14. Maeve
Chapter 14
Maeve
C onfused, I pat my pockets and search my wallet one more time. My driver’s license, which is always in the exact same pocket of my wallet, is missing. Maybe it fell out and dropped into my bag?
I give the waiting cashier an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I must’ve misplaced it. You can just take the wine and the beer out?—”
“I got it,” Jaime says, flashing his driver’s license.
Nodding, the cashier finishes ringing me up. “Have a nice day.” She gives me a perfunctory smile before turning to the next person in line.
“That’s so weird,” I tell Jaime as we grab the grocery bags and leave the store. “I hope I didn’t lose it. Going to the DMV for a new one is such a pain in the ass.”
“When was the last time you used it?” he asks, using his key fob to pop the Audi’s trunk.
“It must’ve been the last time I bought wine,” I muse, racking my brain for when that was. Yelena does most of the big shopping, always making sure to keep the liquor cabinet stocked, but I buy stuff occasionally.
I search my ballet bag as Jaime pulls out of the parking lot, eventually dumping it out onto the floor between my feet, but my license isn’t there. I’ll have to check my purse at home .
When we get to the house, Mac’s car is parked in the driveway which means Callum’s back, too. I breathe through the sinking feeling in my stomach and follow Jaime inside. Guilt and anxiety twine around my heart like poisonous vines, threatening to choke out how beautiful our moment in the woods was.
But to my relief, Mac’s alone when we walk into the house, messing with his phone on the couch. Jaime leaves the grocery bags on the island in the kitchen, nodding at him. “How’d it go?”
“Good, I guess.” Mac gets up and comes over, frowning as he leans against the counter.
“Everything went according to plan, but I don’t know, man. Something feels off.”
I stiffen, surprised he’d say this in front of me.
“Why, what’s up?” asks Jaime.
“Mato and Zeke were there. They never come around, not unless someone needs a little … extra encouragement. You know.” Mac trails off, his eyes flickering briefly my way.
Mato and Zeke are two of Uncle Dario’s right-hand men. They usually stick close to Dario’s family in Marin, serving as muscle.
Jaime reaches into the fridge, taking out a couple of beers. “Did they say anything?”
“Nah, and Callum said it was just business as usual. Extra backup, just in case.” Mac accepts one of the beers. “You get feelings, though, right?” They wander into the living room, continuing the conversation in low tones I can’t hear.
A shiver runs up my spine. Mac’s no angel, so it’s saying something if he was weirded out by Mato and Zeke’s presence on the job they just did. Who knows, maybe they were keeping an eye on Callum. Maybe Dario’s been second-guessing his decision to give his nephew so much leeway, after all.
I don’t know much about how the De Leon family runs things, but I know what I saw growing up. My father kept Saoirse separate from family life. We had social gatherings with the other four families, and my parents’ inner circle was often around, but there were never strangers in our home. Lucky operates the same way.
But Callum brings people over all the time like it’s no big deal. A lot of them are just here to party, but still, how well does he know them? How much can he trust them? Can’t be much if he always locks his office door. Sometimes he even locks our bedroom.
Even worse is when he does business from the house. Home is supposed to be a safe haven, but there are no boundaries here—he literally shot at someone the other day, for God’s sake. It feels sloppy, all of it. Maybe Uncle Dario’s doing a little quality control.
Of course, this is all speculation. I’m just the clueless girlfriend, after all, counting the days until I can leave.
In an effort to distract myself from guilty thoughts of making out with Jaime, I pour myself a generous glass of cabernet, grab my neglected recipe binder, and throw myself into making shepherd’s pie. Callum’s favorite. Our relationship might be in shambles, but I’ve never been a cheater and I can’t help but feel a way.
Although I can’t say the same for him. I don’t know when he started being unfaithful, but I know it happens. Add in the constant absences, the lies and lack of communication, the ragey tantrums and the threats, and it’s obvious that our relationship has deteriorated beyond the point of saving. Obvious to me, anyway. Callum might be deluding himself that I’ll stick around like always, but I’ve had one foot out the door for a while now.
I know I’d have left him regardless, with or without Jaime. But meeting Jaime has changed things. He’s become my closest friend here, my ally. What started as a shallow crush, one I tried to resist, has deepened into something undeniably real. When he kissed me today, it stirred something I haven’t felt in years—and it wasn’t just the excitement of something new. It was him.
