21. Maeve
Chapter 21
Maeve
I deally, I wouldn’t have seen Jaime for another couple of days, giving the swelling time to go down so I could hide the severity of my black eye with makeup. But, of course, Callum’s stupid ass had to call him to make sure he came back early—God forbid I spend even a second at this house alone.
I’m surprised Callum even went to that deli by himself, although he made it back in record time. I guess he was really trying to grovel, getting me my favorite soup and salad. Besides, he knew I couldn’t go far without a car and—to his knowledge—a license.
It’s not that I’d have lied to Jaime, or even downplayed what happened, but it’s demeaning enough as it is without the visual proof. There is something so humiliating about looking like this, knowing that my own boyfriend did it to me.
Sure enough, Callum is an overly solicitous pain in the ass when he gets back from his errand. He finds me in the kitchen, thumbing through my recipe book while nursing a beer. Jaime rises from the couch in the living room, where he went to sit when we heard Callum pull up.
“Call me if you need me,” he says, letting himself out the back door.
Callum watches him go, rubbing the nape of his neck. “So, I uh, got you those cookies you like,” he says, resting a box on the counter .
“Thanks,” I murmur, my eyes never leaving my notebook.
“Yelena’s scheduled for Monday, but I’m thinking we should have her come tomorrow?—”
“No, don’t,” I say. “Let her enjoy the weekend. I don’t want anyone else seeing me like this.”
“Right, yeah,” he mumbles. “Yeah. Um, you want any more of this soup? I think I’m gonna have some.” He rambles on and on, the way he does when he’s anxious. Being a little king means he rarely ever shows regret, but I guess not even Callum is immune to something like this. Not yet anyway. It’s been easy for him to overlook my gradual retreat, the one that’s been stretching over months, but it’s impossible to ignore my face and the pain he knows he caused. He’s trying, though, as if by talking nonstop he can distract himself and maybe me.
Eventually I drag my gaze up to him. He flits around the kitchen, grabbing spoons and napkins and looking around like he doesn't know what the hell he’s doing. Of course: he’s high.
“I'm fine, Callum.”
He looks at me, nodding quickly. “Okay.”
He’s silent for a minute, and I think he’s going to leave, but then he comes over to me and touches my arm. It takes everything in me not to shrink away.
“Maeve, I love you more than life. Shit’s been ill lately, and I know it’s probably my fault, but I want you to know I’m sorry. I feel rotten about last night. I know how bad I messed up. I know it.”
I can’t speak past the lump in my throat, so I just nod, staring at his shirt.
“Please don’t leave me,” he says, gently taking my hand. He pulls the engagement ring from his pocket, holding it between us. I left it on the dresser earlier, not wanting a physical reminder of last night or what a clusterfuck my life has become. “Please.”
I have nothing to say to that, so I don’t say anything at all as he slides the ring back onto my limp finger.
“Baby, please look at me.” I do. His face is deeply earnest, like he really believes what he’s saying right now. His eyes are watery, but that’s the coke as much as it is his remorse. “Can you ever forgive me?”
“Fine. ”
Taking a deep breath, he exhales slowly, rubbing his hand over his head. “You sure?”
“Give me time, Callum. And give me a little space, okay? You really hurt me this time.”
“I know.” A tear runs down his cheek as he stares at me. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“Not just here," I interrupt, pointing to my face, “but here.” I touch my chest, my heart. “So just give me time.”
“Okay,” he whispers hoarsely, fingering the smaller ring I’ve worn for most of our relationship. The one he gave me when we were kids. “We said forever, right?”
Slowly, he wraps himself around me, and I allow it, letting myself continue the lie. He sniffles and rubs my back, promising and whispering until it’s just a hushed, distorted warble that I hardly even hear.
In the corner of the kitchen, nestled high above the cabinets, sits a small camera. I stare into its red, glowing eye, watching it as it watches me.
Late Sunday morning, I watch Callum trudge around as he gets ready to drive back to San Anselmo with Griff, who flew in late last night. He seems reluctant to go, despite the fact he’s been looking forward to this meeting for a while. Each year, the heads of several local families get together to discuss what’s going on in their criminal network. Problems are discussed, plans are made.
“You sure you don’t want to come?” he asks.
“No, thanks,” I say, taking a sip of coffee. “I think I’m going to go to Mass. It’s been a while.”
I used to go to Mass pretty regularly when I first moved to Oakland. It brought me a measure of peace, reminding me of home. Callum never went with me, despite being raised Catholic. He finds my faith na?ve.
