by Alexia Praks
Patrick laughed. "You cook, huh?"
"Of course," I said. "I'm pretty good, you know. Andy loves my cooking."
He chuckled. "And I'm sure Mr. Maxwell will enjoy it, too." He started the engine, and a moment later, we were out of the parking lot.
I gazed out the window and stared mindlessly at the busy traffic as we sped through the streets.
Mr. Maxwell will enjoy it, too. The statement both excited yet saddened me at the same time. The thought of James eating and liking my food made me deliriously happy. The sad part was he wouldn't be able to eat the food I was going to cook tonight. But there was always another time.
It was a full hour later when I finally arrived back at the hotel, my arms full of groceries. It didn't help that people were looking at me weird. Well, of course they would. Who in their right mind would buy groceries and cook while staying in a five-star hotels in Las Vegas? Where there were literally hundreds of renowned restaurants sprawled within easy access across the city.
After closing the door of the suite behind me, I went straight into the kitchenette and began my magic. I was quite excited to finally be able to eat something homemade and, of course, made by me.
After placing the groceries on the counter, I quickly phoned Andy. He picked up on the second ring.
"Hey, guess what?" I asked excitedly.
Andy chuckled at my unmistakable enthusiasm. "What?"
I shook my head. "No, you're supposed to guess my guess what."
He laughed. "All right," he said. "You're going to cook something, aren't you?"
I was shocked he was so spot on. "How did you know?"
"Well, you did promise me you'd cook something for me while I was in the hospital. That never happened, did it?" he asked rhetorically.
I sighed. "Okay, I'm sorry. A lot happened during that--" I paused immediately, thinking about Andy and Matt and their relationship.
Andy seemed to understand my abrupt break in speech and continued. "Hey, it's not too late." This was followed by a chuckle. "So what ya cooking?"
"Spaghetti Bolognese," I replied eagerly. "One of your favorites."
He laughed. "Cool. I'll come over and help. Got nothing else do to."
"Is Matt busy again tonight?" I asked curiously. I also wanted to add like James. I wasn't surprised of course, since they ran some of their businesses together, like ruling their underground domain in Las Vegas and this hotel and casino for example.
"Yeah," Andy said. "Look, I'll come over now and we can talk while we cook."
"Sure," I said and then hung up.
After putting the phone down, I got the ingredients out of the grocery bags and everything ready: saucepan for cooking the spaghetti, chopping board, knife, and other utensils. By that time, Andy knocked on the door, alerting me of his presence. I rushed over to let him in.
"Look what I got," he said the moment he stepped into the suite, a cheeky smile playing on his face.
I chuckled as I gazed at him, pleased at what he was holding. I believed it was one of Matt's favorite and most expensive wines, Sangiovese.
"Nice," I said, taking the bottle.
As Andy made his way into the kitchenette, I eyed him like a mother hen for any sign of pain or discomfort. I simply couldn't help myself. He'd only just been released from the hospital, after all, and as his older sister, his health and well-being was my responsibility.
He looked well today, though, which I was glad for. Although, I had noted there were still quite a few bruises on his skin. This worried me a little, but then again, I was always worried about Andy, so that couldn't be helped. I noted also that his gait was still awkwardly slow and slightly crooked, as if he had a very sore backside. I knew this was due to the many brutal injuries he'd received during his kidnapping.
I sighed, my heart aching. My poor brother. He had been through a lot of shit. I had known living with Uncle Herbert had been hard enough, but to be kidnapped and brutally beaten was altogether another level of hardship. It was probably hell. Torture.
Tears stung my eyes. Not wanting the damn things to pour down my cheeks, I sniffed.
Andy turned to look at me then for a moment. He must have seen my tears, because he sighed and raised his eyes heavenward.
"Come here," he said, pulling me into his arms. "You're being silly. Stop being so emotional."
Gosh! Once again, I knew he knew I was thinking about him, about his brutal kidnapping, about the cruelty that had been inflicted on him during those dark hours.
I shook my head. "I'm not being emotional, you ass," I snapped, rubbing my eyes with the backs of my hands.
