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“Can’t argue with that,” Elizabeth interceded. “I want to see the Northern Lights.” She forced cheerfulness into her voice, despite the ache in her soul, pulsing painfully at John declaring exactly the things she’d once wanted most in life. She drained the last of her sangria, trying to avoid his lingering stare.
ChapterTwenty-Eight
BROKEN WING – Martina McBride
After one more ofAriana’s dinner conversation questions, everyone had empty plates.
John stood. “You ladies stay put. I’m bringing dessert.” He stacked their dinner plates and carried them into the kitchen.
He rinsed the plates and loaded them in the dishwasher before cutting up the brownies and topping them with ice cream. Dinner had been eye-opening. Everything Elizabeth did for the women had a purpose.
He’d gotten part of her story, but Wren and Ariana showed up before he’d gotten full disclosure. Certain things made more sense now. In addition to a physically abusive father, her husband was emotionally abusive—or more, considering she had to escape from him.
The questions and dinner conversation kept him from dwelling on what she’d been through. With the way Wren kept pouring the sangria, Elizabeth was chattier than usual. After dessert might be a good time to see if she’d tell him the rest. It was a good thing her asshole ex was out of her life and not showing up like J.R. now that John knew how he’d treated Elizabeth.
He compartmentalized again and served up dessert with a smile. Ariana’s question about talking with an accent had everyone laughing as they ate and polished off the sangria. He, naturally, had the good ole Southern boy accent down but could pull off a decent Bostonian accent and kept up with the Boston Red Sox enough to fool most people. He showed off a little, proving his ability to speak French and Arabic. Elizabeth admitted to turning up her Southern accent and faking an Australian accent to get better tips back in the days when she worked at an upscale restaurant. It surprised him, but he could see how it’d worked since she’d sounded down-right sexy speaking with both.
Once dessert wrapped up, John carried the bowls into the kitchen. He stayed behind scrubbing the serving dishes when Wren and Ariana headed out. “You didn’t finish telling your story. Did this Carroll woman inspire what you do now by offering you a place to stay?”
“No. Loula was the front-end manager at the grocery store I went to. See, I was doing anything I could do to earn enough cash to pay for an attorney and a place to live. I started buying expensive bottles of wine at the grocery each week. After Adam logged in the receipt, I’d return the wine for cash, buy cheap wine, and refill an empty bottle I’d kept.”
“That’s inventive.”
“Well, Loula noticed that I returned the same brand of wine more than once. I thought she was going to block my account or something, but she asked questions and picked up on what was going on. She invited me to lunch and got the brunt of me unloading. I hadn’t told anyone how bad things were with Adam.”
The wine had loosened Elizabeth’s tongue.
“She told me about legal aid lawyers who take cases at affordable rates. I had no idea that kind of help was available, and I hit the jackpot with a lawyer, Denice, who had a passion for helping women and children. I just wanted out, but Denice was adamant that I was due some type of settlement, despite the prenup. The settlement we eventually negotiated was enough to cover tuition and living expenses for me to get my degree.”
“Good for her. And you. Did you know you wanted to be a counselor?” He tried not to imagine what shit her ex had done to negate the prenup.
“Not initially. I was thinking of becoming a nurse. I could help people and always find a job wherever I decided to live, but when I was taking my second psychology class, I had one of thoseah-hamoments about how I’d left my abusive father, only to end up in a different abusive relationship. Being a counselor had different benefits.”
“Like not dealing with puke and crap.” Not that she’d ever complained about caring for Boss.
“There’s that, and less physical contact. And being my own boss.”
“Was it hard going back to school, being older than the other students?” He put a large brownie on a plate for her for later.
“There wasn’t a huge age gap, though my life experiences made me feel a lot older.”
“I know what you mean. I was only four years older, but I’d been in combat. I was not going to live in a dorm with a bunch of kids. Some guys tried to get me to join their fraternity. I already had brothers I could trust to have my back. I just wanted to get through school and back in as an officer, so I kind of missed out on the college life experience. What about you? Did you party or date much?” He was fishing, but maybe she wouldn’t pick up on that.
“I dated a little my first year. But like you, I pretty much stuck to classes.”
“Were the guys too immature for you?”
“Most were. I went out with a senior a few times, but he was kind of the typical frat guy only interested in drinking, partying, and . . . Anyway, that didn’t go anywhere.”
“Anyone else?” Might as well keep asking while her inhibitions were lowered. He’d already told her his dating history, and wanted—no, needed—to know more about her.
“A grad student in my psych program. I thought he’d be different.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’d rather not talk about it.” She closed up the dishwasher. “I think tonight went well. I thought adding you to the mix might be too soon for Ariana, but she did great, and you were fun.”
She softened her redirect with a compliment and a smile that did things to his ego and his body. “I think Ariana sees me as an overprotective big brother.” That was what he kept reinforcing with her. “Sorry for pushing for you to invite me when you weren’t planning to. I didn’t really get what you were doing. Showing them they have value. Boosting their confidence and teaching them about entertaining, not just chowing down. You’re a good woman with a big heart.”
