Chapter 30
MADDOX
Three Months Later
The beach house was stunning, all weathered wood and white furnishings.
Callie had rented it for the long weekend, a final getaway before the summer ended.
Through the master bedroom’s wall of windows, the ocean stretched endlessly toward the horizon, but I kept my focus on my task.
She would be here soon, and everything had to be flawless.
I fluffed the pillows once more and gave them a spritz of her favorite lavender pillow spray, and stepped back to assess my work. I was pleased to find the bedroom now met my standards for Callie.
On to the flowers.
I’d assembled vases of fresh peonies and dahlias on the kitchen counter, and now I moved through the house placing them in every room.
Another thing I’d learned this summer were her favorite flowers, and which colors made her smile.
Information I should have gathered years ago, when it would have truly meant something.
Funny how much satisfaction I found in this now. In the beginning, every task she assigned me had felt degrading. Making her meals, cleaning the kitchen, being forced to stand and wait… I had seethed through so much of it.
But somewhere along the way, the resentment had burned itself out, and something else had taken its place.
I loved her. More than I ever had during our marriage, when I’d been too stupid and selfish to recognize what I had.
Every day this summer, watching her grow stronger and more confident, I’d fallen deeper.
I loved the way she laughed now, unguarded and full.
The authority in her voice when she gave instructions was inspiring.
It was awesome to watch the confident way she now moved through the world, like she finally believed she belonged in it.
Seeing her with other men remained a torture.
That part hadn’t gotten easier. Mercifully, she had lost interest in forcing me to directly watch any encounters with her revolving stable of lovers, so that was something.
But every time she came back from meeting one of these guys, every time I heard her with someone through the walls, it carved another piece out of me.
Of course, I couldn’t deny that the pain I was feeling was just and earned. This was nothing compared to what I’d put her through.
So I endured it. I served her. I tried to become someone worthy of the forgiveness I knew I might never receive.
It gave me some tiny sliver of hope that she hadn’t yet become emotionally involved with anyone. No boyfriends so far, only flings.
I checked the pantry next, confirming it had an ample supply of her favorite snacks. And then on to the wine fridge, to confirm her preferred sauvignon blanc was chilling at precisely the right temperature.
The details mattered. They were all I had to offer her now.
Dr. DeMille would be proud of that thought.
Possibly the most harrowing moments of my summer had been sitting in her calm, beige office, every Monday and Thursday lunch hour, unpacking the wreckage of my terrible decisions.
We’d gone back to childhood, to my father’s rage and my mother’s absence, to the coping mechanisms I’d developed that had curdled into something toxic.
I’d learned words for what was wrong with me: avoidant attachment, narcissistic defenses, compartmentalization.
The work was challenging and slow. Dr. DeMille never pushed too hard or let me off too easy. She just kept asking questions that forced me to look at myself honestly, perhaps for the first time in my life.
I had expected therapy to make me feel even more emasculated than I already did.
But the opposite was true. What had been emasculating was giving in to my demons and becoming such a fucking asshole in the first place.
I had been a spineless coward, hiding from my issues instead of dealing with them.
If I’d truly been a man before, I would have had the strength to face all of this, long before my hand was forced.
I had been certain that sitting on some therapist’s couch talking about my feelings would feel self-indulgent and absurd.
Instead, it proved to be as intense as the most challenging workouts.
Every session left me drained and sore in a different way, like I’d pushed myself past failure on every set.
As hard as it was, it was clearly essential to confront how I’d become a man so selfish and hollow, someone who had taken an incredible woman’s love and treated it like it was nothing.
Someone who had always prioritized his own gratification over everyone else, and who had justified cruelty by saying it was just what guys did.
That man disgusted me.
I didn’t want to be him anymore. That was the thing Dr. DeMille had helped me understand. I had to do this work whether Callie ever forgave me or not. Whether the curse was ever lifted or not. Because living as that man, even if I’d gotten away with it forever, was no life at all.
The curse barely crossed my mind these days, which would have seemed inconceivable in those first weeks, when the crushing shame of it had been all I could think about.
But that felt like another lifetime now.
What I wanted wasn’t access to other women.
All I wanted was Callie, and true reconciliation, with a real chance to show her who I was becoming.
Even if it took years. Even if I had to earn it one perfectly made bed and one carefully arranged flower vase at a time.
How long could this go on? Every time I asked myself that question, my answer was clear: I’d continue as long as she’d let me.
I would stay in the basement. I would cook her meals and clean her house and watch her find happiness with other men. Whatever proximity to her she would grant, I’d take. Just being near her might have to be enough.
I finished my final walkthrough, confirming every detail was in place. The house gleamed. Everything was just as it should be.
Only then did I glance out the window and notice her car in the driveway!