Andy chuckled as if he found my defensive words amusing. "It's not that painful," he said to reassure me. "I'm used to it. It'll go away in a few days."
I didn't like the sound of that. I didn't like the fact that he was accepting the beating he'd received as if it were an everyday event, a routine of sorts, like drinking, eating, and sleeping. As we had when we were little and living under Uncle Herbert's cruel reign, kicking and smacking us because he felt like it. I thought we'd had enough of that shit. I'd thought we refused to accept that sort of life as being something normal. The day-in, day-out beating and abuse, both verbally and physically. Had I been wrong? Had it just been me who refused to accept something so cruel and tormenting was normal?
Or was it the fact that it was hard to let old habits die? Because for Andy and me, abuse had been normal during our teenage years. And once you accepted something like that as being a normal occurrence, I guess it was hard to let it go because it was so ingrained within you now, something that was a part of you.
"I know that," I said. "But still... You've been beaten so badly. It's painful just thinking about the torturous things you went through that night."
Andy stared at me for a moment. He looked a little lost and confused at my words. Then suddenly, he laughed as if he found something oddly amusing.
I, on the other hand, didn't find anything amusing at all. Not one bit. I was worried sick about him, and here, he was laughing at my concern.
"Stop it," I snapped, my face red. Gosh, I simply wanted to end this discussion right now. "Come on. Let's start cooking. I'm starving." With that, I turned my back on him and picked up some onions and garlic. I peeled the skin of the onion and was just finished chopping the vegetable into small pieces when Andy said, drawing my attention to him, "Thanks for worrying about me, Mia."
My heart skipped a beat and tears brewed in my eyes. I sniffed, and Andy laughed. I knew he was laughing at me because I was crying. Instantly, I was annoyed.
"It's the onion," I snapped. "You're jumping to conclusions."
He kept laughing until I lightly slapped him on the arm to make him stop.
Chapter 28
Mia
We took our time making the spaghetti Bolognese, and we enjoyed every moment of the process. About half an hour later, the kitchenette and living area smelled like an Italian restaurant. After putting some delicious-looking food neatly onto plates, I admired my handiwork while Andy poured us some wine.
As I gazed at the two plates, I couldn't help but gush with delight at the fact that it looked restaurant or recipe book worthy. Not wanting to let the pretty sight go to waste, I rushed in search of my cell phone while Andy watched me with interest. A moment later, I came back into the kitchen and took loads of photos, moving the plates this way and that, snapping the image in every which way possible.
I was about to put the phone away when Andy stopped me.
"Hold on. You haven't taken photos with the wine yet." With that, he placed two glasses of Sangiovese next to the plates of spaghetti Bolognese.
I chuckled, gave him a thumbs-up, and then continued to take photos. Once I had enough, we sat on the couch in the living area, and with the TV on and the volume low, we started eating.
Needless to say, we both enjoyed our dinner tremendously. It was better than going to a restaurant, and for what it was worth, cooking had kept
me busy, which meant I didn't have to think about James.
This situation, Andy and me sitting quietly together eating our dinner, reminded me of us back when we were in Mystic Spring, living in a small, rundown one-bedroom apartment. I had the cramped bedroom while Andy slept in the living room connected with the kitchenette. The memory made me smile as I observed him enjoying his food. It had been a while since I'd seen him looking so content, so at ease, and simply enjoying the moment.
He must have noticed me looking at him, and he put down his fork. "Stop daydreaming and eat your dinner."
I chuckled. "I haven't lost my touch, have I? It looks like you still enjoy my cooking."
"Your cooking is the best, Mia," he said and then devoured another forkful of spaghetti.
I nodded and returned my attention to my own meal, a smile playing across my face.
"So when are you due back for work?" Andy asked suddenly, his eyes on his plate.
I licked my lips and said, "In a week."
"Have you told Mr. Maxwell yet?" he asked. "I mean, he needs to know, right? I mean... how is everything going to work out?"
"I don't know," I said. "And I haven't told him about my job. I guess we'll work something out."
Andy nodded. "I guess so." Though he looked doubtful.
