10. Maeve
Chapter 10
Maeve
I don’t know what happened today, but Callum’s acting weirder than usual. They all are.
I keep thinking about earlier, when I woke up to Jaime reversing like a maniac down the narrow hill that leads to our house. Something was obviously going on, but when he refused to answer me, I just stopped asking. His silence reminded me that at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter how many heart-to-hearts we have.
This situation is what it is. And I don’t want it anymore.
“I miss my family.”
Callum glares at his phone before resuming his typing. I stare at him for a good minute, wondering if he’s ignoring me or if he just didn’t hear me.
“Callum.”
“Call ‘em then,” he says.
“I miss them. I miss Boston. I want to go home.”
Sighing, he tosses his phone aside and looks at me. The deep, dark eyes that I once loved now look like a stranger’s, all pupil and no iris.
“What?” I ask eventually. He’s staring at me with this weird, helpless expression, like he feels bad but there’s nothing he can do.
“You know what, baby.”
I remember when he first started calling me baby. I loved it. We’d lock ourselves in his car or his bedroom, fooling around between the sheets. He’d come, whispering baby , and beg me to come. Baby baby baby. I’ve heard him sigh it, groan it, scream it, and whine it over the years, and I’ve come to hate it. It’s a played-out substitute for my real name and I’m over it.
Over him, maybe.
“This is home,” he says.
It doesn’t feel like it , I want to say, but I don’t.
Because something is different with him. Something’s changed. I don’t know if he remembers the night he told me I’d regret it if I went home to Boston, but I do. It planted a seed of doubt in my mind that I haven’t been able to uproot or justify the way I usually do.
There’s an element of danger now. I knew that Callum had a darkness in him, but I was never afraid of him because that darkness never touched me. But now I’m afraid that it might, and I don’t want to provoke him.
“If you go, you’ll never come back,” he says, palms up, like the matter’s out of our control when really, it’s just out of his.
“That’s not true,” I say, but it probably is.
A shadow flickers across his face, his features tightening in a way I’ve seen more and more lately. The corners of his mouth dip down and his eyes seem to flatten, cold and unreadable.
A stranger.
“I’m thinking just a few weeks,” I lie. “Maybe I can go trick-or-treating with my nephew.”
“How am I gonna be a devil without an angel at my side?” he teases, referencing the costumes we got for Halloween.
A tinge of desperation blooms in my belly. “All right, maybe I can go for Thanksgiving, then.”
“You know what hurts, Maeve?”
I pause at his soft tone. “What?”
“That after all this time, you still choose them.” He gives me a sardonic smile, shaking his head.
“What are you talking about, Callum? They’re my family!” I cry. “It’s not about choosing.”
“It is, though.”
“It’s not. I can love you and love them. ”
“Nah, because your brothers always looked at me like I was beneath them, and you know what? I’m tired of that shit. I don’t need it, and I definitely don’t need you going back there and having everybody fucking brainwashing you and turning you against me, okay?” he says, his voice getting louder. “It’s been us against the world from day one.”
He’s always said that, and I used to kind of like the melodramatic romanticism of it, but now I have to wonder if it’s rooted in reality. It’s true that my brothers don’t like him, and I always thought they were hypocrites for judging him while they were living crazy lives themselves. But his lifestyle wasn’t the problem. It was his attitude. They saw something I didn’t.
“ I know guys like this, Mae,” Lucky said once, after Callum sent me dozens of roses in apology for something nasty he’d said. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. Funny how I’d forgotten about that. “ How many times are you gonna take him back? You can do better .”
“It’s just a visit,” I say again. “I’d never stop you from seeing your parents or your sister.”
“Lucky for you I don’t want to see them,” he says with a sneer. “Not my dad, anyway. Listen, is this about what happened today? That why you’re being all weird?”
“I don’t even know what happened today,” I say, trying so hard to stay calm. It’s nearly impossible because no matter what I say, he twists it into something else. “So no, this has nothing to do with that. I just want to take a break.”
“A break? From me?” Tears run down his cheeks, but they’re angry tears. Not sad. My heart rate spikes, and I swallow, forcing myself to chill out.
“No, no. No. I just want to visit my parents, Callum. You know my dad’s health is fragile.”
“Your dad’s fine. He’s been fine for a long time, so stop lying,” he says. “I can’t believe this shit. After everything I’ve done for you. I bought this house with you in mind, Maeve. I built that stupid ballet room for you! There isn’t a thing I wouldn’t do for you!”
