19. Maeve
Chapter 19
Maeve
M y social battery, which started dying soon after Callum pulled his proposal stunt, goes completely red sometime between the first and second serving of pie. I’ve been congratulated by everyone at this point, hugged and kissed and photographed to the point of exhaustion.
Paloma is the only person who seems to sense that not all is as it should be. She catches me when I’m coming out of the bathroom, her pretty face pulled into a mask of concern.
“Maeve,” she says carefully, her dark eyes looking me over as if she’s searching for signs of injury. “Are you all right?”
I paste yet another smile onto my face. “Just a little tired. It’s been such an exciting day."
She sighs, taking my hand. Her delicate fingers are cold, but gentle. “You know, you remind me a lot of myself at your age.”
“Really?” I ask, my heart giving a wild thump.
A small, sad smile graces Paloma’s deep red lips. “Do you still dance, Maeve?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Don’t stop,” she says. “You’re young—you have plenty of time to get married if that’s what you truly want. But don’t stop dancing. Don’t let anyone, not even my son, get in your way. ”
Stunned, I barely register as she squeezes my hand. But I squeeze back, grateful for this moment of sanity in what feels like the most surreal of fever dreams.
Lingering at the fringes of the party for a while, I finally pull an Irish goodbye and escape to our guest room. There are so many people, and the music and chatter are so loud, that I doubt anyone will notice I’m gone anyway. I wash my face and sink into bed, finally returning Liam’s text with a silly face of my own.
Callum wakes me up when he stumbles in later. Knowing better than to be coked up around the family, he’s more than made up for it with alcohol. He’s sloppy and horny, and though sometimes too much imbibing affects how he performs, tonight he’s all over me.
“Come on, Callum, not now,” I moan, genuinely exhausted. I push my face down into the pillow but he flips me onto my back and straddles me. I try to ignore the frisson of fear that wriggles down my spine as his weight presses me into the mattress.
“You looked so good in that dress tonight,” he says, running his hands up and down my arms. “I lost count of how many people told me how beautiful you were.”
“Aw, that’s sweet,” I murmur, yawning as I pat his hand.
He touches the ring he put on my finger earlier, then raises my hand to kiss it. “Fucking crazy, huh? We’re finally doing this, after all this time.”
“Yeah, crazy,” I agree, pushing gently on his chest.
He catches my hands, folding them between his. “Were you surprised?”
“Very,” I say, wiggling beneath his weight. “Callum, can you get off?—"
But he leans down, landing a wet kiss on my mouth. “I know it’s been a hard year for you,” he slurs, surprising me. I wasn’t sure he’d noticed. “But it’ll all be worth it. You’ll see.”
Part of me wants to ask him what he was thinking, randomly asking me to marry him when he’s the reason it’s been a hard year. But a small voice tells me to just go along with it. I don’t want to piss him off, not when he’s drunk like this. “Okay,” I say, kissing him back for a second before giving him another small push .
He kisses my neck, grinding into me a little. “Don’t you want to celebrate?”
“Yeah, but I feel kind of weird doing this here,” I say, which is partly true. “Let’s celebrate once we’re home.”
“You can’t be serious,” he gripes, pulling back to look at me. His voice is tempered, but I can see his annoyance by the light coming from the bathroom. “You used to be down to fuck anytime, anyplace. Remember when we did it in the bathroom during your grandma’s birthday? You sure didn’t mind then.”
It hurts, the way he slings the memory at me like a stone. He makes it sound dirty.
“Feels like you never wanna fuck anymore,” he complains, shifting. I can feel how hard he is. “I hope this isn’t the way it’s gonna be from here on out.”
I don’t know why he cares when he’s been getting it from someone else, maybe multiple someones, for a while. I guess it only bothers him when it’s convenient. “I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.” I say, hoping that if I stall for long enough, he’ll pass out in a drunken haze.
“Then I’ll do all the work,” he whispers playfully, tugging on my panties as he tries to pry my legs apart.
I push his hand away from my underwear. “Please don’t.” He ignores me, so I shove him off and clamp my knees shut. “Stop it, Callum,” I say, proud my voice doesn’t shake. “I don’t want to do it tonight!”
Grabbing my hands and holding them over my head, he gets my panties off. “Stop wiggling,” he says, laughing a little.
“I’m not joking,” I say. “Stop it, Callum.” But it’s like he can’t hear me. The harder I struggle, the more he holds me down and I realize that he means to take me by force, maybe worse than the other time. A wave of panic barrels up my body, threatening to pull me under. I can’t just lie here.
I can’t.
I can’t.
“Stop!” I gasp, bucking my hips with everything I’ve got. Somehow it works, and the second there’s enough space between us, I draw my legs in and knee him in his abdomen.
