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Chapter16
Eden
Maddox is a little cagey when we finally dress and head down to the dining room. He’s still holding my hand and keeping me close, but he’s giving me one-word answers and avoiding conversation like the plague.
Maybe he’s over it, but it seems a little deeper than that. There was no denying how he felt when he was eating me out, then holding me after, and I don’t think it’s a huge leap to assume he’s feeling the same way I am: all twisted up and unsure where to go from here.
I’ve been pretending for the last several hours that I haven’t noticed the storm slowly moving away. I can’t hear rain anymore, and the last time I glanced outside, there was nothing more than a light mist.
Tomorrow, there will probably be sun, and I’ll have to face the reality of our situation.
But tonight…
I look over at Maddox as he pushes the ballroom door open, and my heart does summersaults in my chest. Tonight, I have him—I have this. I have us. I don’t want distance between us, but I also don’t want to cross his boundaries, so as I step through the threshold, I reach for him, not quite making contact.
He notices the movement, and his gaze flickers downward before moving back up again. His expression is pensive—a hardness around his eyes, his lips set in a flat line—but he reaches for me. My breath leaves my lungs in a quiet whoosh as he tangles our fingers together, and I can’t help but smile as he leads the way to a dark corner lit up by a handful of hanging lanterns and several candles on the table.
“Whatever you do,” Maddox murmurs, leaning into me, “pretend like it’s the most amazing meal you’ve ever had.”
“I heard that!” A voice speaks from somewhere—lightly accented, heavily indignant. Maddox laughs as we draw closer, then another figure appears as if emerging from the shadows. He’s in jeans and a T-shirt, and I immediately recognize Miguel’s husband. “Mon coeur, you will tell me exactly how you feel about this meal. The brutal truth.”
I smile at him, shaking my head as he pulls my chair out for me. “I can’t imagine a world where this won’t be the best meal of my life.”
René chuckles and pats my shoulder. “Save your flattery for this one. He needs it.”
Even in the dim glow of our pathetic light sources, I can see Maddox flush and glance away uncomfortably. He doesn’t deny it though, and that’s no surprise. From the bits and pieces he’s told me about his life, his parents, and his ex, it’s obvious he’s about as starved for stability and affection as I am.
I find myself viciously resentful that there’s nothing I can do about our situation. Would that I could, I’d sell everything I have and just… I don’t know… figure it out? But I don’t actually have anything worth selling, and there’s not much Icanfigure out. The lodge runs like a well-oiled machine, and it’s not like my sorry admin skills and years of working as a glorified intern would benefit this place.
And there’s no way in hell I’d put the burden on Maddox to help me find where I belong. He’s obviously got enough on his plate.
Shaking myself out of those thoughts, I look up at René one last time. “It smells amazing.”
He puffs his chest out. “I know.”
At that, Maddox scoffs. “Well, this has been lovely, René. Please fuck off. I’m sure your husband is missing you.”
“He’s in the stable with the horses,” René says, wrinkling his nose, but there’s a soft smile playing at his lips. “But if you’re sure you don’t need anything…”
“We’re sure,” Maddox says, and it’s obvious he can’t hide his exasperation anymore.
It only makes me laugh, though, because from the look on René’s face, the man is enjoying tormenting him. It doesn’t last, fortunately for Maddox’s blood pressure. René takes one last glance at the table, then disappears the way he came. Maddox takes a moment to breathe out a sigh, then reaches for the dish covers and reveals one with deliciously browned chicken and the other with some sort of… I think it’s rice.
It looks like the fancy shit Flor is always trying to make me eat whenever she drags me to restaurants I can never afford.
“Risotto,” Maddox says with a soft smile, indicating the rice dish. “Wild mushrooms—but they’re not actually wild.”
I lift my brow. “Deception?”
Maddox snorts a laugh and shrugs. “René farms them behind their cabin. They’re the stuff he used to forage for when he was a little kid. I don’t really know the ins and outs of it, but it’s been one of his passions for the last couple of years.” Maddox digs the serving spoon into the risotto and scoops a generous amount onto my plate. It’s definitely more than I can eat, but I don’t stop him because he looks kind of shy and sweet about it. “I’ve heard some horror stories about wild mushrooms though, so I’m gonna let him get away with this white lie.”
I laugh softly. “His secret is safe with me.”
Maddox smiles at me as he reaches for the chicken dish with the tongs left on the table and sets one of the quarters on my plate. “This is French comfort food. Cassoulet. He puts this on the menu every winter. He thinks it’s hilarious that most of the guests think it’s some fancy-ass, fine-dining dish.”
I dig my fork into the chicken and take a bite. The flavor explodes on my tongue, and I give him a wide-eyed stare. “It tastes like it.”
“If you ask him, he’ll just say it’s because Americans don’t have a sophisticated enough palate to tell the difference. It gets under his skin so bad that I’m easy to please.”