Yeah, except let me go home . “Callum, stop. You’re being irrational. This would just be for a few days, okay? Maybe Jaime can go with me,” I offer in a burst of inspiration. Maybe if I have a babysitter, he’d be more confident in my return .
“Have I not provided?” he rants, not hearing me. Rising from the bed, he begins to pace back and forth like a lion in a cage that’s way too small.
Resentment swells until I feel like a balloon about to burst. I know it’s the drugs talking, but this is the kind of garbage his father used to say to his mother, right before he’d backhand her. Callum hated his guts, and yet here we are, playing the same twisted games. They say violence begets violence, that it’s generational, that it cycles.
The realization is like a bucket of ice water. This isn’t a game. If I want to prevent what we have from turning into what his parents had, I’m going to have to be really careful. “Yes, you do provide,” I say gently, placating him.
“Haven’t I always given you everything?”
You give me nothing.
“Yes, you do, Callum.”
“Twelve years. Twelve years and you’re ready to go run home to Daddy like a little bitch.” He stops in front of me, scowling at me in a way that steals my breath. Even at our worst, he’s never spoken to me like this. Has his drug use completely warped his mind? Or did it just bring out the monster that’s been lying dormant all this time? “You know, Maeve, they say living with somebody shows you who they really are. Maybe that’s why we’ve lasted so long. We were never in the same place long enough for me to know who you really were.”
I could say the same thing about him. I’ve never seen him act this irrationally, especially not toward me. He seems almost paranoid. Unsettled, I stand up. “You do know me.”
“Do I?”
“I won’t go. I’m sorry I brought it up.”
I start to walk away, but he grabs my arm and wrenches me back around. Gasping, I look up at him as he stares down at me with unblinking eyes. My heart is galloping but I hold his gaze, not wanting to give him any ideas. He needs to think he can trust me, that I’ll stay, that I’m as devoted as I’ve ever been. Until something changes, until I have a plan, it’s all I can do.
Suddenly he sniffs, his face softening as he lets go of me. “I don’t think you understand how much I love you, Maeve. You’re fucking everything to me, like … I can’t do this without you. Remember the Halloween we were Bonnie and Clyde?”
Talk about mood swings. I force a smile, nodding. “Yeah, I remember.”
“Remember when we drove for hours to find that drive-in that was showing Scarface that one time? I always thought you were kinda like my very own Michelle Pfeiffer, but better. And you let me fuck you in the car afterward, right there in the parking lot …”
He rambles on and on, reminiscing, while I smile and nod from beside the bed, my mind racing. Keep him calm. Be agreeable, non-threatening. Make him feel safe. Because as disconnected as I feel from the distant, dismissive Callum that I live with, I’m way more wary of this version. He seems out of control right now, clingy and hyper-emotional.
When he pauses, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes, I take a chance. “It’s been a crazy day, and I think we just need to chill out for a while. Maybe I can run you a bath or something.”
He nods, eyes shining. They’re so dark they look completely black. “That would be great. I love you, baby.”
Tears fill my eyes. I walk into the bathroom before he can see them, turning on the light. “I know you do.”
It’s become exceedingly clear that I can’t ever talk about leaving, never ever. Not permanently, not casually, not maybe, not even for a weekend trip to see family.
Callum knows he’s losing me. He’s all over me, all the time, tightening his grip by spending nearly every moment at my side. One day, he takes me to ballet class and then out for lunch afterward. Another time, he watches while I get my nails done before taking me shopping. We come home with matching Golden State Warriors hoodies, beer, and a couple of pizzas. All smiles and good vibes. It’s just like it’s always been with us, only it’s a sham.
He’s only doing this because smoothing things over with gifts and dates is what’s always worked in the past. I’m doing it because I need him to feel secure in our relationship so that he backs off. It’s ironic, because for months all I wanted was his time and attention. And now that I have it, I just want him to leave me alone so I can have my freedom. His motives aren’t rooted in love; they’re rooted in control and pretending like I’m happy with him is exhausting.
The sooner he goes back to plotting and planning world domination with his friends, the sooner I can extricate myself from this situation and go home. Although I’m realizing more and more that leaving isn’t going to be as simple as I thought it was. Callum’s behavior is unpredictable these days. I never know when something I say or do will set him off, so I’m trying to be as quiet and undemanding as possible. I can’t risk setting him off again. The fading bruises he left on my arm reassure me of that.
