CHAPTER 22 Maya
Maya
The construction site was on the north side of town. Maya parked on the gravel verge and sat for a moment, hands on the wheel. The architectural firm’s logo was on a large sign. Maya would have loved to work for them under normal circumstances. Maybe this would be okay.
The job listing had been for a site coordinator. She could do it in her sleep.
She got out of the car.
A converted shipping container at the edge of the lot was the site office. Maya climbed the two metal steps and knocked against the frame.
"Come in."
The man at the desk was in his fifties, heavyset, with the weathered hands of someone who had spent a long time on sites before he'd ended up behind a desk.
"I'm here about the coordinator role,” she said. “I spoke to someone on the phone."
"Right, right." He gestured to the folding chair opposite. "Sit."
She sat. He took her résumé when she offered it, glanced over it with a practiced eye. His brows lifted.
"Accessible builds, mostly. Retrofits, permits." He looked up at her. "You did that community sports center renovation?"
"Yes."
"Huh." He nodded slowly.
She watched it happen. The small pause, the flicker of recognition settling into place.
He didn't say anything for a moment. She watched him work through it—the arrest, the gossip, whatever he'd seen online.
He leaned back in his chair. "Look," he said. His tone had changed. "You've got good experience. I'll give you that."
"Thank you."
"But this role involves handling subcontractor invoicing. Materials orders. A lot of small payments moving through a lot of hands."
"I understand."
"And I've got a business to run. I've got a crew out there who need to trust the person signing off on their hours."
"I understand," she said again.
He pushed her résumé back across the desk toward her. She looked at her name at the top, her whole working life laid out underneath it in neat bullet points.
She reached for the paper and stood.
The site was busy. Two men in high-vis stood near the gate. She recognized one of them. He glanced up as she passed and then nudged the man next to him.
Maya kept her chin up until she got into her car.
She dropped her résumé onto the passenger seat. She put her hands back on the wheel and sat there, staring through the windscreen at the half-built frame of whatever they were putting up.
A children's center, the sign said. With an accessible play area.
She had three missed calls. They were all from Reid.
She should drive back to the Merritts. She would tell Edith and Thomas and Jenny what had happened. That she hadn’t got the job.
But she wished she was going into her own home instead. She wished she could see Reid. Not the real Reid, but the Reid who had been a lie. The Reid who had always had her back.
She stared at the missed call notifications.
Then she tapped it.
The line barely had time to ring.
“Maya?” His voice was rough with urgency. “Are you okay? What do you need? I can—”
“I’m returning your call,” she said, interrupting him. She couldn’t tell him what she needed. She needed to get over that impulse. She couldn’t expect him to give her what she needed.
A small pause. "Oh," he said. "Of course. Right. Sorry."
Maya waited, listened to him breathe. Took an illicit comfort in it, even as she berated herself for that weakness.
“I wanted you to know—your accounts. They’ve been reinstated. You should have full access now.”
Maya closed her eyes. “Okay,” she said. Of course he was calling about practical matters. She needed to be strong. But she didn’t feel strong right now. She felt battered and bruised.
“The joint account, too.” She could hear his hand rubbing across skin, and she pictured it automatically, the way he took off his glasses and rubbed his face. “You should use the joint account,” he said, intensely. “If you need anything. Food, expenses—anything. I’ve put all my money there.”
Maya felt the hot threat of tears. Why was he being so kind to her?
That was just Reid Lawson doing the right thing. He always did the right thing. She couldn’t let herself be fooled by it. It didn’t mean anything more than that, not like she wanted him to.
“But… aren’t we—” She forced herself to say it clearly. “Aren’t we getting a divorce?”
The inhale on the other end of the line was rough and immediate.
“No.” And then again, more forcefully. “No.”
She bit her lip.
He exhaled, uneven. “Please—just… let me make it right.”
Maya closed her eyes.
The shop flashed through her mind without invitation. The way the florist had looked at her. The humiliating judgment she couldn’t argue with, couldn’t fight.
That would be her life now.
She opened her eyes again, staring unseeing out of the windshield.
Could she go back? Could she go back and be happy now she knew?
Back to the man she loved, to the home that had been theirs, to the life that had felt whole and certain—
Could she stand beside him, knowing that when it mattered most, he had looked at her and seen a thief?
Her throat tightened.
“Maya?” Reid said.
The question was brutal. Could she be happy being married to the love of her life knowing he didn’t love her the way she had loved him?
Reid was waiting for her answer. She could feel his attention on her, that absolute, focus narrowed to one thing.
To her.
She had always loved that.
She didn’t feel strong but she had no choice. Not when weakness would destroy her.
When she spoke, her voice was steady.
“I don’t think you can,” she said.