Page 57 of Unleashed

Maren scoffs. “Absolutely not.” She shovels up a pile of loaded baked potato. “I’m telling you to go home.”

“What does your house look like?” Zara interrupts from where she sits, hoarding her meal and both appetizers. “Do you have two bathrooms?”

Maren’s spine seems to stiffen, and while I’m not exactly the most perceptive person out there, it seems like the prospect of explaining the differences between my house and theirs might be making her a little uncomfortable. I’m not exactly sure why, but it’s yet another thing I will be finding out.

For now, I’m going to hedge.

“I do have two bathrooms.” Plus a few, but that doesn’t seem important to mention right now. “But my house isn’t as comfortable as yours.” That’s not even hedging. My house is beautiful. Furnished with the best of the best. Every inch of it is custom designed and completely thought out.

And yet there’s not a sofa inside it I would rather sit on than the one parked in Maren’s living room.

Zara grins, seeming thrilled I find her home comfortable. “That’s because Maren likes cozy things.”

So Maren doesn’t love vegetables, but she does love cozy. Cozy, I can work with.

She also seems to fucking adore steak, because hers is already obliterated.

Wishing I’d given her the larger portion to start with, I cut off a chunk of mine, dropping the addition in the vacant spot where hers used to be. “You should’ve told me you’re a carnivore. I would’ve ordered accordingly.”

“I’m not a carnivore. I like things besides meat.” Maren doesn’t even pretend like she’s going to turn down my steak, just stabs the whole section with a fork and brings it to her lips. “I love dessert.”

“Is that why you always bring those sweet and salty bars I hear so much about to girls’ night?” I’ve watched with no small amount of envy as Maren, Brooke, Mariah, and Ruth consume an entire container of the things while I pretend I’m only loitering in their vicinity because my brothers are.

Girls’ night ended up being girls only for all of about five minutes before Titus, Toby, and Tucker started finding their way into the mix. They don’t necessarily get involved, but more or less linger at the edges. So, I started doing the same. It was an excuse to spend time with the twins and Birdie. A rare chance to hang out with my brothers outside of work.

Could I have also been taking advantage of an opportunity to be around Maren?

Anything’s possible, I guess.

Maren’s lips barely curve into a smile. “I bring the sweet and salty bars because your sisters-in-law have made it clear I won’t be allowed in without them.”

I love that she looks proud, but seeing it now only makes me realize how rare that expression is on her. I saw it when I asked her about her van. The day Brooke officially hired her on. And now.

And that’s a fucking shame. Because Maren should be proud of every damn thing she does. She’s one of the hardest workers at the company. She’s brilliantly smart. Fearless and brave. Has done one hell of an amazing job raising her sister. Created a home I’m envious of.

She’s fucking fantastic, and I hate that she doesn’t seem to relish it.

“They must be some magical dessert bars then.” I decide to continue talking about something she isn’t afraid to be proud of. “I guess that explains why I’ve never gotten one.”

“You’ve never gotten one, because you’re technically not supposed to be at girls’ night.” Maren shoves the last of my steak into her mouth, smirking at me as she chews.

If she thinks this is going to deter me, she’s real fucking wrong. “I’m not the only one crashing your party.” I grab the bag, reaching in to pull out all three servings of triple chocolate cake, sliding two to Maren so she can be in charge of Zara’s, before opening mine. “You’ll have to take your grievances up with my brothers.”

“Is that cake?” Zara zeros in on what I’ve got. “I love cake.”

“You can have cake as soon as you eat one more Brussels sprout and finish your glass of water.” Maren doesn’t lay out crazy requirements that could result in Zara shoving in more food than she can fit. Just hydration and boundaries. My mom was the same way. We never had to clean our plate, but we did have to try everything.

Especially the green shit.

While Zara downs the last of her beverage, Maren collects the remnants of our meal. I quickly stand, doing the same, which brings us to the kitchen together again.

I block her path a little more carefully this time, making sure she can’t run away from what I’m about to say. I think it’s something she desperately needs to hear.

Moving in close, I lower my voice, holding her eyes with mine. “You are doing fucking amazing with Zara, you know that, right?”

Maren presses her lips together, a flash of uncertainty pinching her pretty features.

But there’s going to be no room for uncertainty where her parenting is concerned. Not if I have anything to say about it.