And then there’s Jaime. I still don’t know if I can trust him or not. Sometimes it seems like we’re on the same side, like he really cares about me. It’s in the way he asks questions and listens to my answers, how he carries my bags and opens my doors. I know the difference between his real smiles and the fake ones, and when he gives me a real one, I feel like I’ve won.
But I’ve barely seen him since the day we went to the Golden Gate Bridge, let alone spoken to him. Now that Callum’s all over me, Jaime’s either in the guest house or hanging out with the guys. I’d think he didn’t care at all, only sometimes I catch him watching me.
It’s hard to know what to think when he looks at me like that because I like him, too. I like his big, brown eyes and rich, bronze skin. I like his sleek, black hair and his husky voice, his faint Brooklyn accent and that scar that looks like a dimple when he smiles for real. I like the way my stomach swoops when our eyes meet.
He makes me feel seen, safe, and protected. He listens without judgment. I find myself wishing I could just go for a ride with him, listening to music. Somewhere, anytime, anywhere.
I get my wish when Uncle Dario sends the guys to San Diego on an errand.
Callum pulls me aside right before leaving, caressing the side of my face. “I gotta go, but I’ll be back soon.”
I nod, giving him a small smile. “Be safe.”
“Always.” He kisses me, his caress turning into a gentle grip on my chin. “Don’t do anything dumb, okay? Jaime’s keeping an eye on you. ”
It’s like a brick just settled in my stomach. This whole time, Callum has played it off like Jaime is here for my safety. But in reality, he’s here for Callum’s benefit. To make sure I stay put. I don’t know which betrayal feels worse; my boyfriend’s or my bodyguard’s.
Maybe it’s my own. I should have left before this got so sticky, and in ignoring my instincts, I betrayed myself.
“Okay,” I whisper, letting him press another kiss to my lips before he heads out the front door.
When Callum comes back a day and a half later, it’s like the past week never happened. The house parties and random visitors start back up, and when he’s not getting shitfaced here at home he’s out with his boys. All in the name of business, of course, but it’s hard to take him seriously when he comes home late reeking of liquor, blunts, cigarettes, and other women’s perfume.
It’s gross, but at least he’s leaving me alone.
We’re minutes from my dance class when Jaime turns down the music and clears his throat. “You mad about something?”
I look up from my phone, where I’ve been texting my old friend Delphine. She just got engaged and is thinking of doing a bachelorette party in Santorini. “Why would I be mad?”
“You didn’t want coffee?—”
“I had coffee.”
“You didn’t want my coffee,” he amends. “And I don’t know … you just seem quiet today.” He shrugs a shoulder, eyebrows raised in question.
“I’m fine,” I murmur, hearting the photo Delphine just sent of her new ring.
Jaime nods once. “Yeah, you’re mad.”
I put my phone away, aware of his gaze as he waits for me to say something, but what is there to say? That I’m frustrated? With him, with Callum, with this whole situation? That I’m secretly planning to leave when the time is right? That I want to trust him but don’t know if I can?
That I have a silly, inconvenient crush on him that I can’t seem to shake, and it hurt a little when he avoided me last week? I can’t unload all of that on Jaime—it would sound crazy. Because it is.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. I can’t keep letting my feelings for him cloud my judgment. I don’t have that kind of freedom.
“I'm not mad,” I finally say, giving him a small smile. “I just have a lot on my mind, you know?”
Jaime nods slowly, his eyes searching mine before he looks back to the road. “I’m here if you need to unload.”
“Oh, no. Not that again,” I say with a small laugh.
“What?”
“Last time I unloaded, I scared you away.”
“What are you talking about?” He chuckles. “Nah.”
“Well, anyway, sharing goes both ways. I’m not going to sit here, spilling my guts, when you’re a closed book,” I say lightly. I mean it, though. If I’m going to tell him my business, there needs to be an exchange.
“If there’s something you wanna know, just ask.”
“Oh, really? You’ll spill all your secrets?”
He freezes, his knuckles whitening against the steering wheel for a split second. It’s over before I really see it, but I know what I saw. “Secrets?”
“Yeah, like what happened last week?” I ask, wondering what secrets he’s thinking about to warrant such an odd reaction. “When we got home, and you pulled a Fast & Furious back down the hill? No one will tell me anything. Do you have any idea how frustrating that is?”
His face smooths. “You should probably talk to Callum about that.”
