Raine (Gods of the Fifth Floor #2) - M.V. Ellis Page 0,61

They didn’t want to call one of your brothers Kanoa if they’re older than you?”

“No. My dad died in active service two months before I was born, so naming me Noa was my mom’s idea. They were actually going to call me Malia, so that’s my middle name.”

“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Of course, you didn’t. How could you? It’s okay.

So, why did I feel like it really wasn’t?

Chapter 23

Noa

* * *

I didn’t want my baggage to put a damper on the evening before we’d even started, but it felt like I was in danger of that happening, if I didn’t get my shit together. The tears were so close to spilling, and I really didn’t want to cry in front of Raine, like some kind of crazy weirdo.

“Would you excuse me a moment, please? I just need to use the restroom.” I had to get away before the tears came, so much so, that I left without checking where the bathroom actually was. I saw Tom crossing the room from the kitchen with our food, and he pointed me in the right direction.

I returned to the table having managed to stem the tide of tears before my face became a mess of mascara streaks, by practicing one of the breathing exercises my therapist had taught me.

“Sorry. I just had to...” I didn’t know what to say to complete that sentence, then I worried that he’d think I’d been out there taking a dump. Jesus. It turned out after all my fussing, it would have been less humiliating to fuck him in his office like a hooker.

“No need to apologize. I’m the one who should be sorry, and I am. Really.”

“It’s cool, honestly. This looks delicious. You’re right, none of it looks familiar. What is it?”

“I have the same things every time I come here. They’re all my favorites from growing up. Tom’s Mom was the best cook.”

“And she was your...?

“Housekeeper I guess you’d call her. We had a raft of nannies and different au pairs, but Mai was somewhat of a constant. That was especially important to me, as between being at boarding school and them just not being around, our parents were shadowy figures when we were growing up. She was more like a surrogate parent, or in loco parentis, a lot of the time.

“‘Our parents?’ You have siblings?”

“Yeah, a brother and sister.”

“Oh, older or younger?”

“One of each. Let me talk you through this food before it starts getting cold. I’m starving, aren’t you?” I didn’t miss how quickly he was speaking, or his extremely unsubtle changing of the subject to explain the dishes on the table in great detail. Each also had an accompanying anecdote—a funny story relating to something dumb he or Tom, or both of them, had said or done as butthead little boys growing up together.

In the work environment, Raine was super dominant, even as he also gave off ‘loose cannon creative’ vibes. But over dinner I saw a different side of him, one that was funnier and warmer than the volatile and reckless version that I worked with most of the time.

When we’d finished eating and I was literally full to bursting, Tom came over to say goodbye, and I observed the easy dynamic between the two of them, as I had when we’d first arrived. They seemed more like siblings than friends.

“You better not be trying to pay for your food, Ray. You know we don’t like that.”

“Well I’m not Chinese, remember? And we like to pay our way, so, yet again, we have an impasse. I’m not going to come here with a... friend, eat until our eyes bleed, then walk out without paying. It’s just not going to happen. Take the money. Put it in the donation box for that homeless charity you donate food to, if you don’t want to keep it, but please take it.”

“Ugh. Same shit every time you come here, motherfucker. Don’t you ever get tired of it?”

“I guess not.” Raine shrugged. “Don’t you?”

“I guess not.” Tom shrugged back, before turning to me.

“Listen. A word of advice about my brother here, because you seem nice, and I think Ray agrees with me.” Raine glared at him in a way that very unsubtly conveyed the sentiment, You wait until the next time I see you. I’m going to strangle you with my bare hands.

“Don’t be fooled by the douchebag routine. I mean do be, because he is an asshole, that shit is real. Like ninety-five percent of