Fuck! How had I missed her arriving? I’d wanted to greet her at the door, take her bags, and welcome her properly. Instead, I’d been so laser-focused on my prep work I hadn’t heard her drive up, and had missed a key moment.
Roaming the house, I found her on the deck, and the sight of her stopped me in the doorway.
She stood at the railing, gazing out at the water.
The setting sun painted her in shades of gold.
Her white sundress moved with the ocean breeze, the fabric clinging against her gorgeous figure before flowing free again.
Her hair was longer than it had been at the start of summer, lighter from the sun, and it lifted gently in the wind.
She looked like something from a painting. Something beautiful and untouchable and entirely beyond what I deserved.
As the waves crashed against the beach and gulls cried overhead, I watched her, just savoring the proximity.
For a moment, I allowed myself to imagine that I was living in some reality where I had never betrayed her.
Where this was an end-of-summer getaway we were taking together, as man and wife.
Where I’d be able to walk up and wrap my arms tightly around her, in a way that would make her feel protected and loved.
If only I hadn’t destroyed all of that.
I shook it off and cleared my throat to alert her to my presence.
“Everything is set up,” I said, approaching her at the railing. “Just the way you like it. Is there anything else you need?”
She turned to look at me, and something flickered in her eyes that I couldn’t quite read.
“Thank you, Maddox. The house looks great.” She paused. “You’ve actually gotten quite good at this.”
Joy rushed through me at the compliment. I nodded, allowing myself a small smile, and turned to go. I’d learned not to linger, not to push my presence on her longer than she wanted it.
“Wait.”
I turned back.
“Come here,” she said.
My heart rate kicked up as I approached.
She looked out at the ocean for a long moment before speaking.
“This has been a divine summer,” she said. “After our marriage, this was exactly the detox I needed.”
“I’m glad,” I replied. And I meant it. Whatever pain the summer had caused me, her healing had been worth it.
“But summer is almost over now.”
“Yes.” Labor Day was Monday. The weather was already starting to turn.
She at last looked at me directly. “And as I’ve been thinking about fall… I’m ready to be done with our current setup. I’m putting the house on the market, and I’m finally going to move back to Nightshade Cove.”
“I understand. I’ll go with you. I’ll put in my notice at work on Tuesday,” I said immediately.
Hopefully, I could work out some way to keep up my sessions with Dr. DeMille online, but otherwise it was a no-brainer that I would follow Callie wherever she went.
If worst came to worst, I would start again with another therapist. There was nothing else here I cared about at all.
“You’re misunderstanding me,” Callie said, more kindly than I deserved. “I’m ready to move on from you too. You’re not coming to Nightshade Cove with me. It’s time to find your own place to move to.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. My vision actually went white at the edges.
“Are you unhappy with my service?” I asked, my voice small.
“No, you’ve done a good job. But this couldn’t go on forever. I need to focus on my future now. And for that, I need this chapter of my life to be over.”
I felt like I was going to die. My thoughts spiraled. No more proximity. No more taking care of her. No more carefully made beds or fresh flowers or hoping that maybe, someday, she might look at me and see something worth keeping.
I wanted to fall to my knees and beg her to reconsider. To try everything, to implore, to make promises, to negotiate. To just absolutely leave it all on the field and try everything I could to change her mind.
But that would be putting myself first again, wouldn’t it?
“I’m sorry you didn’t succeed in winning forgiveness from me. But who knows? As the years pass, maybe it’ll happen. You might wake up in ten or fifteen years and find the curse has lifted, and then you’ll know I’ve finally gotten over it.”
I hated that she still thought the curse was my motivation. Desperation to proclaim my love for her and plead my case continued to burn through me… but I had given up the right to have any say in her life.
The least I could do for Callie now was respect her decision without burdening her with my feelings. She deserved to be free of all that now.
“I understand.” It took great effort, but I kept my voice even. “I’m sorry we can’t continue.”
She regarded me thoughtfully for a moment. It was definitely wishful thinking on my part, but I thought she looked just a little bit sad. “You’re taking this much better than I would have expected.”
I took a deep breath. “I just want you to have a good time this weekend. You deserve it. Please don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
She thought for a moment and eventually opened her mouth to speak. But whatever she was going to say caught in her mouth at the first syllable.
Finally, she gave me her back and turned back to the water. “That’ll be all for now, Maddox.” Her tone was notably harder than it had been.
I nodded thanks and slipped back into the house.
If I allowed myself, I could fall apart right now.
But plunging into despair would have to wait until the weekend was over. I muscled back the devastation threatening to overwhelm me. There would be plenty of time to marinate in that.
The entire rest of my life.
For this weekend, I had to focus on enjoying whatever tiny last scraps of Callie’s presence I was ever going to get.