fingers went numb. Did he not realize he had never said that before?! That this was the first time ever I was hearing that crazy, beautiful, soul-changing admission. “I’m sorry, wh-what?” I gasped.
“She doesn’t believe that I fell in love.”
I blinked at him, vaguely aware that my mouth was unhinged. “Ezra,” I pleaded.
“Oh, have I not told you that before?” His grin was wide, and cocky, and achingly real. “I’ve been thinking it for a while. It’s hard to believe I haven’t said it. Are you sure I haven’t?”
“Don’t torture me,” I pleaded.
His expression softened and his hands began the slow, steady caress of a man that felt every ounce of truth in his words. “I love you, Molly Maverick.” His lips dropped to mine, kissing as if sealing his confession in me. “I love you.”
Unbidden tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. “I love you too, Ezra Felix Baptiste.”
He let out an impatient sigh. “I keep telling you not to use my whole name.”
I smiled, because I knew it drove him bananas. “I like it. No, wait. I love it.”
His head cocked back. “Are you making fun of me for telling you I love you.”
“No, I wouldn’t do that.” I tried to keep a straight face. “That doesn’t sound like me at all.”
“Unbelievable,” he groaned. “You’re completely unbelievable.”
“But you love me anyway. I know because you just told me.”
He didn’t know whether to glare or laugh, so instead of either, he threw me over his shoulder and stomped back to his office. I laughed hysterically when he smacked my butt.
“Ezra Felix!” I shouted since we were the only ones in the restaurant.
“I’m going to make you pay for that, woman,” he threatened.
And he did. In his office, with the door locked. With laughter that never left us and whispered I love yous that we absolutely meant. With kisses that I could never get enough of, and promises of a future together that would never get boring, never lose our push and pull, and never, ever end.
It didn’t matter how different we were or how different we would always be, Ezra was now the driving force in my life that made everything else make sense. He was my anchor when I felt like I was lost and floating away. He was my common sense and reason, and also my relentless drive. And I was his reality check when work became his life and he forgot about everything else. I was the fun and meaningful purpose for why he strove so hard.
Yes, we were different, but only in the way two puzzle pieces are made to fit together exactly right. He was made for me and I was made for him. And we would spend the rest of our lives discovering all the ways we blended together.
Thinking back to when I met Ezra, I couldn’t believe how wrong I’d gotten him. I’d expected arrogance and snobbery and aloof cruelty. Intsead, I’d found a man that was humble and devoted and so full of love I knew I would never get to the end of him. He swept me off my feet and changed my life forever. He’d closed the space between us and showed me just how perfect love can be.
Our story was a complex piece of art that we worked on every day. It wasn’t always beautiful in the traditional sense, but it was captivating, and worthy and endless.
Our happily ever after was so different than what I’d pictured, but it was right. And it was ours.