MARRIED TO MY EX FATHER IN LAW

DINNER

LOLA'S POV

"Would you like to have dinner with me?"

Ocean's voice from the doorway makes me jump. I'm curling up with a book in the library—my favorite spot these days—and I didn't hear him approach.

"Dinner?" I repeat stupidly. Like I don't know what the word means.

"Yes. With me. Tonight. Unless you'd rather eat alone, which is completely fine, I just thought..." He stops himself. Runs a hand through his hair. "Sorry. That came out like an interrogation. I'm just asking if you'd like company for dinner."

He looks uncomfortable. Ocean Moretti, the Capo who commands entire rooms with a look, is fidgeting in my library doorway asking me to dinner.

It's kind of adorable. Wait. Adorable? No. Not adorable. He's not adorable. He's just... awkward right now. That's all.

"I'd like that," I hear myself say. "Dinner. With you. That would be... nice."

"Yeah?" His face does this thing. Not quite a smile but close. "Good. Great. Cook made roast chicken. It's really good. I mean, everything she makes is good, but this is especially..." He stops again. "I'm rambling. Seven o'clock?"

"Seven o'clock," I confirm.

He nods. Turns to leave. Turns back. "You can say no. If you don't want to. I won't be offended."

"I want to."

Do I? Yes. Apparently I do. My heart is beating faster and I'm already wondering what I should wear and oh god, when did I start caring what I wear around him?

"Okay then. Seven." He finally leaves.

I sit there with my book unopened in my lap, wondering what the hell just happened.

At six-forty-five, I'm in my room changing for the third time.

"It's just dinner," I tell my reflection. "With your husband who isn't really your husband. No big deal. Stop being weird."

My reflection doesn't look convinced.

I settle on a simple dress. Nothing fancy. Just... nice. Better than pajamas but not like I'm trying too hard.

Except I am trying. I've brushed my hair twice. Put on makeup. Lip gloss.

For dinner.

In my own house.

With a man I live with.

"You're being ridiculous," I mutter.

But I don't change again.

At seven exactly, I make my way to the dining room. Ocean is already there, standing by the table looking almost as nervous as I feel.

He's changed too. Not his usual suit. Just dark jeans and a button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. Casual. Like he's trying not to be intimidating.

It's working. He looks... good. Really good.

Stop it.

"Hi," I say brilliantly.

"Hi." He pulls out a chair. "Please."

I sit. He pushes the chair in. Sits across from me.

The table is set beautifully. Wine glasses. Candles. Not romantic, just elegant. The way everything in this house is elegant.

Hannah appears with plates. Smirks at both of us like she knows something we don't.

"Enjoy," she says, way too cheerfully.

Then we're alone.

Ocean pours wine. I watch his hands. Strong hands. Capable. Nothing like...

No. Not thinking about Ethan. Not now.

"So." Ocean raises his glass. Pauses. "I don't actually know what we're toasting to."

"Not dying?" I offer.

He laughs. Actually laughs. It transforms his whole face. Makes him look younger. Less guarded.

"To not dying," he agrees.

We clink glasses. Drink. The wine is good. Everything in this house is good.

The chicken is perfect. Roasted with herbs and lemon. Vegetables that actually taste like vegetables instead of mush.

We eat in silence for a minute. Not uncomfortable exactly. Just... careful.

"This is nice," I finally say. "The food. The... everything."

"Cook is amazing. Been with me for eight years. She's..." Ocean stops. "Sorry. I'm doing that thing again where I ramble about nothing."

"You don't ramble."

"I do. When I'm nervous."

"You're nervous?"

"Terrified." He says it so matter-of-factly that I laugh. "I don't do this. Dinner. Conversation. Small talk. I do business meetings and territory disputes and violence. This is..." He gestures between us. "This is out of my depth."

"Me too," I admit. "I haven't had a normal conversation in four years."

"Then we'll both be terrible at it together."

That makes me smile. Actually smile. When was the last time I smiled at dinner? I can't remember.

We eat more. The silence is easier now.

"Can I ask you something?" Ocean says. "About your businesses. You mentioned real estate and tech. What does that actually mean?"

He looks relieved to be asked. Like he knows how to talk about this.

"Real estate is property development. Buying buildings, renovating, selling or renting. Mostly commercial properties. Some residential." He takes a sip of wine. "It's the legitimate side of things. Clean money. Good for taxes and appearances."

"And tech?"

"Software companies. Cloud services. Data management. Also legitimate. Started as a way to launder money, sorry, probably shouldn't admit that—but it's actually profitable now. We employ about two hundred people across three companies."

"Two hundred people have normal jobs because of you?"

"I guess. Never thought about it that way."

"That's kind of amazing."

He looks uncomfortable with the praise. "It's just business."

"Still. Two hundred families have incomes. Security. That matters."

"What about you?" he asks, clearly wanting to change the subject. "Did you work before... before Ethan?"

The question catches me off guard. "I was in school. Community college. Studying to be a teacher."

"A teacher?"

