Page 242 of Hide and Keep

Edwin looks at Arthur, who gives a single nod without even glancing up from his report.

“I look forward to it.”

“Awesome.” I clap my hands once before turning to Ever.

I’m opening my mouth to ask her when Ryan beats me to it.

“Miss Munreaux, how about you? Will you finally allow me the honor of delighting your taste buds with something new and unexpected?”

To keep from telling him to never, ever speak to her again, especially likethat, I ask Ryan, “What about your taste buds? Are you gonna try it, too?”

“I always test my dishes before service to ensure they exceed expectations.”

“What’s ceviche?” Ever questions.

“You’ve never had it before?” I ask like I don’t already know she despises anything with citrus. I had to get creative in my research.

“I don’t know. You’re not saying what it is.”

Just as Ryan jumps into what I’m sure will be a long-winded, overly complicated description, I tell her, “It’s got citrus in it. A lot. That’s what ‘cooks’ the fish.”

“Then no. Obviously not.”

Obviously.That’s exactly why I chose it.

Breakfast returns to the mostly silent affair it normally is. It’s not until we’re on our way to Littoral that Ever says, “Sorry about that in there. I didn’t mean to offend you. It was supposed to be aimed toward my father.”

“It’s okay.” I am a poor man. So what? I didn’t grow up on a yacht but I can still make the future owner of one come eight times in one night. And hopefully, when she’s older and richer and on that yacht, she’ll remember those nights with the kind of smile on her face that whatever dickwad she’s with will have to ask her about, but she won’t answer because it’d make him jealous as fuck knowing he’s never been able to get her to come that many times.

Instead of feeling smug about that, a wave of melancholy washes over me, threatening to drag me to the deepest pit of hell. Ever won’t be with me. We know that. But who will she end up with? Definitely someone rich. Richer than me. Hopefully someone that treats her better than…

Nah. No one will ever treat her better than me. I don’t give a fuck how much money he has. Dude isn’t cherishing her like I do.

I reach over to grab a handful of her thigh and squeeze, almost to the point of pain. Fuck. I don’t want to let her go.

Thankfully, I don’t have to for a few more years.

When that time comes, if I have to break my own hands just to let her go, I will.

I will.

I probably, hopefully will.

I’ll have to.

Won’t I?

“I didn’t know you fish.”

“I don’t.”

“But then why did you—”

“Do me a favor,” I cut Ever off before I have to lie to her. I’d hate to do that at this point, after all we’ve been through. “Don’t eat the ceviche tonight.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Even if your father or Ryan insists you try it, don’t. Throw a fit, do whatever you have to do, but don’t touch the ceviche.”

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