8. Maxine
CHAPTER 8
maxine
T he air in the living room was thick with unease. I sat cross-legged on the floor, my back braced against the couch. Brooklyn lounged beside me, flipping through her phone, while Sebastian leaned in the doorway, his arms crossed. David and Ciara stood together near the fireplace, their hands clasped, exuding an almost performative unity.
David cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “Thank you all for coming down. We wanted to share some important news with you.”
I exchanged a glance with Brooklyn, who raised an eyebrow. Important news? The way David said it made my stomach twist.
“As you all know,” Ciara began, her voice measured and smooth, “David and I have grown close over the last year. We’ve found a partnership that… works for us. And we believe it’s time to take the next step.”
I felt my pulse quicken. No. They wouldn’t…
David smiled broadly, his free hand gesturing expansively. “Ciara and I are getting married.”
The room fell into stunned silence. My heart sank, the weight of the announcement crashing over me like a tidal wave. I opened my mouth to speak but found no words. My mother’s engagement to David was the furthest thing from what I had expected—or wanted.
Brooklyn was the first to break the silence, letting out a low whistle. “Well, that’s… big news.” Her tone was light, but her eyes darted between me and Sebastian, gauging our reactions.
Sebastian’s expression remained stoic, but his jaw tightened. “When did this happen?” he asked, his voice calm but edged with tension.
“David proposed last week,” Ciara said, her lips curving into a practiced smile. “We wanted to wait for the right moment to tell you all.”
My hands were balled into fists. “The right moment?” I blurted out, my voice trembling. “Dad’s funeral was barely a year ago. And now you’re marrying someone else?”
Ciara’s smile faltered, her eyes narrowing. “Maxine, I know this is hard for you, but life doesn’t stop. Your father would want us to move forward.”
“Don’t pretend to know what Dad would want,” I shot back, my voice rising. “He’s barely cold in the ground, and you’ve already replaced him.”
David stepped in, his tone measured but firm. “Maxine, I understand this is a lot to take in. But this isn’t about replacing anyone. It’s about building a future together.”
I scoffed, standing abruptly. “A future? With you? You were my dad’s best friend and now you're marrying his widow. You can’t just step in and expect everything to fall into place.”
Brooklyn put a hand on my arm, her expression a mix of concern and caution. “Max, maybe we should all just take a breath.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I can’t do this. Not right now.” I turned and walked quickly out of the room, my footsteps echoing down the hall.
The cool evening air had wrapped around me as I gripped the rough wooden railing, trying to muffle my sobs. Each breath brought the sweet, familiar scent of hay and wildflowers, but even those comforting smells from the fields couldn't ease the ache in my chest. I heard his footsteps before I sensed his presence – the soft crunch of gravel growing closer, hesitant but steady.
I didn't turn around. Couldn't. My shoulders betrayed me with their trembling, and I pressed my lips together, willing myself to stop crying. The last thing I wanted was for him to see me like this, broken and vulnerable against the backdrop of a perfect summer evening. But there he was, and there I was, and all my carefully constructed walls were crumbling like sandcastles at high tide. “Max,” he said gently, stepping beside me and pulling me into his arms.
I wiped my eyes but didn’t look at him. “How can she do this? How can she act like Dad didn’t matter?”
Sebastian sighed, resting his head on top of mine. “I don’t think it’s that simple. People grieve in their own ways.”
“This isn’t grief,” I snapped, my voice raw. “It’s betrayal.”
He was silent for a moment, then said, “I’m not saying it’s right. But maybe it’s how she’s trying to cope. Some people move forward because staying still hurts too much.”
I looked up at him, my eyes red and filled with pain. “What about me? I’m not ready to move on. I… I still need him.”
Sebastian reached out, brushing a tear from my cheek. “You’re allowed to feel that way. And you’re not alone in this. I’m here, Max. Always.”
My lip trembled, and I leaned into him, letting his arms wrap around me, inhaling his scent. For a moment, the weight of the world lifted, and I let myself be held.
“Thank you, Sebastian,” I whispered.
“Always,” he replied, his voice steady and sure.