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“Come on. I’ll buy you a coffee. And I’ll let you interrogate me.”
When Agatha beams, I add, “I’m not promising to tell you everything, though. I am bound to both these men and some things I’ll take to the grave.”
From the look on my face, Agatha must have realized that I am being serious.
The coffee shop is a fancy vegan one. The strong taste of the coffee that attributes to the oatmilk this café makes me sigh in bliss.
“I didn’t take you for a vegan,” Agatha muses, studying the large place with its wooden tables and layers of pink and white, and a large poster of a cartoon cow that has a cross on it and the caption, ‘Come at me, bro’.
“I’m not. The coffee here is just amazing. It’s a luxury I permit myself once a week. It’s not exactly cheap,” I say, dryly. As the server comes over to put a large éclair donut before me with a wink, I grin. “Thanks, Nick.”
“You didn’t order a donut,” Agatha glances at the server as he makes his way back to the counter.
I hide my smile behind my cup. “I give his kid sister free dance lessons. He can’t afford it, and she’s gifted.”
“Oh.” Agatha takes a sip of her coffee and blinks, surprised. “It is good.?
??
I study her as she puts the cup down after a few sips. “All right. How’d you meet him?”
I deliberately pretend to misunderstand the question. “Well, you know how expensive law school is. I saw an advertisement for a bartender and then Zayn—”
“I meant Elijah,” Agatha scowl.
“Oh,” I shrug. “I was at the hospital for an appointment. I was expecting Mila at that point. And I bumped into Elijah, spilling his coffee all over him.”
Agatha blinks. “But you’re business partners with him; How do you go from spilling coffee on someone to becoming their business partner?”
I haven’t even discussed this with Zayn. Am I really going to tell Agatha about this?
She won’t let this go. I can see that she is determined to get to the bottom of who Elijah is and a part of it probably stems from her need to protect the man I fell in love with, despite my best efforts not to.
I don’t have to tell her everything.
I don’t have to tell her about the bruises on my arms that he saw or the fact that when Elijah walked into my house two weeks later, he never looked more terrifying than in that moment as he ordered me to go outside and wait in the car.
I don’t have to tell her that I covered my ears against the screams coming from inside the house.
“I was pregnant and emotional, and I started crying,” I say, glossing over some of the more gory details.
“You don’t seem to be the crying type.” Agatha gives me a suspicious look.
I cried. But not because I was pregnant.
My lips twist into a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. “I was pregnant. You know how it is.” I gesture towards the bump protruding from her stomach.
Her hand automatically goes to rest on the bump, and I continue, “He took me out for coffee. Said he hated making women cry.” I chuckle then. “He also insisted that I take juice instead.”
It is an odd detail to remember, but at that time, he was so gentle with me, so kind, that it was a memory I held on to; his quiet insistence that I get juice instead of coffee—somebody looking after me after such a long time.
Taking another sip of the coffee, I try to get my thoughts in order. “He offered to drop me home. And since I didn’t have a car, I agreed.”
And that was when he saw me being dragged into the house.
“That still doesn’t explain how you and Elijah became business partners,” Agatha’s voice breaks into my cluttered thoughts.
Impatient, isn’t she?