“Don’t you think I’ve tried?” I say. “Ugh, you know what? Never mind. I’m just his clueless, idiotic girlfriend. Nothing more than a fucking accessory. The couch in the living room knows more than I do at this point.”
“All right, all right,” he says with a tired laugh. “If you really wanna know, I’ll tell you.”
“I really want to know,” I say flatly. “Don’t leave out any details. I mean it.”
“Callum met with some guys that fuck with his uncle’s rival across the bay. I think he thought he could set something up behind his back? Cal said it was okay at first but then they started getting weird about pricing. Things went downhill, and when they threatened him, Griff pulled a gun and told them to get out.” He pulls up to the curb outside my class and turns to me. “I was just getting back to the house with you when I heard gunshots. I figured something was going down, so I backed up real quick and that’s when you woke up.”
“They were shooting at each other? In our house?” I gape at him. “What the actual fuck?”
“Yeah.” He scratches his head, something I’ve noticed he does when he’s uncomfortable. “I wouldn’t have brought you back there had I known it was going off.”
“Why does he keep bringing people like that over?” I ask, bewildered. “I don’t get it. It’s like he thinks he’s invincible.”
“Mhm.” Jaime nods, obviously agreeing with me even if he won’t say so explicitly.
“And he wants me to stay there with him. It’s insanity.” Sighing, I lean over to pluck my bag from the back seat. “Well, thanks for telling me.
“Don’t tell him I told you,” he says with a little wink.
That wink hits me right between the ribs, kickstarting my heart. Shaking my head, I open the door and step out onto the sidewalk. “Of course not. But you have to keep giving me intel.”
“We’ll see,” he says with an amused grin. “Bye, Maeve. Have fun twirling around.”
“Have fun brooding around the city,” I shoot back, shutting the door.
“I love salted caramel,” I whisper, stopping cold in the middle of the aisle.
“Mm, me too.” Jaime chucks a pack of salted caramel cookies into the shopping cart, lips quirking into a smile when our eyes meet. I’ve come to realize that when it comes to the munchies, he’s just as bad as I am.
It’s almost Halloween, so there’s candy everywhere. I grab a bag of chocolate and point for Jaime to get marshmallows. “We should make s'mores,” I say. “On the grill outside. ”
“I haven’t had s’mores since I was a kid,” he says, adding the marshmallows to the mountain of crap in the cart.
“What? I have them every summer.”
“Did you have them this summer?” He pauses, pulling his phone from his pocket to read what I’m guessing is a text.
“No, which is why it’s even more imperative that we make them now.”
We smoked during our walk today and then again on our way to Trader Joe’s. May not have been the best idea, seeing that my munchies are out of control and everything, and I do mean everything , appeals to me right now. I justify it by reminding myself that I took an advanced ballet class today before wandering the hills of Tilden Park with Jaime. A little sugar won’t hurt.
We go for walks every day, sometimes for hours. The longer the walks, the more we talk, and I come home from our outings feeling both exhausted and refreshed.
By this point, he knows about the dogs I had growing up and how I wish I had one or two now. My summers in Nantucket and Belfast, my preference for autumn, and my penchant for K-dramas. I tell him all about growing up in Boston and going to boarding school at Edenbrook, how my love for ballet started when my grandparents took me to see Coppélia when I was three. I tell him how I met my best friend, and how she’s married to my brother now, how much I miss being in their lives.
In turn, Jaime tells me about Brooklyn, how he and his mom moved around a lot, all the different schools he went to. His summers in Puerto Rico, visiting family. He talks about squeaking through community college and moving out west for a job with a friend that turned into the type of stuff he does now. He doesn’t give me too many details beyond that, but I don’t expect him to. Discretion is, after all, the name of the game in this life. He’s like my brothers and my dad in that way.
Jaime is the best part of my day. I’ll miss him when I finally leave this place.
I angle the heavy shopping cart around the corner and into the bread aisle. Jaime nudges me aside, taking over the cart. “Such a gentleman,” I tease, relinquishing the cumbersome task with gratitude. I might’ve gotten a little carried away during today’s shopping trip .
“Of course,” he says. “My mom raised me right.”
“She sure did.” My words come out a little flirtier than I intended, and I cringe. We spend so much time together that it’s easy for me to slip, even when I really shouldn’t.
He looks down at me with a sly smile, making my heart skip. A current of something—mutual attraction probably—passes between us. That happens a lot these days. Reaching up, I straighten the collar of his jacket. It’s an unnecessary, slightly intimate gesture, an excuse to touch him on purpose, and my hand shakes.
