“EFB. Ezra… what?”
“Felix. Ezra Felix Baptiste.”
Raising up on one arm, my hair fell in a curtain around his face. “I’m not going to work for you, Ezra Felix Baptiste. But I will let you make me something to eat.”
His sleepy eyes blinked. “I’ll change your mind,” he decided. “I always do.”
I didn’t respond, because I was afraid he was right.
That was the last we mentioned business that night. He threw on pajama pants and gave me a t-shirt, which meant all other over-sized t-shirts in my collection would hereby need to be burned. I was basically the Cinderella of boyfriend t’s and I’d finally found the right fit.
We walked back downstairs to his kitchen where he made me eggs and toast, bacon and hollandaise sauce from scratch. We laughed and talked for hours, getting to know all the simple things about each other that would never get boring. And then he took me back to his bedroom where he made love to me again and then again.
I woke up the next morning wrapped in his arms and his blankets, with the crazy beautiful realization that I’d found my very own happily ever after.
Chapter Twenty-Five
A month later, on a hot June Saturday morning, I walked into Bianca like I owned the place. I didn’t, obviously, but dating the owner had its perks. Bianca and Lilou, even Sarita and Quince, were all completely familiar to me. I still didn’t always know what I was eating at them, but they were the places I spent the most time these days.
This morning, I had some finishing touches to make on the wall mural. It was finally finished.
Nobody greeted me as I slipped quietly into the restaurant and headed straight for the transformative piece that had taken me so long to accomplish.
Smoke danced from one side of the wall to the next—wispy, and dark, and emotive. I was proud of the way I’d shaded all of the different tendrils, giving it depth, making it come alive with hidden meaning. On the left, a pair of female eyes sat half-hidden under the cloak of gray and black. Cold and calculating, sad with unspoken grief. They were clearly feminine, but they were also mostly faded, barely visible in the rest of the scene.
In another two feet were another pair of eyes—they were hungry, desperate to fit in and be seen. In another couple feet a third pair, and then another pair after that. Each telling a tragic story that evoked sorrow and longing, leaving you with the feeling of something missing as real pieces of them had been left unpainted. Two more pairs of eyes could be seen on the far right, closer together than any of the others. Finally, there was hope. Finally, completion. They were brighter than the rest, meant to be there and connected by some unseen force. And all around the smoke swirled and billowed, becoming the most entrancing part of the mural.
Ezra had been a bit shocked to see that I’d painted his dating history on the wall of his restaurant. And embarrassed. But I assured him that only he knew the secrets of the painting, to everyone else it was only art.
In the end, he’d admitted that he couldn’t stop looking at it. The mural had done exactly what he wanted it to do, which was fill the awkward space of his restaurant and give it a memorable quality.
And not only that, but I was finally happy with how his eyes had turned out, finally pleased with how I’d painted him.
They were deep and mysterious, but warm too, and kind. The eyebrows were exactly right and the lashes were thick and defining. They were eyes that you could fall in love with if you stared at them too often.
Eyes I did fall in love with.
I prepared my paints and readied my brush to add a few brushstrokes here and there. Ezra walked out from the kitchen, murmuring about asshole chefs.
“Any luck?” I asked him, already knowing what was on his mind.
“He’s a fucking narcissist. He’ll take the job as long as his film crew can come in and restructure the entire building for when they need to tape. Fucking reality shows,” he growled. He held his thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “I’m this close to putting out a Craigslist ad.”
I tried not to laugh or even smile. But his indignation was adorable. “Patience, babe. You’ll find the right fit soon.”
His attention turned to the mural. “It’s stunning, Molly. Every time I walk out here, I‘m blown away all over again. Hiring you was such a good decision on my part.”
Of course he would take all the credit. “You’re so smart,” I deadpanned. “You’re such a genius.”
He flashed me a devilish grin. “Thank you.”
Wrapping his arm around my shoulder, he pulled me against his chest. We stayed like that for a long moment, hugging, holding onto each other… holding each other.
We’d been nearly inseparable for the last month. It had been the most beautiful, blissful challenge of my life. He was a difficult man and it turned out I was obviously a kind of a difficult female. But we needed each other. Our push and pull was what made me keep falling for him more and more and more. Because apparently there was no end to how deep my feelings for this man could go.
The morning after I’d slept over at his apartment, he’d marched me into SixTwentySix and raised hell like he promised. I didn’t need him to fight my battles for me, but dang was it nice to have him on my side.
His lawyer had joined us.
We went straight to the Mother Tucker’s office and let him have it. It turned out Henry Junior had done exactly what I’d expected him to. He’d run to Daddy and they’d decided to fire me. Not deal with Junior’s sexual deviance in any way. But fire me.
So, I quit.
And even though Henry had subsequently been put on probation and sent away for training and rehabilitation in sexual misconduct, Brent was still gathering a case. It included my testimony of course. And Catherine Dawes, who had come forward after I made such a scene and stormed out of the building with my dignity intact. There were three other women from the office who were also contributing to the case. They had been shut down by HR and Mr. Tucker just like I had.
I didn’t know what would happen to STS because of the suit. But I had trouble caring. I was sad of course that so many people might be out of a job, but if they were smart, they would jump ship before worse came to worst.
Like Emily. Who had left STS the same day I did. We’d decided to open up a social media strategy consulting firm together. Thankfully, we knew some wealthy investors who were very interested in our services.
Obviously, Ezra. But Killian and Vera also wanted in. They were dying for our help as they got closer to the opening of Salt. Plus, Vann wanted to hire us as well. For being only a couple of weeks old, our client list was bomb.
Our friends were also extremely happy for us. After I officially quit STS, we’d met Vera and Killian for lunch. Our first double date. And it had been everything.