A bit later, when I was just finishing the last of my spaghetti, my phone dinged, informing me I had a message. Knowing it was probably James again, perhaps telling me he wouldn't be coming back at all tonight, I didn't want to pick up right away. Then another ding came, which was followed by another and then another consecutively.
Andy raised his brows in curiosity as he eyed my phone. "Sounds like you've got some messages. Aren't you going to check them?"
I hesitated for a moment, because really, I didn't want to read whatever it was James was messaging me. It'd be a disappointment, and it'd only depress me further. The thought of not seeing his face tonight made my heart ache in loneliness. It would be the fifth night in a row I hadn't seen him.
Since that hot, wild sex we'd had four nights prior, when James had nearly driven me to the brink of insanity with an earth-shattering orgasm, he had been so busy I hadn't been able to get a glimpse of him at all. Routinely, he'd leave even before I could get up to say, "Have a nice day at work." And of course, he wouldn't return until well after I'd fallen asleep. Some nights, I didn't think he'd even come back at all, because the bed still felt cold and untouched when I woke the next morning.
When another ding came, implying there was another message, I grew curious. It wasn't like James to text me so many times at once. The only person who did that was Aria.
Thinking back, she'd always enthusiastically messaged me after we had exchanged phone numbers. Then, of course, there were the pictures. Lots and lots of pictures. Mostly they were of her toys, the food she ate, and her friends and dogs, Alfie and Sammy. The two canines I'd met when I first ventured into James's life, thinking he was actually a middle-aged man and Aria his granddaughter.
Now I thought how silly I'd been to assume that. Although, I had to admit I'd always thought rich, powerful men were in their fifties or older. But of course, I'd been wrong. There was James, for example, who was nowhere near middle-aged. And of course, Matt and William.
Another ding shouted at me, urging me to quickly pick up. And I did, snapping the phone into my hands and scanning through the message application.
Flicking through, I found my assumption was spot on, as the messages were all from Aria. A bright smile flashed across my face instantly, and I chuckled.
"Aww... it's Aria," I said in delight. Not to mention relief. Emotion swept through me like the waves of a calming ocean. It wasn't James. I had to repeat that to myself. It isn't James. That meant he might be back early tonight, and I might get to see him after all. I hoped I wouldn't receive his messages within the next couple hours before heading off to bed. Because then it was a given he'd definitely be back before midnight.
In the messages, Aria told me what she was having for dinner in her short, childlike words. It was a beef burger, and it was delicious. Then there were some pictures attached with the messages. I chuckled when I saw the half-eaten homemade burger. It looked delicious indeed. The one below that was of Aria doing a thumbs-up, and she had a big grin on her face as she posed right next to the burger. The next one was of Alfie and Sammy having their pieces of burgers as well.
I laughed. The pictures were so cute. They were so sweet--Aria and the dogs. Gosh, I wondered if I'd get diabetes from the constant exposure to such a cute, sweet child.
"What is it?" Andy asked curiously.
I leaned over and showed him the photos Aria sent.
Andy glanced through them and asked, "Mr. Maxwell's daughter?"
I nodded. "Aria. Isn't she cute?"
Andy laughed. "Yeah. She is. Well?"
"Well, what?" I asked.
"Aren't you going to send her pictures of our dinner, too?"
Gosh, I hadn't thought about that. Suddenly, I was excited by his suggestion. Usually, I'd just reply to tell her the pictures looked awesome, but I'd never sent pictures of my own to her before. Now was as good a time as any, I thought and nodded in enthusiasm.
I typed in some texts, telling her the meal looked mouth-watering and she and the dogs were so cute. Then I attached a few pictures of my spaghetti Bolognese.
Within seconds after the message was sent, I received a reply of a hungry, drooling emoticon. I laughed. Curious, Andy leaned over to sneak a peek. When he saw the emoticon, he laughed, too.
It was then the phone rang, which made both Andy and me jump. On the screen was Aria's name, implying she was the one calling.
I quickly picked up and said, "Hi, Aria, sweetie. Your dinner looks delicious."