“Sounds good. Mac’s coming back later,” he says, pushing his hair from his face. “Don’t be surprised if he shows up before I do.”
He hasn’t been gone ten minutes when my phone rings with a FaceTime call. I pull my phone toward me to see who it is, alarmed when Lucky’s name comes up. Not wanting him to see me like this, I let it ring until it finally stops. A message comes through a second later.
Where you at?
Panicking, I put my phone face down as if that’ll stop further attempts at contact. If I reply, he might try again. And why is he FaceTiming me, anyway? Why can’t he just call? When Bria tries next, I ignore her and go to the bathroom to look at my face. The swelling has gone down, but the area around my eye is still mottled with a grotesque greenish yellow. Biting my lip, I pull out my makeup. Bria might let me put her off, but there’s only so long I can avoid Lucky.
When I’m satisfied that I look somewhat normal, I pull the shades in the living room, darkening it a little, and text back.
Hey, what’s up?
Everything ok?
Sure enough, another FaceTime rings through right away. Taking a deep breath, I answer it. The call connects, and Lucky, Bria, and Liam all pop up on my screen, their faces squished together. “Hiiii!” they all say, talking over one another.
“Hey, guys!” I laugh, glancing at my face in the smaller window at the bottom. I look okay, I think. “This is a nice surprise!”
“We wanted you to be the first to hear the good news,” Bria says slowly, her cheeks flushed with happiness as she grins at me.
I gasp because I already know what they’re about to tell me. “Oh my God!”
Lucky holds up a sonogram right as Liam screeches, “I’m gonna have a brother!”
“Or a sister,” Lucky says, his giddy smile rivaling Bria’s.
“I can’t believe it,” I cry, and then I’m actually crying, dabbing delicately at my eyes. “I’m so happy for you guys! Aw, I can’t wait to come home!”
“That’ll be soon, right?” Bria asks, her warm eyes searching mine through the screen.
“As soon as I can,” I choke out .
Lucky’s smile never falters, but his eyes narrow a little. “You good, Mae?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m great,” I assure him, nodding. Damn him for knowing me almost as well as I know myself. “I know B tells you everything, so I know she told you I’m moving back home as soon as I get my stuff in order.”
“You’re coming back?” Liam asks, his eyes wide. “Forever?”
“I sure am,” I tell him, buoyed by the thought.
“Hold on,” Lucky says as Liam cheers, and the phone screen goes dark as he puts it down. When he lifts it again, Bria and Liam are gone and it’s just him. “What’s going on?” he asks quietly.
“Nothing,” I say quickly. “I mean, well. I don’t want to get into it over the phone, but … things aren’t working out with Callum. I’m sure that makes you happy, huh?” A soft, bitter laugh tumbles out before I can rein it in.
“Anything I need to know about?” he asks lightly, but I know him. I recognize that sharp look in his eyes, the one that doesn’t miss a thing.
I need to get off this call. “Nah. I’ll tell you guys everything when I get back, but it’s all good for now. Anyway, I’m over the moon happy for you, Lucky! I can’t wait to get back and celebrate! Am I really the first to know? Even before Mom and Dad?”
“We’re calling them next,” he says. “What happened to your eye, Mae?”
My heart gives a violent lurch. Damn it . “I had a nasty fall during dance, clipped the barre. It’s kind of embarrassing, but it’s healing.”
He looks at me for a long time, his face expressionless.
“Lucky, it’s fine,” I say with a laugh. “I’ll?—”
“If I find out you’re lying to me, I’ll cut Callum’s fucking hands off and stuff them down his fucking throat.”
“I’m not lying, and you’re overreacting,” I say with a casual calm I do not feel. “Okay?”
“When are you coming home?” he presses, undeterred.
“Soon,” I promise, desperate to get off the phone.
“Do we need to come and get you?” he asks. “Tristan?—"
“Lucky, I love you, but come on.” I shake my head. “I’ll be home by next week. Listen, I’m going to be late for Mass. I’ll let you know once I’ve made my reservation, okay?” ”
We say our goodbyes and disconnect. I drop my face into my hands. Of course he isn’t buying my lies. He knows something’s up.
Because Callum was right about one thing—Lucky’s never liked him. Had he and my family known that the De Leons were another crime family, they’d have been even more resistant to me moving here. Knowing Lucky, he’d have had people keeping an eye on me and I just couldn’t stomach that.
