Scarlet (The Lunar Chronicles #2) - Marissa Meyer Page 0,124

was labeled with a picture of cartoon-red tomatoes. Judging from the enormous dents in its side, Wolf had been trying to open it with a meat tenderizer.

He glanced up at her, and she was glad that she wasn’t the only one red faced. “Why would they put food in here if they were going to make it so hard to open?”

She bit her lip against a weak smile, not sure if it was from pity or amusement. “Did you try a can opener?”

At Wolf’s blank expression, she stepped around the table and riffled through the top drawer. “We Earthens have all sorts of special tools like this,” she said, emerging with the can opener. She clamped it around the can’s lid and slowly twisted it open.

Wolf’s ears glowed pink as he curled back the lid and frowned down at the bright red goop. “That’s not what I was expecting.”

“They’re not farm fresh like you’ve become accustomed to, but we’re just going to have to make do.” Digging through the cabinet, Scarlet cobbled together a can of olives and a jar of marinated artichoke hearts. “Here, we’ll have an antipasto.”

She felt the lightest touch against her hair and ducked away. Wolf’s hand dropped down, gripping the edge of the counter. “I’m sorry. You had—your hair—”

Setting down the jars, Scarlet felt for the back of her hair, finding it knotted and tangled as a haystack. She shoved the olives at Wolf. “Why don’t you give the can opener a try?”

Mindlessly picking at the tangles, she found a fork and sat down at the long table. It had years of military personnel’s initials carved into the top, reminding her of her prison cell in the opera house. Though being on the ship was immeasurably better than being stuck in that basement, the confinement of it still pressed in around her, almost suffocating. She knew that her grandma had probably been stationed on a similar ship during her time in the military. No wonder she’d retired to a farm, with all the sky and horizon a person could want.

She hoped that Émilie was still taking care of the animals.

When she couldn’t find any more knots, she smoothed down her hair with both hands, then twisted open the jar of artichokes. Glancing up, she saw that Wolf was still standing with the olives and tomatoes clasped in each hand.

“Are you all right?”

His eyes flashed. Panic, she thought. Maybe fear.

“Why did you bring me here?” he said. “Why didn’t you just leave me?”

Looking down, she speared an artichoke and watched the oil drizzle back into the jar. “I don’t know. I didn’t exactly stop to weigh the pros and cons.” She let the artichoke heart plop back down into the marinade. “But it didn’t feel right to leave you there.”

He turned his back on her, setting the cans on the counter, and picked up the can opener. On the third try, he managed to clip it to the olive can’s lid and twist it around the edge.

“Why didn’t you tell me the truth?” said Scarlet. “Before we got to Paris?”

“It wouldn’t have mattered.” He set the opened cans on the table. “You still would have insisted on going after your grandmother. I thought I could plead your case with Jael and convince him that you were useless to us—that he should let you go. But I could only do that if I was still loyal to them.”

Scarlet stabbed the artichoke heart again and slipped it into her mouth. She didn’t want to go over the what-ifs. She didn’t want to linger on all the choices that could have ended with her and her grandmother safely back on the farm. She didn’t even know if such choices had existed.

Dropping his gaze, Wolf eased himself onto the bench opposite her, grimacing in pain at each movement. Settled, he picked a tomato from the can and stuffed it into his mouth. His nose crinkled. He looked like he was choking down a worm as he swallowed.

Scarlet pressed her lips against a chuckle. “Makes you appreciate my garden tomatoes, doesn’t it?”

“I appreciated everything you gave me.” He picked up the can of olives and sniffed at them, wary of being tricked again. “Although I didn’t deserve any of it.”

Scarlet bit her lip. She didn’t think he was referring to the produce.

Dipping her head, she dunked her fork into the can of olives Wolf was holding, managing to spear two on its tines.

They ate in silence, Wolf discovering he liked the