I’m sliding the second dish of shepherd’s pie into the oven when Callum comes home with Griff. My stomach tightens, guilt and nerves tying it into knots, and I take a long sip of wine. I remind myself, when Callum breezes into the kitchen with cheek kisses and ass squeezes, that if we were still in love, no amount of physical attraction to someone else would be enough to make me stray.
“Smells great,” he says, grinning as he glances at the oven. His eyes are red, and he smells like blunts, but I prefer that to the harder stuff .
“Thanks. It’s Grandma Flora’s shepherd’s pie,” I say, pointing to the slender, graceful slope of Callum’s late grandmother’s script. We only met a few times over the years, but she was a sweet woman who loved asking Callum when he was going to marry me. The fact that he still hasn’t asked would probably break her heart, but not as much as what he’s turned into these days.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” he crows, squeezing my ass yet again.
I smack his hand away as the front door opens and the foyer erupts with a cacophony of voices. Irritation prickles through me. I’m so tired of the nonstop parade of randoms coming through this house. Callum always says he bought this place for me, but that’s bullshit. He bought it for himself.
“You fools are in for a treat. No one cooks like my girl,” Callum crows loudly, swaggering out of the kitchen with a six pack of Coke from the fridge. “Maeve, we still have that rum, right? The stuff we brought back from the Bahamas last summer?”
“Check the liquor cabinet,” I call, but he’s already gone.
Before long, music, chatter, and smoke drift from the living room. I serve the shepherd’s pie in the dining room when it’s ready, and though I’m tempted to lock myself in the bedroom and let everyone else do what they want, I force myself to sit down and be social. One girl, a blonde with a sharp bob that reminds me of Delphine’s hair in high school, is sweet, but her friends seem catty and conniving, laughing too loud and flirting with everyone.
Still, I remain the gracious hostess, wondering which of them, if any, Callum’s had. It’s an unspoken thing that most of the men in the De Leon family have women on the side. Maybe his next girlfriend will be cool with it.
I’m expecting things to settle down once dinner is over, but a new wave of people shows up. Callum turns on the patio heaters and everyone crowds around the pool, the music so loud I’m worried some neighbor will call the cops.
“Dinner was so good, baby,” Callum says, cornering me in the kitchen while I’m cleaning up. “I love it when you cook like that. Reminds me of old times.”
“Glad you liked it. ”
“I loved it. Everybody did.” He drops kisses all over my neck, and I shiver in all the wrong ways. His affection is unwelcome, what we have tainted, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep him at bay. Callum’s always had a crazy libido, and the coke makes it worse. Maybe that’s why he cheats.
“Good.” Dropping a kiss on his cheek, I bend to load the dishwasher.
But Callum stops me, tugging me to him. “You can do this later. Come chill.”
“I’d really rather?—”
“Nah, come on. You never want to hang out anymore,” he says, a glimmer of the old Callum shining through his stoned eyes. “You’re my girl.”
“I know, Cal. It’s just.” I pause, glancing at the window over the sink. Outside, a girl I’ve never seen is letting a guy I’ve never seen snort something off her boobs. “It’s not really my scene.”
“You used to love it,” he says, linking our fingers.
“Yeah, maybe,” I say, biting my lip. “But this is our home, and I don’t know these people.”
“All right, all right, this is the last time. Okay?” He grins impishly, squeezing my fingers. “Promise.”
I nod, knowing it won’t be the last time. But that’s okay, because I’ll be gone. He returns to his guests while I finish up in the kitchen, wiping down the counters and starting the dishwasher. Turning off the light, I take one last look out the window. Callum’s right. Years ago, I loved this kind of thing. It was fun. I would’ve been at his side or on his lap, knowing it was where I belonged.
My heart stops when I find Jaime in the crowd. He’s on the other side of the pool, close to his guest house, a beer bottle dangling from his fingertips. I can’t see the girl he’s talking to too well, but she’s got dark hair and a great body and they’re chatting like they know each other. It’s the way they lean into each other, the ease and openness in Jaime’s stance.
I watch them for a long time, my heart aching. Jaime really is beautiful. Magnetic, even, which is interesting because he’s so quiet. But women are drawn to him anyway—I know I am. I rub my chest, wishing I was the one talking to him, making him smile like that. But I’m not, and maybe I’ll never be. So what if we kissed? So what if it feels like he gets me? He owes me nothing.
Because at the end of the day, I have no right to Jaime when I still belong to someone else. Why shouldn’t he enjoy himself? All of Callum’s guys do. Why would he be any different?
My throat closes as a hot tear rolls down my cheek. I wipe viciously at it, disgusted with myself. Get a fucking grip, Maeve . I don’t want to be this woman, living and dying on the whims of men. I’m tired of it, tired of my own damn self.
