This Time He Pursues Me With All Chapter 104

Maya's POV:

Ethan and Parker sat down at the dining table like they were heading to their own execution.

Adam pulled out a chair next to him. Gestured for me to sit.

I didn't fight it. Just slid into the seat. Glanced at the food spread across the table.

Southern fried chicken. Mashed potatoes. Something that might've been green beans. A casserole I couldn't identify.

All of it looked... *off*. Wrong color. Wrong texture. Like someone had followed a recipe while blindfolded.

**"Dig in,"** Adam said. He grabbed two pieces of fried chicken. Dropped one on Ethan's plate. One on Parker's. **"This is how they make it in Cleveland. Maya, you'll love it."**

Ethan stared at his plate. Parker's smile looked painful.

Neither of them moved.

**"Come on,"** Adam said. **"Eat."**

Ethan turned to me. Desperate. **"Maya, you're from Cleveland. You must be craving this. Why don't you try it first?"**

He stabbed a massive piece of chicken. Transferred it to my plate.

Before I could react, Adam snatched it with his fork. Dropped it on his own plate.

**"Maya will eat later."**

I bit down on my lip. Hard. To keep from laughing.

I had no idea how Adam had convinced these two to show up. But judging by their expressions, they were regretting every life choice that led them here.

Under Adam's threatening glare, Ethan and Parker reluctantly picked up their forks.

Leaned in. Took the smallest possible bites.

Ethan lasted about two seconds. He grabbed a napkin. Spit the chicken out.

**"Jesus Christ. This is *terrible*."**

Parker was more polite. He chewed. Swallowed. His face turned an interesting shade of green.

Adam's expression flickered. Hope to disappointment. Then back to hope when he saw Parker finish.

**"Parker. It's good, right?"**

Parker cleared his throat. Chose his words carefully.

**"Maybe... less salt. Less sugar. And if you could tone down the... fishiness... it'd be perfect."**

Adam's face lit up. Like Parker had just told him he'd won a Michelin star.

He turned to me. Forked a piece of chicken onto my plate.

**"Okay, Maya. You can eat now."**

I took a bite.

Kept my face completely blank.

It was... not good. The chicken was simultaneously dry and greasy. Over-salted. Under-cooked in the middle. There was a faint chemical taste I couldn't place.

But I'd eaten worse. Way worse.

I worked my way through the chicken. Tried the mashed potatoes. (Lumpy. Somehow both watery and stiff.) The green beans. (Mushy. Drowning in butter.) The mystery casserole. (I still don't know what it was supposed to be.)

Didn't flinch. Didn't gag. Just chewed. Swallowed. Moved on.

Ethan watched me with horrified fascination. He reached for another dish. Took a bite.

Immediately spit it into his napkin.

I couldn't help it. I laughed.

**"It's delicious, isn't it?"** I said sweetly. Used the serving spoon to pile more food onto his plate. **"Here. Try this one. And this. Oh, and definitely this."**

Ethan looked like I'd just sentenced him to death.

Adam's jaw tightened. **"Maya. You're *my* woman. Why the hell are you serving food to Ethan?"**

I filled Adam's plate to the brim.

**"Eat."**

**"Maya."** His voice dropped. Got softer. Almost vulnerable. **"You didn't deny it. Does that mean you're admitting you're my woman?"**

**"In your dreams."**

But he grinned anyway. Picked up his fork. Started eating.

Then stopped.

His face did something complicated. Shock. Disgust. Betrayal.

He grabbed my fork. Yanked it out of my hand.

**"Stop eating. Right now."**

I raised an eyebrow. **"That bad?"**

**"You think this is *edible*?"**

**"It's fine. I can get it down."**

He stared at me. Something shifted in his expression. Softened.

Then he grabbed my wrist. Pulled me to my feet.

**"Come on. We're going out."**

I dug my heels in. Grabbed the edge of the table.

**"Too much trouble. Let's just eat here."**

**"Maya. The food is *inedible*."**

**"I'll make something."** I slipped my hand free. Headed for the kitchen. **"Everyone can just... eat what they can stomach."**

The kitchen looked like a crime scene.

Pots everywhere. Ingredient containers open. Flour dusted across the counter. Something sticky on the floor.

I paused. Two seconds.

Then started cleaning.

Mrs. Johnson appeared in the doorway. Rushed over to help.

---

Ethan and Parker bolted the second they finished eating.

By the time Mrs. Sterling and Amy got back from their dinner out, the kitchen was clean. I'd whipped up a simple pasta and salad. Nothing fancy.

Mrs. Johnson wouldn't stop talking.

**"Mrs. Sterling, you should've seen her,"** she gushed. **"Maya is *wonderful*. You have excellent taste. She made a whole meal in under an hour. And the way she cleaned up after Mr. Sterling's... cooking experiment... She's organized. Efficient. So polite. Mr. Sterling is a lucky man."**

Mrs. Sterling beamed. **"I know. I like her more every time I see her."**

Amy ran over. Hugged my legs.

I bent down. Kissed the top of her head.

Tried not to think about how easy it would be to get used to this.

---

The next morning, I was halfway through breakfast with Amy when my phone rang.

Ryan.

I picked up.

**"Mom's going into surgery at eight."** No greeting. Just straight to the point. **"Get over here."**

**"I have work."**

**"Are you *serious*?"** His voice shot up. **"Work is more important than Mom? Do you have any sense of priorities?"**

I pressed my lips together. Kept my tone flat.

**"For me? Yeah. Work is more important. Work pays the bills. Work pays for daycare. Work pays for medical bills."**

**"Missing *one day* won't kill you. They'll just dock your pay."**

**"I don't want my pay docked."**

**"Maya. What the hell happened to you? You used to care."**

**"I should've stopped caring a long time ago. You'll get used to it."**

Silence. Then a sharp inhale.

**"So you're really not coming."**

**"I told you. I have work. Let me know when it's over. That's it."**

He hung up.

---

I dropped Amy at daycare. Headed to the office.

At 10:47 a.m., my phone buzzed.

A text from Ryan.

**[Surgery went well. She's in recovery.]**

I stared at the message. Waited for something to surface. Relief. Guilt. Anything.

Nothing came.

I typed back three words.

**[Got it. Thanks.]**

Then buried myself in work.

---

At 4:15 p.m., my phone rang again.

Linda. The nurse I'd hired.

I picked up.

**"Ms. Bennett?"** Her voice sounded tired. Frazzled. **"I need you to come to the hospital. Your mother's asking for things I can't handle alone. And the doctor wants to talk to family about the post-op care plan."**

I rubbed my temple. **"Where's my brother?"**

**"He left around noon. Said he was grabbing lunch. I haven't seen him since."**

What.

**"Did you try calling him?"**

**"Yeah. His phone's off."**