On the other end of the line, Aria giggled. "Yours looks delicious, too. When is Daddy bringing you over? I wanna eat spaghetti Bolognese with you. Did you made it yourself?"
I chuckled. "Yes, I did, with my brother's help."
"You have a brother?" she asked.
I nodded as I replied, "Yep. He's right here with me. His name is Andy, and he said you look cute."
At this point, I could imagine Aria blushing and grinning widely. "Really?" she asked, giggling with pleasure.
Seeing I would be taking a while talking with Aria, Andy took away my empty plate and wine glass. He started cleaning up the kitchen in his slow, awkward, injured way while Aria and I conversed, recounting our uneventful day to each other. Actually, it was more like Aria did the talking while I did the listening.
She told me about school, her friends, and what she had learned. Not to mention what she'd had for breakfast and lunch today, too: some cereal with milk and fruit and a sandwich. She found them boring and wished she'd have something more exciting tomorrow. Then she told me about how she, Alfie, and Sammy had played hide-and-seek and that they'd sneaked into James's room and slept in his bed.
I laughed at this point because I could just imagine little Aria and the dogs doing just that, wriggling around and destroying James's perfectly made bed.
Gosh, Aria was indeed an enthusiastic child. Finally, she paused for breath and then asked what I'd done today. Hence, I told her about my afternoon tea with Savanah and that we had some delicious cake with coffee, of which I promised to send her a few pictures once we hung up. Then just before I was about to tell her good night, she said, "Did you know I lost my phone today?"
"You lost your phone?" I asked.
"Uh-huh... I couldn't find it before I went to school. I mean, I'm always good, you know, at not using my phone while we have class 'cause we aren't allowed to play with the phone in class 'cause that's like naughty. But I couldn't find it this morning, my phone Daddy bought for me... So I got so worried... But then just before dinner, me and Sammy and Alfie were playing in Daddy's room, and that's when I found it. I found my phone... It was in Daddy's room...
"Oh, actually, I lied. I didn't find it. Sammy did. He barked
so loud while I was in Daddy's bed 'cause I missed him, and I sleep in his bed on the weekend 'cause I'm allowed to. So I got curious 'cause Sammy was barking so loud, and I followed him and found him in Daddy's closet, and then I found my phone in there... But I don't remember going in there..."
Suddenly, I heard her voice break as if she were very upset about it. She continued. "I didn't get to talk to Daddy... I missed his call... We were supposed to talk after school..."
"Oh, honey, it's all right," I said, trying to soothe her. "He'll call you again tomorrow, and you'll get to talk to him."
At this point, I heard Aria sniffling, and instantly, I felt my heart ache for her. "Aria, sweetheart, are you all right?" I asked. "I'm here for you."
There was a bit of a pause, and I was concerned. A moment later, Aria's voice came through, low and croaking. "I want Daddy to come home..." she said quietly. "I miss him... I want Daddy to bring you home..."
At this point, I felt my heart crush within my chest. Poor Aria. She was so young, and her dad was always so busy with work. I knew in my gut James's jet-setting lifestyle wasn't beneficial for his daughter's growth and well-being. And what about her mother?
So far, I could only surmise James was a single father. Though, I wasn't sure if he was divorced from Aria's mother or the woman had passed on. Because Aria had never mentioned her mother and the fact that she wasn't staying with her while James was away, I assumed it was the latter.
"I'm sure he'll be going home soon, honey."
The moment that statement was uttered, I felt my heart aching in dread. It reminded me to tell James I, too, had to return to Mystic Spring, back to my home and my job. That meant I might not get to see Aria again after all. And James? I felt a twist of pain within my chest, and I wanted to groan out in agony.
"Really?" Aria asked. "He told you that?"
I bit my lip. "I'm sure he's coming home soon, honey," I repeated.
"Who's coming home soon, Aria?" a voice asked from the distance.
I blinked, wondering who was asking.
"Daddy's coming home soon," Aria said to whomever was with her. Then I heard her giggling again. To me, she said, "I'm so excited. I'm so excited."
I chuckled. Really, now I must ask James when he intended to return to L.A.
