The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 362

Chapter 178

By late afternoon, the pale northern sunlight gives way to a deep, bruised twilight, painting the snow-dusted coastline in rich shades of navy and plum.

Evelyn has prepared slow-roasted ham glazed with dark maple and clove, creamy garlic mashed potatoes, buttery roasted root vegetables seasoned with fresh rosemary, and freshly baked sourdough rolls coming out of the oven in golden, steaming batches.

Locke has abandoned his long sleeves for one of his tight black t-shirts that hugs the broad, intimidating expanse of his chest and shoulders.

He handles heavy iron roasting pans without bothering with oven mitts, carves the ham into thick, juicy slices with a massive carving knife, and keeps the living room fireplace fed with thick logs of split birch until the entire ground floor is bathed in a soft, crackling amber glow.

Titan, having thoroughly recovered from his snowy beach patrol earlier in the day, has posted himself on his oversized dog bed near the hearth. His chin rests lazily on his massive paws, but his eyes follow every single movement between the kitchen island and the dining table.

Especially when Locke casually drops a stray piece of crisp, maple-glazed pork skin into his open jaws whenever Evelyn’s back is turned.

“Don’t spoil him before dinner, Rex,” Evelyn calls out from the pantry, emerging with a crystal bowl of spiced cranberry relish. “That dog eats better than I do most days.”

“He earned it,” Locke protests. “He walked for miles in knee-deep snow today and kept guard while you ladies had your tea.”

Titan lets out a low, heavy huff of pure agreement, his thick tail thumping against the heart of the floorboards before he settles back down with a contented sigh.

“Alright, it’s time,” Evelyn announces, setting the final steaming dish of scalloped potatoes onto the table. The center is anchored by a cluster of glowing pillar candles, their flames dancing softly in the subtle, cozy drafts of the old coastal home. “We eat until we collapse.”

Locke pulls out my chair first, his heavy, warm hand resting gently over my shoulder as I sit. “You doing alright, baby? Hungry?”

“Starving,” I admit, turning my head to smile up into his sharp, handsome face. “Everything smells unbelievable. I don’t think I’ve smelled food this good in months.”

He presses a slow, warm kiss to my hair before taking his seat at the head of the table, his eyes sweeping over me with satisfied approval.

Dinner is a joyful, unhurried affair. We pass around generous stoneware platters, filling our plates until they’re piled high. Locke eats with his usual ravenous appetite, carving through third helpings, making sure that I never have anything close to an empty plate.

Evelyn shares stories of Maine winters past, recounting epic blizzards that drifted snow halfway up the ground-floor windows, and power outages that lasted for weeks. She survived all of this entirely on woodstove cooking, mulled cider, and stacks of old paperbacks by candlelight.

Chapter 128

⚫75 Points

As we clear the main course and Evelyn brings out a warm spiced apple pie served with generous scoops of thick clotted cream, the conversation turns relaxed and playful.

“You know, Zara,” Evelyn begins, leaning back in her chair with a glass of red wine and a twinkle of pure mischief in her sharp eyes. “Rex-acts like a tough, brooding lone wolf, but I still remember the first piece of official mail that ever arrived for him at the local post office up here.”

Locke pauses mid-bite, his eyes narrowing slightly over his pie fork as he looks across the candlelit table. “Evie. Don’t.”

“Oh, don’t ‘Evie’ me,” she retorts with a casual wave of her hand. “He was so deliberate about keeping a low profile back then. But when he had to register the property paperwork for my roof and shed repairs after that terrible storm, he had to use his full legal name on the county forms.”

I lean forward, resting my chin in my hands, thoroughly intrigued as a smile tugs at my lips. “His full legal name?”

“You know about ‘Reginald’, of course.”

“I do.”

“Do you know his middle name?”

“I do not.”

“Arthur.”

I blink. “Arthur?”

“Yes.” She nods over at Locke, who looks like he wants to hide under the table. “This hunk of devastating manhood over here is Reginald Arthur Tanner.”

I burst out laughing, the sudden, lighthearted sound echoing off the high timber beams of the ceiling. “Reginald Arthur?”

Locke lets out a low, long-suffering groan, rubbing the back of his broad neck. “My mother had a thing for old English poetry.”

“I think it’s very knightly,” I tease as I reach across the corner of the table to poke his broad, flexed bicep. “Should I start calling you Lord Reginald Arthur?”

“You call me that and I’m carrying you straight out into a snowdrift,” Locke grunts, though the dark heat in his eyes and the deep, rumbling laugh in his chest give him completely away. “There’s only one person who gets away with using anything like my birth name… and she’s pushing her luck tonight.”

“I’ve been pushing my luck with you for years, Reginald Arthur,” Evelyn says smartly, completely unbothered as she takes a sip of her tea. “And I’m still in one piece.”

“Yeah. For now.”

After dessert, we clean the kitchen, then linger around the table for another hour, sharing quiet stories, laughing over Christmases past that we’ve had, and sipping warm herbal tea. When the grandfather clock in the hallway strikes eleven, Evelyn lets out a soft sigh and pushes her chair back from the table.

23

Chapter 19-

+25 Points

“Alright,” she says, wiping her hands on her napkin. “I’m heading upstairs before I fall asleep right here in The pie crust.

Titan immediately stands up from his spot by the hearth, shaking his thick, dense coat out with a loud rattle of his leather collar, ready to perform his final perimeter check of the night.

Evelyn walks over to my side of the table, leaning down to pull me into a long, warm, gentle hug. “Goodnight, Zara. Sleep as late as you want tomorrow. It’s Christmas morning, and you’ve earned every bit of rest.”

“Goodnight, Evelyn. Thank you for everything. It was amazing.”

She swats Locke’s broad shoulder affectionately as she passes his chair. “Don’t leave the fire ungrated when you come up, Rex.”

“Never do,” Locke says, standing up to kiss her cheek with genuine tenderness.

Titan trots alongside Evelyn toward the hallway, pausing at the base of the stairs to look back at us one last time. Locke gives the giant dog a slow, approving nod.

“Guard the hall, big guy. Go on, now.”

Titan lets out a soft huff, satisfied, and pads up the wooden steps right behind Evelyn.

As the sound of their footsteps fades upstairs, a deep, heavy quiet settles over the ground floor.

Locke turns off the overhead kitchen lights, leaving only the deep orange glow of the living room fireplace to illuminate the space. He walks over to the table, taking my hand in his broad palm, and gently pulls me to my feet.

“Come here,” he murmurs softly. “I want to show you something.”

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