The realization split me open, snapped a wire, leaving a gnarled, twisted barb in my heart.
Perhaps it was years of manipulation that had driven me to assume something so egregious, the conditioning that even the woman who was supposed to protect me above all else was a liar and a thief. My mother had worn my ability to trust, worked it until a callus of suspicion stood between me and the world.
Between me and Marcus.
And I hadn’t even known it was there. Not until now, when it was too late.
Trust. The commodity that he held above all, I’d defiled.
In this one most crucial place, we would always contrast. His entire construct for life was built around the unwavering love of his family, and that love was founded in trust. To Marcus, love and trust were synonymous. They didn’t just go hand in hand—they were the sum and whole of each other.
My construct for life and love was a convoluted knot of opposites. Trust and betrayal. Truth and lies. Where my father showed me what it meant to love and trust, my mother ripped the ideal to ribbons through years of control and manipulation. I thought I knew what it meant to trust. I thought I had my relationship with my mother tidily boxed up and dealt with. But at the very first sign of disloyalty, I turned on Marcus like a wild animal.
I let my mother’s programming override my father’s influence. I let her persuasion negate every good thing he ever gave me.
And with that offense, I had forsaken Marcus in the gravest of ways.
I swiped at my face when the taxi came to a stop in front of Dad’s apartment, paying with shaking hands before sliding out and slinking inside.
Dad was on his feet and rushing me before the door closed. When his arms were around me, I sank into him and let the storm inside of me loose.
I never stopped trembling, not even when I gained composure. Not with the help of a drink and certainly not as I told him what had happened. The guns and mayhem as my mother had been arrested. The sight of her fighting as they’d dragged her away. The accusations she’d laid on me, on Marcus. My fear I would somehow be indicted. That I’d have to testify against her.
And then I told him about Marcus.
His face was shadows and regret, understanding and sorrow as I recounted what I’d said and done. And by the time I was finished, I was as hollow as a jack-o’-lantern, deflated and rancid from being left outside too long.
For a moment, he said nothing. “Your mother put this into your head. She threw her last grenade, and look at what it did.”
“Maybe,” I said again, my voice as watery as my eyes. “Or maybe I am her. I became her without even realizing it, without knowing it until he noted it. Just before he asked me to leave.”
“Maisie,” he started, “don’t—”
“But I did. Please, don’t try to convince me I didn’t behave exactly as she would have. We’d both know it was a lie.”
He didn’t.
His silence was almost worse.
I drew a shaky breath. “I can think of a dozen reasons for what I’ve done. But there’s no excuse.”
“I don’t think I know a single person who would walk away from what you just witnessed without trauma.”
“It doesn’t matter, don’t you see?” I stared at my fingers as if I’d never seen them before. “What’s done is done. All that’s left is to sort through the wreckage.” I breathed for a moment. “What will happen to Mother? Do you know?”
“Well,” he said on a sigh, “she’ll be out of jail as soon as she’s processed, questioned, and bail is paid.”
“That’s all? They don’t keep her?”
“The rich have privilege enough to escape nearly anything. But we can debate the unjustness of the judicial system another time and preferably with more booze.”
I wished I could laugh at the joke. “Will they … I don’t know … put her under house arrest or something?”
“No, I don’t think so. But she won’t go anywhere.”
“I’d feel a whole lot better knowing she was confined to one place.”
He frowned. “Are you worried she’ll confront you?”
“Aren’t you?”
Another sigh. “I don’t know. I hope she wouldn’t, but your mother somehow manages to be both predictable and utterly shocking.”
“And what happens to Bower? Will she keep it? She can’t very well run it from jail.”
“That I don’t know, honey. And I don’t know how to even find out. I suppose I’ll hear from her lawyer, and if I don’t, I should be able to figure something out. I’m still her husband after all. But until then, maybe we can focus on the things you can do something about. Like Marcus.”
“I don’t know if there’s anything I can do. I have committed a cardinal sin. I’m afraid it’s unforgivable.”
“But you don’t know that, not until you talk to him. Marcus doesn’t strike me as an unreasonable man.”
“He’s not. But that’s what makes the rejection so much more painful—he doesn’t say anything he doesn’t mean. And he said … he said …” I swallowed a dry stone. “He said he doesn’t know me at all. He looked at me like a stranger and told me that there’s no way to love someone and believe them to be capable of something this damaging.”
“That’s not fair—we’re human, and we make mistakes. Love is also about forgiveness.”
“In his world, love is founded first in trust,” I explained.
“But not only in trust.”
“I’m sure he’d agree, but to him, it’s paramount.”
“Then talk to him and plead your case.”
I shook my head, unable to meet Dad’s eyes. “He doesn’t want to see me.”
“He does even if he thinks he doesn’t,” Dad answered without hesitation. “Because he loves you even though you hurt him. I don’t care what your ideals are—you can’t just walk away from love without looking back. Without wondering what if. Because love is another important thing—it’s hope. Love hopes that things will get better. It looks for the best in those it loves and believes it can bring those best parts out for the world to see. In a lot of ways, love can change you. Take a look in the mirror. The girl you are now is not the girl you were just a few short months ago, and Marcus’s love nudged you on, gave you courage. Not only should you fight for that, but you should hope. Because if he loves you, he won’t give up as easily as he might have made it seem.”
Every time I brushed tears from my cheeks, more came. So I gave up and let them roll in warm streams down my face, gathering at my chin, dropping to my hands.
Hope. I found a spark of it somewhere deep in my chest and fanned it until it was embers, then a flame, slight and wan as it was. Because one undeniable truth in my heart rose above the rest, cupping that flame in its hands.
I couldn’t imagine a future without Marcus.
With all of my hope and all of my wishes, I shouldered the herculean task of earning back his trust.
And I wouldn’t give up until I did.
27
No Questions, No lies.