Kissing Jaime meant something to me, but that’s not the point. The point is to behave as if nothing has changed. The point is to finesse this situation long enough to make a clean getaway. I can’t allow myself to get distracted from that. Leaving the window, I walk down the hall and into our bedroom, locking the door. Callum has a key. He can get in if he needs to.
When he collapses into bed later on, I pretend to be asleep. He whispers my name, and I feel his fingertips dance across my arm. “You up, Mae?”
He rolls away and I swallow, glad that I’m off the hook for tonight. We’ve always had an active sex life and turning him down repeatedly is going to require creativity. But a moment later he’s beneath the sheets, sucking my neck as he grinds his dick against my ass. “C’mere baby,” he whispers, pulling my panties down.
I wiggle away, tired of feeling like an object he can stick his dick in when he wants. “Come on, Callum. I’m not in the mood.”
“Then get in the mood,” he laughs, his hand working between my thighs now. I can tell by his voice that he’s drunk and high off who knows what, the version of him I trust the least. He’s hard to deal with when he’s like this. “I miss this pussy.”
I roll awkwardly over to face him beneath the blankets, my ankles caught in my underwear, and draw my legs in. “I really don’t want to tonight, okay?”
“You say that every night, but we used to fuck every day,” he says. “It’s been weeks. I miss you.”
Yeah, it’s been weeks because he’s been having his needs met elsewhere. “I don’t feel good. ”
He scoffs, wrestling my underwear off and rolling on top of me. “Why, you pregnant or something?”
My heart starts to pound. “I’m just tired.”
“Then I’ll fuck you back to sleep,” he says, kissing me. “I miss you, baby.”
I turn my face, but he tugs it back, pressing his thumb between my lips so he can shove his tongue into my mouth. He’s like an octopus, his hands everywhere as he wedges himself between my thighs. I go still, my throat aching as I try not to cry. “Don’t,” I whisper. “Please don’t.”
But he does.
“You sure you don’t wanna come?” Callum asks, folding clothes into a travel bag. “I already got you a ticket and everything.”
But I’m sore and pissed off, and he knows it. And tired. I couldn’t sleep after what happened between us last night. It’s something I’m still trying to wrap my head around. “I’m not going.”
Callum lifts his chin. “You never want to chill anymore. You don’t wanna hang out. You don’t wanna fuck. What’s the deal with you?”
“What’s my deal?” I huff softly. “I should be asking you that.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. We can’t keep doing this.”
“Keep doing what?” He tosses an impatient glance my way. “Just say it.”
“This! Us! It isn’t working anymore.” The words are out before I can stop them, but I don’t regret them.
He rolls his eyes. “Then make it work.”
“I’ve tried, but it takes two,” I shoot back. “I’m going?—”
“You’re not leaving,” he says, calmly zipping his bag. “Unless you’re leaving with me.”
“Cal—”
“Pack your shit so we can get going.”
“I can’t fly. I lost my driver’s license,” I blurt, remembering.
He shrugs. “So, we’ll use your passport. ”
That’s right—my passport . I can use that if I need to get out of here quickly. But not today.
“Maeve.”
The low, steady tide of panic that’s been tugging at me since last night rises. “I’m not going to Las Vegas. Not after what you did last night.”
This seems to give him pause. He slows, dropping another shirt into his bag. But when he looks at me, all he says is “You really want me to go by myself?”
“You won’t be by yourself.” I look back at him, really look. I want him to see me when I say this. “You’re never by yourself. You think I don’t know what you do when you’re gone, Callum?”
He watches me hard, his eyes glinting, before he shrugs. Guess he doesn’t want to get into it because he knows I’m right. “Fine, stay here then.”
“I will. And unlike you, I do want to be alone,” I say. “Let Jaime go with you guys. He needs some time off.”
“Don’t worry about Jaime, all right? He knows what his job is. He’s gonna stay right the fuck here to make sure you stay here.”
Which is what I wanted. Checkmate, asshole. “Fine.”
“Why, does he make you uncomfortable or something?” Callum arches an eyebrow, and I know he’s thinking of the first bodyguard I had, a total creep who only lasted a week.
“He’s not the problem.” I frown, looking down. “We barely talk.”
“Well, I didn’t hire him to be your bestie,” he snarks. “I hired him to keep you safe.”
“You hired him to watch me for you,” I correct him.
“Same thing.” He snatches a bundle of cash from beneath the bed and drops it into his bag. “I’ll be back in a couple of days. There’s money in that box in the closet, go get your nails done or something.”