A shopping cart with a wailing toddler passes right by, jostling me out of the moment. I stand back as Jaime averts his eyes and nods toward the front of the store.
“Let’s go before you buy out this joint.”
Yeah, we should go, even though my heart yearns to explore this unspoken thing between us, consequences be damned! Or maybe I’m just stoned .
At home, Callum is drunk and rowdy, arguing with Griffin about God knows what. As is our custom, Jaime wisely slips into the living room while I put groceries away. Mac walks through the front door a few minutes later, going straight to the fridge for a beer.
“Are we still going to the game tonight?” he yells toward the living room.
Callum pauses mid-tirade. “Wait, who’re the Warriors playing?”
“The Clippers.”
“Oh, shit. Yeah, let’s get it.” Callum comes into the kitchen, tossing his empties into the recycling bin. “You wanna come?” he asks, giving my butt a pat.
“Not tonight.” I shake my head with an apologetic smile. “I’m pretty tired.”
He doesn’t press it because he doesn’t really want me there anyway, intruding on his man-outing. They go all the time during basketball season. It’s probably the most normal thing they do. Standing behind me, close enough that I can feel his breath, he leaves a wet kiss on my neck. “Jaime’s right next door if you need him, okay?”
I nod, wiping up the small mess left by Callum’s dinner. Yelena, our housekeeper, comes several days a week, but leaving extra work for her feels rude, so I always make a point to clean up .
He kisses the other side of my neck, giving me a little nip, then grabs his keys. “Don’t wait up.”
“’Kay.” As soon as I hear the front door close, I wipe the kisses off and march over to Jaime’s.
“What’s up?” he asks with an expectant smile. “You looking for more weed?”
“No! What do I look like?” Scoffing, I fold my arms. “I think we should make s’mores and watch a scary movie.”
He pauses, seeming to consider my proposal.
“C’mon, it’s spooky season,” I cajole. “It’ll be fun.”
“Okay, but we’re making the s’mores in the toaster oven,” he says. “It’s easier.”
“That’s not very nostalgic,” I say.
“Nostalgic would be a campfire,” he says. “And we’re definitely not doing that. Anyway, we always made them in the toaster oven back in the day.”
“Fine,” I relent.
“And we’ll watch the movie here.”
“Oh.” Surprised, I look past him into his living space. I never really paid attention, but the TV here is nearly as enormous as the one in the main house. “Okay, but why?”
“There are no cameras here,” he says slowly. Meaningfully. There’s a hint of challenge in his eyes when he says this, like he’s putting the ball in my court.
My heart gives an anxious thump. There are only two reasons Callum would leave me alone in the company of another man this often. One, he’s deluded himself into thinking I’d never cheat like he does, whether from fear or devotion I’m not sure. And two, he never sees Jaime and I joking around the way we do when we’re on our own. Our behavior around the others remains distant and polite. He has no idea we’ve become friends.
That would definitely change if he saw us chumming it up and watching movies together.
“That makes sense,” I breathe, nodding.
And later, when my hand hits his as we reach for popcorn at the same time, the rush it gives me is scarier than the movie we’re watching. Our buttery fingers slide together for a second before I pull back, blushing in the semi-darkness.
Jaime pauses the movie. “Sorry, I'm being a pig.”
“We’re both being pigs,” I say wryly, thinking about the munchies we’ve blown through tonight. “I haven’t smoked in a while.”
He chuffs softly, amused, running his non-buttery hand through his hair. “You thirsty? I’m gonna re-up on my water.”
But I’m looking at his hand as it threads through the strands of his hair. That hair is one of the things I think about when I get off … naughty, wicked thoughts when it’s just me and the shower head. I imagine pulling on his hair, running my hands through it. I imagine it tickling my skin, maybe my thighs. “You’ve got really nice hair,” I blurt.
Huffing softly, he stands up with our empty glasses. “Thanks. I go for touch-ups at a salon downtown while you’re in ballet.”
I blink, my brain still muddled from the last bowl we shared. “Really?”
“No, Maeve.” He walks into the kitchenette. “I just hit up the barber every now and then.”
“You’re a jerk,” I complain, watching him refill our water glasses.
“No, you’re just gullible.”
I throw popcorn at him when he sits. “I’m not gullible. I just trust you.”
He catches the kernels, popping them into his mouth. “Good. You should.”