Callum grunts in pain. He wraps one hand around my neck, slapping me with the other so hard I lose my breath. For a moment, I feel nothing at all. Then my face grows prickly and hot, followed by a deeply intense ache that brings tears to my eyes.
“Shit, shit, shit … baby I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he chants, reaching for my face.
“Get off me,” I sob. My face feels like it’s on fire, and now I wonder if he backhanded me. It was a brutal smack either way, but he wears rings, and how he hit me will determine if I’m cut or bruised.
“Maeve.” Callum’s voice shakes as he rolls off me and stands beside the bed. “I’m so sorry. Swear to God, I never?—”
“You promised,” I cry, choking on snot and tears as I run for the bathroom. “You promised you’d never do that to me.” I shut the door and lock it, ignoring his pathetic pleas and apologies.
I’ve never been hit before, not in the face. I never fought in school. The pain is shocking, the humiliation worse. I stay in the bathroom all night, making a bed of bath towels on the floor.
Dario raises an eyebrow when he finds me in the hallway the next morning. “Might want to put some ice on that,” he says mildly, sipping coffee as he walks out onto the patio.
Lowering my eyes, I dart into the kitchen before anyone else sees me and steal a few painkillers from the pantry. Last time we visited, Gigi gave me one for a headache, so I know she keeps them there.
Thankfully, the house is as still as a tomb today. Gigi and her girls are out shopping for Black Friday and Callum is passed out. My stomach cramps every time I think about him and what happened last night which is nonstop. Even if I were able to think about something else, the tenderness around the right side of my face wouldn’t let me forget. Nor would the stiff achiness from lying on the freezing tile floor all night.
We aren’t supposed to leave until tomorrow, but I can’t stay here. Things have been disintegrating for a long time, but last night was the final nail in the coffin. My coffin, if I don’t get the hell away from him somehow. Popping two Tylenol, I drink a glass of water from the faucet and return to our room .
Callum is in the shower when I get back, so I sit on the bed and wait for him, picking at the hole in my jeans. He doesn’t take long, his eyes widening slightly when he sees me. “Hey,” he says uncertainly, toweling his hair.
“Hey. I’m going to call an Uber and head home,” I say. “Just wanted to let you know.”
“I’ll drive you,” he says quietly, hanging his towel. “Just let me get dressed.”
I can tell he feels genuinely bad for what he did, so if he wants to cut his trip short to take me home, then good. I don’t want to be alone with him, but anything is better than being stuck with him here . I’ve avoided looking at my face, not sure I can handle seeing myself this way, but judging by Dario’s and now Callum’s reactions, it’s bad. I finally face myself in the mirror right before we leave, my heart breaking all over again when I see the swelling and the bruises purpling the apple of my cheek.
Wincing, I touch it, pressing gently against the puffy, reddened skin. Knowing that Callum did this to me hurts even more than the injury itself. It feels like I’ve truly lost all innocence now, like he’s taken something away from me. I pull my collar down, eyeing the small bruises he left on my neck and shudder, turning away.
Callum can hardly look at me as we walk out to the car which is fine because I can barely look at him. He knows what he did crossed every sort of line there is. He knows . He grew up watching his father beat his mother and always swore he’d never be like that. I’m glad that I’ve already broken up with him in my heart, because now there’s no lying to myself, no pretending he’ll wake up and treat me better.
Because his guilt will fade, I’ll piss him off again, and his instinct will be to do this again. There is no turning back now.
Having barely slept last night, I doze the whole way home and wake to Callum saying my name. I blink groggily, my eyes finally focusing on our house. We’re back. I get out before he can say anything else, shivering in the bleak cold, but he gets to the trunk first and takes our bags.
Inside, the house is empty and cold. Yelena didn’t expect us back this early, so she hasn’t been by to get things ready for us. Callum turns the heat on, cursing lightly to himself as he surveys the fridge.
“I’m going to run down to Rockridge real quick, grab some stuff from that deli you like,” he says, coming back to the door where I’m still standing beside the bags.
I want to tell him that I don’t care what he does, but I just lean over and unzip my boots. My face throbs with the movement.
“You in the mood for anything?” he asks.
“Nope,” I say, straightening up.
“I texted Jaime before we left, by the way,” he adds, reaching for me. Thankfully, his hand drops before he makes contact. “He should be back soon, okay?”
My heart skips a beat at the mention of Jaime’s name, the first pure emotion I’ve had in days. But then it falls, because Callum’s motives are never pure. “Why?”
He drops his eyes as he opens the door. “I’ll be right back.”
A soft sob rips from my chest once he’s gone, and I lean my forehead against the front door. Callum’s acting meek and repentant now, but how long will that last? I know the cycle. I know he’s going to get clingier than ever now, because he always does after a fight or when he senses I might leave. In fact, I know that’s why he called my bodyguard. He’s determined to keep me here.
If only he knew.