Page 23 of Ghost Of You
Ethan, desperate to salvage what’s left of his pride, leans in again. "I gave you the best night ever,” he says, cracking that same infuriating smile. “From what I recall, you were screaming my name. 'Oh, Ethan, don’t stop!'" He moans, mimicking her voice so badly I choke on a laugh.
Maeve side-eyes him so hard it’s a miracle he doesn’t spontaneously combust. “I gave you the fakest orgasm ever,” she states, each word hitting Ethan like a punch to the gut.
Ethan's smile drops like a lead balloon, and he looks genuinely hurt. "You faked it?" he asks, sounding like a kid who just found out Santa isn’t real.
Maeve nods with the confidence of someone who’s just delivered a death blow in Mortal Combat. “So much so, I should be in the Guinness Book of World Records for the fakest orgasm.”
I can’t hold it in anymore and snort loudly, trying to stifle my laughter. This is just too good. Poor Ethan looks like he’s about to crawl into a hole and die, but honestly, he brought it on himself.
Not finding my laughing amusing, Ethan stares at me with slotted eyes and his brows furrowed, looking like he’s mentally plotting my demise. He’s always been a grumpy guts when anyone jokes about his sex life. He takes so much pride in the ‘pleasure’ he gives, and his ego is so big I swear it’s got its own gravitational pull. All it does is make me laugh harder.
I turn my attention back to Maeve, who’s smirking like she just won the lottery. "I think you broke his ego," I say, wiping a tear from the corner of my eye.
"If you can't please a beautiful woman like Maeve, you've more than likely not pleased many other women. Just be glad she’s told you, unlike the rest," Toby says, appearing out of nowhere like some sort of wise old tattoo sage. He’s already giving Ethan a pitying look as he taps him on the back.
Maeve flashes Toby a grateful smile. “Aw, thanks, Toby,” she gushes, lightly touching his arm.
Toby smiles at her, then turns his gaze to me, fighting to keep a straight face. He side-eyes Ethan, looking him up and down like he’s a particularly disappointing student. "More than just his ego might get broken if he carries on."
Ethan runs his hand over his face like he’s trying to wipe away the last five minutes. “You’re all wankers,” he mutters, though there’s no real heat behind it.
Maeve reaches out, looking genuinely sorry, and places her hand on Ethan’s arm, giving it a comforting squeeze. "I'm only joking," she says, her voice uncharacteristically kind.
Ethan’s eyes widen in surprise, like a puppy who’s just been given a treat. "Really?" he asks, his tone almost childlike, as if she’s just told him he won the lottery.
Maeve breaks, laughing so hard she has to hold onto the door frame for support. "No!" she manages to get out, tapping him on the arm once before looking at us all with tears of laughter streaming down her face and as we join her in a chorus of laughter.
Toby, always the gentleman, steps forwards and gestures to the spare chair. “May I?” he asks, and I nod. He strolls over, sits down, and spreads his legs out like he’s about to settle in for a long story.
Toby isn’t a bad-looking man. Picture a silver fox with a tidy beard and a hint of mischief in his eyes, heavily tattooed, and in his early fifties. Add glasses, and you've got a pretty good image of him. He was the first person we hired when we opened, and he’s been with us every day since—except for the tough time he took off a couple of years ago.
Two years ago, Toby lost his wife to cancer. They grew up down the street from each other, and their love story was the kind you’d read about in a novel. They got together when theywere only thirteen and stayed together until the very end. It was horrible seeing Toby go through that, but we all made sure he knew he had us. We’re his family now, his extended family, as he calls us, and we always make sure he feels welcome, no matter what.
“What are we all talking about, besides how shit of a shag Ethan is?” Toby asks, settling in like he’s just joined a gossip session at a knitting club.
“Maeve was just asking me how I'm doing, and I was just saying life is good. Laelia’s working like usual, we have a little one on the way, and I couldn’t be happier,” I explain, feeling a warm sense of contentment. Life really is good, even with the circus happening around me right now.
Toby scratches his head, his eyes flickering between me, Maeve, and Ethan as if he’s trying to decode a cryptic message. His expression grows more confused by the second, and I can practically see the gears turning in his head.
“I thought Laelia—” Toby starts to say, but before he can finish, Ethan practically jumps in front of him like he’s trying to defuse a bomb.
“T, my man. I was… er… wondering if I could borrow you for a second because I have something to ask you. Is that okay?” Ethan asks, his voice awkward and a bit too eager.
Toby squints at Ethan, his head tilted to the side like a curious dog. “Okay...” he drags out, clearly not buying whatever Ethan’s selling. Still, he hesitantly gets up from his chair.
Ethan releases a sigh of relief so exaggerated it’s a wonder his lungs don’t deflate like a balloon. He shoots me a quick, almost pleading look before nodding towards the door, silently urging Toby to follow him out of this awkward mess.
Before Toby disappears, though, he stops and looks at me with a mix of concern and confusion. “I’ll catch up with you later,Killian,” he says, his tone making it clear that this conversation isn’t over.
“Fine with me, T,” I say, trying to keep my voice light, even though I have no idea what’s going on. Toby nods, turns, and walks out the door with Ethan hot on his heels, leaving me alone with Maeve.
Glancing at Maeve, I notice her expression has shifted. The playful teasing from earlier is gone, replaced by a frown, and her eyes are brimming with unshed tears. The sight of it knocks the wind out of me. Why is she upset? Did something happen that I completely missed?
“Is everything okay, Maeve?” I ask, my tone gentler now, as I try to figure out what’s going on.
She meets my gaze, and I can see her trying to blink back the tears threatening to spill over. “I just…” she starts to say, but her voice cracks, and I see the first tear slip through. She shakes her head like she’s trying to snap out of it, but instead, she just bursts into full-on sobs. “I can’t do this,” she chokes out, turning on her heel as if she’s about to bolt.
“Maeve, wait—” I take a step towards her, my hand reaching out, but she spins around, holding up her hand like a traffic cop stopping traffic.