Get it together, Esme. When did you become so weak?
I’m engulfed in a giant group hug that does nothing to curb my surfacing emotions. When I take a step back, I notice Marcus watching me. Silent, composed, aloof. It’s puzzling, but then I notice that the only one to welcome him home is Leonard.
Here’s the thing, as surprised as I was to see my mother and brothers here to greet me, I’m also not surprised. We all live busy lives, but once a week we get together for dinner at my parents’ home, and we’ve never been apart for this long. We’re close, and as the weekly dinners can become a bit obligatory, I see the merit in them now.
Mom intertwines her arm with mine. “Darling, how about we all go for lunch? You can get us up to speed.”
“Sounds like a plan.” I turn back to Marcus with a saccharine smile. “Honey, how about you head to the house? You look exhausted. I know for some, jet lag can be a real thing.”
I don’t wait for an answer as I spin on my heel, walk backwards, and give Marcus a cheeky wave. Leonard throws his head back and laughs, whispering something to Marcus, who just shakes his head.
“How does everybody feel about Asian?” Mom asks.
“Sounds right up my alley,” I respond.
I turn to face Marcus one last time and feel guilty for some reason.
Min takes my hand. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” But my thoughts are still on Marcus and the look in his eyes. Maybe I should’ve invited him to lunch.
8
MARCUS
“I’m more than a little insulted that you didn’t trust me to come fetch you from the airport in the car.”
“Last time you nearly killed me. I didn’t want Esmerelda to think I had planned an assassination attempt on her.”
Leonard scoffs. “She ditched you really fast.”
Heat shoots up my neck, and I clench my fists. “Wanting to be with her family is hardly ditching me.”
“And now you’re defensive.”
“Leonard, it was a long flight. And I’m not in the mood.”
“Is that what she’s been saying this whole trip?”
I snap my jaw shut against my harsh retort, my lips pressing into a thin line. The best way to end this conversation is to ignore Leonard entirely. I have no clue why he’s getting under my skin, but he is. Perhaps it’s that this entire trip was mentally exhausting with the back and forth, hot and cold with Esmerelda. It’s like walking on broken glass, never mind eggshells. Or perhaps it’s that some moments weren’t that bad.
I shift uncomfortably in my seat as the car cruises through the drenched streets. Rain beats against the windows, draggingmy mood lower and leaving me chilled. I briefly wonder if Esmerelda is warm enough and try to remember if she had a jacket with her. It’s these kinds of thoughts that exhaust me. Fighting my natural instincts to protect what’s mine when what’s mine is the enemy. Eventually, the gold-and-emerald detail of my family crest emblazoned on the ten-foot-tall, wrought-iron gates leading to my property come into view. As the car comes to a halt in front of the gates, I flick my fingers in a lazy greeting. The guard ducks toward the window, his eyes sweeping over me, then Leonard, before he eases back. The hinges groan, and the gates part just enough to let us in.
Our family has many properties, but this one always meant the most to me and is where most of my warm childhood memories come from. When I became alpha and my father gave it to me, I was surprised, to say the least. I hadn’t realized he knew how much it meant to me. My father is loyal and gracious, but he is also a very busy, self-absorbed man, not at all warm and fuzzy like Esmerelda’s family seems to be. It bugs me that I wonder what it would be like to have people miss me so much that they come to the airport to welcome me back from a vacation. It’s great that Leonard came, but seeing Esmerelda with her family today made me wonder what else I’d been missing from my life since my grandparents and mother died.
As we drive through the long canopy of trees lining the driveway, there’s a brief reprieve from the rain battering against the windows, and I can see a blanket of fog rolling in from the forest. When I was a boy, I’d pretend the fog was a cloak shielding me from the weight of expectations I wasn’t yet ready to carry. My thigh muscles tighten, heels digging into the floor like they might spring me free if I let them. The fog curls low over the lawn, a beckoning hand I have no business taking. I press my palm hard into my knee, pinning myself to the seat, breathingthrough the ache in my jaw until the dark stone of my home comes into view and the urge to flee subsides.
A shiver of trepidation creeps up my spine. Nothing has changed in terms of how everything looks on the outside, and yet I can’t help but wonder if that’s how I seem. The same old Marcus. Calm. Collected on the outside, yet full of the weight of my responsibilities. I cover a sigh with a yawn. Despite silence usually being my comfort, I now find it oppressive. However, it’s still preferable to the million questions Leonard is no doubt chewing back.
I cast a glance at my best friend, at the man I can tell anything. He’s taken the hint and is staring out the window, lost in his own thoughts, and I wonder why I’m dreading telling him about my honeymoon. Could it possibly be because it was way more tolerable than I’d expected it to be? Or could it be that despite being forced into this situation, I’m feeling a small amount of loyalty to my wife?
Make that a minuscule amount.
Barely even there.
But I’m duty-bound, and if you’re going to do something, you might as well do it right.
See what I mean?