"Elementary school. I wanted to work with kids. Help them learn. Make them feel safe and valued and..." I trail off. "Sounds stupid now."

"It doesn't sound stupid at all."

"I never finished. Ethan said it was pointless. That I didn't need to work. That my job was taking care of him." The bitterness creeps into my voice. "So I dropped out. Stayed home. Became what he wanted."

"You could go back."

"What?"

"To school. You could finish your degree." Ocean leans forward. "If you wanted to. I could help. Pay for classes. Whatever you need."

The offer is so unexpected I don't know what to say. "You'd do that?"

"Why wouldn't I? You're smart. You should get to do what you want."

"But I'm twenty-three. I'd be starting over..."

"So? Some people don't figure out what they want until they're fifty." He smiles slightly. "You've got time."

I stare at my plate. At this dinner I'm having with a man who just offered to pay for me to go back to school. To chase a dream I thought died years ago.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" The question bursts out before I can stop it.

Ocean pauses. Sets down his fork. "What do you mean?"

"I mean... you saved my life. Married me. Gave me this house. Space. Freedom. And now you're offering to pay for school. You don't have to do any of that. The marriage was enough. You don't owe me more."

"I'm not doing it because I owe you."

"Then why?"

He's quiet for a long moment. Choosing words carefully.

"Because you deserve to have a life," he finally says. "A real one. Not just survival. You deserve to dream about things. Want things. Become things. And if I can help with that, why wouldn't I?"

Tears burn behind my eyes. I blink them back. "No one's ever... no one's ever said anything like that to me before."

"Then you've been around the wrong people."

"I was an orphan," I hear myself say. "Did you know that? My mother died when I was seven. No father listed on my birth certificate. No grandparents. No aunts or uncles. Just me."

"Lola..."

"I grew up in foster care. Six different homes by the time I was eighteen. Some were okay. Some were..." I swallow hard. "Some were not okay. And the whole time, all I wanted was for someone to want me. To choose me. To say 'you matter.'"

Ocean is very still, Listening.

"When Ethan pursued me, when he said he wanted to marry me, I thought that was it. Finally. Someone wanted me. Someone chose me." A tear escapes. I wipe it away angrily. "I was so stupid."

"You weren't stupid. You were lonely. There's a difference."

"He made me feel like I was nothing. Like I was lucky he even tolerated me. Like no one else would ever want someone as worthless as me."

"You're not worthless."

"That's what everyone says. But saying it doesn't make it true."

Ocean stands. Walks around the table. Crouches next to my chair so we're eye level.

"Look at me," he says gently.

I do. His eyes are so intense. So sincere.

"You are not worthless. You survived four years of abuse. You kept yourself alive in an impossible situation. You're sitting here right now, having dinner, talking about going back to school. That takes strength. Courage. You are one of the strongest people I've ever met."

"I don't feel strong."

"You don't have to feel it for it to be true." His hand hovers near mine. Not touching. But close. "And for the record? Someone does want you. I chose to marry you. Not because I had to. I could have let Ethan's divorce stand. Could have looked the other way. But I didn't. I chose you. Because you matter."

The tears come harder now. I can't stop them.

"I'm sorry," I gasp. "I'm ruining dinner, I'm crying all over..."

"You're not ruining anything." Ocean's voice is so gentle it hurts. "Cry if you need to. Scream if you want. Fall apart. Whatever you need. I'm not going anywhere."

So I do. I cry. Ugly, messy, loud crying. All the tears I've held in for years pouring out.

And Ocean stays. Crouched next to my chair. Not touching me but present. Solid. Real.

When the tears finally slow, he hands me his napkin.

"Better?" he asks.

"A little. Embarrassed. But better."

"Don't be embarrassed. You needed that."

I wipe my face. "Some dinner companion I am."

"Best one I've had in years."

That startles a laugh out of me. "Liar."

"I'm serious. Most of my dinners are with men who want something from me. This was..." He searches for the word. "Real. Human. I liked it."

"Even the crying?"

"Especially the crying. Means you trust me enough to fall apart in front of me."

Do I? Trust him?

Looking at him now, crouched beside my chair with genuine concern in his eyes, I realize maybe I do.

Just a little.

"Thank you," I whisper. "For dinner. For listening. For... everything."

"Anytime." He stands. Extends his hand. "Want to finish eating? Or we can call it a night. Whatever you need."

I take his hand. Let him help me up. His palm is warm. Solid.

"Let's finish," I say. "I want to hear more about the tech companies."

His smile is real this time. Full and genuine.

We sit back down. Finish dinner. Talk about normal things. His businesses. My dreams of teaching. Books we've read. Stupid things that don't matter.

And it's the best dinner I've had in years.

Maybe ever.

Because for the first time in so long, I feel like someone is actually seeing me. The real me. Not the broken thing Ethan created. Not the victim. Not the charity case.

Just... me.

And Ocean likes what he sees.

I can tell.

Which should scare me.

But instead, it makes me feel something I haven't felt in forever.

Hope.