That’s how I know he feels guilty about last night. He won’t acknowledge what he did. He’ll just try to smooth things over with gifts.
“I’ll text you when I land.” He leans in to kiss me but I turn my head, and his lips graze my cheek instead. Something flashes in his eyes. Anger? Hurt? It’s hard to tell, but when he goes still, fear crawls up my spine. I realize it’s become a normal reaction, and that turns my stomach. When did the guy I love turn into someone I’m afraid of ?
After a minute, Callum straightens up and stalks out of the bedroom. The front door slams shut, and then it’s silent, the kind of silent that makes my ears ring. I sink down onto the edge of the bed, burying my face in my hands, and the ache in my throat dissolves into tears. Last night plays over and over in my mind like a broken record. His rough hands, his insistent mouth, the way he ignored my pleas to stop. I feel sick. How could he do this to me?
I look up as Jaime’s footsteps start down the hall. What is he doing? He has no business being this close to the bedroom—doesn’t he worry about stuff like that? There are a million cameras all over this house, tracking every little thing that goes down.
I stiffen as he appears in the doorway, making myself meet his eye.
A wrinkle appears between his brows as he notices my expression. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’ll be right out.”
His gaze sweeps over the rumpled sheets, but he steps back and closes the door, leaving me alone again. I wash my hair and shave in the shower, scrubbing myself clean. Opting for comfort, I pull on an oversized, black cashmere sweater that hangs off my shoulder and fleece leggings. By the time I join Jaime in the kitchen, my ballet class has already started.
He glances up from his newspaper, taking in my outfit. “No ballet today, I take it.”
I shake my head, tucking my phone and keys into my bag.
“What’s going on?”
“Can we go someplace else for coffee?” I respond, desperate to get out of the house that feels more like a prison every day. “I don’t want to be here right now.”
He slides impassively from the barstool, following me out the front door. It’s a chilly, gray day, a few sooty clouds smudging the horizon like someone handled the pale sky with dirty hands.
I pause, looking at Jaime over the roof of his car. “Did you sleep with her?”
He lifts his eyes. “What?”
“That girl last night, with the dark hair and the red shirt,” I say. “Seemed like you knew her. ”
Dropping his gaze, he opens the door and gets into the car. It’s all the answer I need.
I stand still for a moment, my hand on the door, trying to collect myself. Here I am, Callum’s whore, wanting another man I can’t have. Sometimes I don’t recognize who I’ve become.
When I get into the car, Jaime’s got the heat going. “You should’ve dried your hair,” he says. “It’s cold out.”
I stare unseeingly at the windshield, my eyes blurring. He fusses over my hair, over me being warm, but what about my heart?
When I don’t respond, he sighs. “Listen, Cal mentioned something about you getting your nails done. Do you have a spot you like?”
“I’m not getting my fucking nails done,” I whisper.
“All right,” Jaime murmurs, starting the car. The engine thrums to life, padding the silence between us. “Just coffee, then.”
We begin our descent, flying by the familiar landscape of trees and half-hidden houses, hairpin curves and the hills’ rocky face. The bleakness outside seems to echo the tumult inside me. My phone vibrates with a text from my mom, asking about a book we talked about recently. I type a response, missing her so much my heart hurts. I thought I could last until Christmas, but after last night that’s too far off.
It took last night to make me see that Callum is capable of anything.
“She’s just a girl I’ve met a couple times,” Jaime begins, gripping the steering wheel tighter before loosening up. I’ve spent enough time with him in the car to know that’s where he carries his stress: in his hands. His facial expression might be neutral, his tone measured, but his hands always tell me when he cares more than he lets on. “I wouldn’t say I really know her.”
“What’s her name?”
“Raya.”
“Pretty.”
“It didn’t mean anything, okay?” he says, blowing out a harsh breath. “We didn’t fuck.”
But I can hear what he’s not saying. “But you wanted to.”
His jaw is set in a tense line and for a moment, I catch a glimpse of vulnerability in those big, brown eyes. “She sucked my dick, and I let her because I like the way she does it. I can’t have you, so what does it matter? ”
My stomach curdles. I turn toward the window, resting my forehead against the cool glass. “You really have a way with words, Jaime. You know how to hit where it hurts.”
“I don’t know what you want from me, Maeve,” he says gruffly. “We’re not together.”
“Oh, trust me, I know.” I give a serrated laugh, feeling like I’m on the brink of hysteria. “I’m with Callum and no one knows that better than me.”