A lot has happened since then and now I’m as grateful for my brother’s protectiveness as I am afraid of it. But I’m protective, too, and I’ll be damned if I’m the reason something happens to Lucky or Tristan.
I’m still shaken by the call when Jaime and I pull up to Saint Ambrose.
“Can you blame him?” Jaime asks. He’s been quiet for most of the drive, listening to me stress over Lucky’s words.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “But you don’t know Lucky. You don’t know what he’s capable of.”
“I don’t have to know him,” he says, turning off the car. “He sounds like the kind of guy who does what needs to be done. Honestly, I’m surprised none of them has been out here yet. I know who your family is.”
Of course, he does. Jaime strikes me as the kind of person who does his due diligence.
“You can blame me for that,” I say, fiddling with my seat belt. “We argued a lot about me moving to California, so by the time I got out here I was pissed off and petty and determined to prove them all wrong. Which sounds ridiculous now, but at the time I couldn’t imagine life without Callum and if they were going to keep giving me grief about it, I wanted to distance myself. Bria and I never lost touch, but things were rough with everyone else for a while.”
“What changed?”
“I got over myself, I guess. I missed them,” I admit. “And they missed me. But they still don’t like Callum, and he doesn’t like them, so it’s easier for me to go to them than it is for them to come here.”
Hearing myself explain this only shoves the dagger deeper. The enmity between Callum and my family should have been a red flag, but I was so anxious to make it work, to see all those years of ups and downs pay off, that I ignored it.
“At least, it was easier,” I amend. “Callum’s weird about it now.”
“Because he wants to control you,” he says. “And he can’t do that if you’re across the country.”
“You must think I’m really dumb.”
“I think you’re in a shit situation that isn’t as rare as you believe,” he says carefully. “Anyway, I still find it strange that no one in your family followed up. The De Leons are no joke.”
“Well, I doubt they know what the De Leons are into. They only know Callum’s dad, who’s a dick, but straight-laced, and his side of the family back in New York. They come from old money, not a drug empire.”
I look up at Jaime. “You have to remember that I’ve been with Callum for over a decade. It’s not like Lucky or my dad has to vet some new guy I’m seeing. They know Callum, and while they don’t approve, they don’t know what he’s actually capable of. And I’m good at pretending everything is fine.”
“Not that good, if your brother saw through your bullshit today.”
“The black eye didn’t help.” Sighing, I unbuckle my seat belt. To my surprise, Jaime unbuckles his too. “Are you coming in with me?”
He nods. “I could use a little peace.”
We walk across the parking lot and up the steps toward the church’s heavy, wooden doors. The brisk November air cools my cheeks as I glance sideways at Jaime. It never occurred to me that he’d be interested in attending Mass, or that sharing something like this would be so deeply comforting. It’s like connecting on a different level.
Jaime pauses at the font of holy water near the entrance, dipping his fingers and crossing himself. I follow suit, sitting beside him in a vacant pew in the back. We’re a little late, so the priest has already begun, but just being here is a balm to my frayed nerves. The air smells faintly of incense, and sunlight filters through the stained-glass windows, coloring parts of the floor.
Gradually, my mind begins to clear, a sense of calm replacing my anxiety. When the service begins to wrap up, I stand up, pulling my scarf around my neck. But Jaime’s eyes are closed, his lips moving in silent prayer, so I sit again, not wanting to rush him. I’m glad we came here together, but my heart hurts knowing this will probably be the only time.
Afterward, Jaime turns to me in the car. “Callum asked me to bring you to the spa. For a massage. Said you needed something nice.”
“Because a massage makes up for everything else,” I mumble, rolling my eyes.
“Do you want to go?” he asks. “I hear there’s a nice one at the Claremont Hotel.”
“Not really.” I pull at one of the strings on my scarf. As nice as a massage sounds, knowing that it’s part of Callum’s shitty attempts to apologize sullies it. Besides, my face is still messed up, regardless of how much makeup I cake on. If Lucky noticed, everyone will. I don’t need the people at the spa pitying me, maybe even thinking Jaime’s the one who hurt me.
“You wanna go back home, then?” He glances at my black silk blouse, jeans, and heeled boots. “You’re not exactly dressed for hiking.”
“I wish we could go somewhere to be alone,” I blurt. “I just want to hang out for a while, pretend like …” Pretend like we’re together .
He stares at the windshield, drumming his fingers slowly over the steering wheel. “I know a place.”