Laughing, I crossed my arms over my chest. “Just be yourself.”
“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of. What if he gets mad the pie is gone, decides to blame the gay one, and throws me upstairs in your darkroom.”
I rolled my eyes. “And what do you call a really annoying gay man?”
Jake’s shoulders slumped, and his eyes narrowed. “What?”
“A pain in the ass.”
Summer giggled from the couch.
“And, Mia,” Jake pointed at me, “when the comedian pumped his sense of humor inside you, did you laugh?”
“Okay, touché. But we got a baby in the room …”
“What’s Thanksgiving without a little banter, yeah?” Summer asked, standing and laying Turner down in the pop-up playpen beside the couch. “Should I grab the boys?”
My gaze scanned over the table where a complete Thanksgiving meal laid out. Turkey, gravy, stuffing, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, and cranberries sitting over a festive tablecloth, candles lit, and drinks poured. “Yup, we’re ready for them.”
Jake walked around the table and threw his arm around my shoulder. “You did well.”
“Wait until you try it before you say that,” I said through a laugh, hoping it tasted as delicious as it appeared.
After everyone was inside, oohs and aahs echoed from the other three men with their gaze sailing over my masterpiece. We all took our seats around the table and lifted our wine glasses for a toast before the feasting.
“I’d like to say a few words,” Lynch disrupted from the opposite end of the table, and I lowered my glass as Ollie’s palm rested over my thigh. “First and foremost, I want to thank Mia and Oliver for inviting me. It’s been over twenty years since I had a home-cooked Thanksgiving dinner. And Mia,” he cleared his throat, “we’ve come a long way with still a long way to go, but I couldn’t be prouder of the lady you’ve become in such a short time. Thank you for giving me a chance to be a part of your life. To Mia and Oliver, everyone.”
“To Mia and Oliver,” my family echoed, clinking their glasses with dazzling smiles.
Ollie squeezed my thigh, leaning in, and I met him halfway. Our lips touched briefly before his nose brushed mine, and he faced the eager eyes around the table with his hand in the air. “Alright, dig in,” he called out, looking handsome with his hair styled in his usual messy wave, black pants, and a grey sweater. The swollen and red bruise under his eye changed colors but didn’t bruise his spirit.
After dishes passed around and plates filled high with food, everyone did just that and dug in.
Thankfully, the food wasn’t too bad, and I didn’t kill anyone. Over the next hour, we laughed over memories from our trip to Spain, heard Lynch’s crazy stories from his earlier days at Dolor, and listened to Travis and Summer explain about life with a newborn in the house.
“So, what’s next for the two of you?” Liam asked, eyes darting between Ollie and me.
The only people in this room who knew about Ollie’s dealings with the Links were Travis, Summer, Ollie, and me. Everyone else was clueless as to the double life Ollie had been living since Dolor, the criminal activity he was involved with, and our future of traveling the world put on hold until he could get out.
Ollie’s eyes met mine when a boyish smile crept along his lips. “I have no bloody clue, mate. But whatever is next, we’re ready for it.”
Bubbles floated over the hot bathwater, the scent of rose and bergamot bursting in our bathroom and seeping into every inhale. “Thanksgiving was a success,” Ollie said, sitting over the small wooden barstool and rinsing the soap out of my hair with the shower spray. “The food wasn’t half bad, so why the frown?”
I waved my hand over the water, collecting bubbles and blowing them from my palm. A few popped, and the rest drifted until it latched on to the subway tiled wall as I thought through my next words. “I have this sick feeling in my stomach that this is the calm before the storm, and it’s only a matter of time before we are swept away. This whole thing with the Links …” I shook my head and dropped my hands under the water, “Don’t forget, you promised me, Ollie.”
Ollie turned off the sprayer and pushed up his grey sleeves to his elbows before leaning in. “You are not losing me, love. It’s going to be okay.”
“How do you know?” It seemed as if I’d been asking him that same question since our eyes locked the first time.
A smile graced his lips. “I just do,” he whispered, giving me the same answer every time.
“Ollie—”
Ollie’s elbow dropped over his knee as he held his pointer finger over his lips. I snapped my mouth shut, caught by the daydream look in his eyes. The tip of his finger met my chest and my heart slammed against it before it made the journey to his. “Remember?”
I nodded. “I remember.”
A gesture so small but meant the world.
I stood from the bathtub, and Ollie wrapped a plush white towel around me to dry off before he picked a novel from the bookcase in the bedroom and joined me in bed.
As soon as the book opened, his angelic voice silenced the corrupt thoughts circling in my head, calming me, chasing evil, and bringing me to new heights and distant worlds where terrors, demons, and beasts weren’t welcomed.
It was two A.M. when I woke from the sound of our gate slamming right outside our window, and I turned over in Ollie’s arms to find him asleep on his side with his lips slightly parted. The wind howled, the gate slammed again, and footfalls pattered, the eerie notes spilling through the cracks of our front door.
“Ollie,” I whispered, shaking his shoulder. “Wake up.”
His eyes slowly blinked before they found mine under the moon’s light. “What’s wrong?”
“I think someone is outside the house.”
“Check it out, Mrs. ‘I’m-not-afraid-of-anything.’”
“It’s Mrs. Masters, now, thank you very much. And, no way. You go check it out.”
Another slam, another scuffle, and Ollie sat up from the bed and reached under the mattress to pull out a gun. My eyes widened, jumping back and forth from the weapon to his tense posture as he stood and slipped on sweats and a hoodie. Ollie tucked the small gun behind his back and grabbed a flashlight from the nightstand. He tried flipping on the lamp but the power was out. “Stay here and don’t move.”
“What are you doing with a gun?”
“I’ll be right back,” he replied, ignoring me. “Make sure your phone is close by.”
Ollie disappeared from our bedroom, and the sound of our front door closing rebounded off the walls inside as I sat in the dark. The only light was the moon, and my eyes fixed on the clock sitting on the bookcase. Every second waiting was long and agonizing, and my heartrate refused to obey the steadfast beat of time. Since the age of eight, I’d stopped being afraid up until the moment I’d met Ollie. I had never been a scared girl, but the one to be scared of. And, with everything to lose, I was fucking terrified.
The small tormenting voice in my head talked back, showing me every worst-case scenario, and I hadn’t heard the front door close when Ollie appeared in the doorway. “There’s nothing out there,” he said, setting the flashlight on the nightstand.