by J. J. McAvoy
“Ivy,” he whispered, resting his forehead on mine.
“Y…yes?”
“Why are you crying?”
I didn’t even realize I was. And now that I did I tried to look away from him, but he just kissed my cheek and the side of my eye. Until his lips were at my ear again.
“You don’t play fair…”
Me? I don’t play fair?
“I can barely control myself when you smile…seeing you like this…” He kissed my ear again. “You even cry beautifully…it makes me weak.”
I held on to him tighter, trying not to become even more of a mess than I was.
“Who said you could talk?” I choked out. “I thought I was the one in control here.”
When he didn’t say anything again I glanced back up at him, and he was smiling at me gently, a light layer on top of him.
“Forgive me, wife,” he said before kissing me again and as he filled me I never wanted to leave the floor of the damn closet.
ETHAN
For the first time since I met her she was quiet as we ate on the floor of our bedroom. After my closet experiment, we lay there wrapped in each other’s arms for almost an hour until her stomach growled and I called for an early dinner. It was already four in the afternoon. I did my best not to watch her as she ate her yogurt, still dazed, but failing. However, it proved I made the right choice. Did I want to tie her up and have my way with her…yes. Did I hate taking orders from anyone…also yes. But Ivy was used to rough, and while that thought pissed me off to no end, I tried to think of it only in the context of her life and not anyone she’d been with before me. Yes, I am chauvinist, what-fucking-ever. Either way, I figured if I’d done what I wanted she wouldn’t have been fazed much.
“Wife,” I called, and she jumped slightly, staring at me. “Are you all right?”
“Huh…yea…I mean, yea, I’m fine. Just hungry,” she lied, eating again and looking back through the phone that came up along with the food.
This is better, I thought, taking a bite out of my chicken. I realized she wouldn’t stay this soft-spoken and reserved for long. But that didn’t matter.
“Here.” I lifted the yellow tie and handed it to her. “For whenever you need control again. Don’t go abusing your power, wife.”
She smiled, taking it from me. “I’ll try, but you’re the one who gave power to a novice.”
“Not a novice. My wife.” I’d keep saying it until she understood it.
“Why do you trust me so much? I hated you only until a little while ago…” She put her cup and spoon down. “And don’t tell me it’s the vows again. Despite being a jerk when we first met, you’re still considerate and kind to me.”
I wasn’t sure how to phrase it to her other than, “Rule four: no bloody divorce. Rule forty–eight: love your wife above all else…after all, she is the one who can either keep you warm at night or make sure you never wake up. Rule forty-nine: never cheat. Affairs destroy the family. No face or body is worth it.”
“What? What are those rules?”
“The Callahan family rules,” I said, taking another bite of my food as she focused all her attention on me. “From my father, which came from his father and his father before him. Rules are very important to this family because they have kept us on top. We respect them. We acknowledge they may be contrary sometimes. However, the point is the same, take care of your family, your people, and do it while looking ungodly handsome. Something I was luckily blessed in spades with.”
“Wow….” She stretched out. “If your ego were food it could end world hunger twice over.”
Ignoring her, I went on. “Why do I treat you this way? Because this is how I’ve been taught to treat you.”
She frowned, inching closer to me until she rested her chin on my shoulder. “I feel like there is more.”
“Everyone feels like there is more,” I muttered, taking the glass of water, her eyes still on me. “But it is the truth. Would you prefer if I come up with something romantic?”
“Do you know how?”
I scowled at that. “Sorry, that was my father’s forte.”
“Your father?”
I nodded. “The man who loved his wife so dearly he’d nearly killed himself. My parents’ love affair was renowned and blinding for us growing up.”
“My parents loved each other too,” she said, but I didn’t think she understood.
“I’m sure. However, my parents were obsessed,” I told her, thinking back on it, though it was not hard to remember. “They were like two magnets. The minute one of them came into the room they automatically knew, and when they were close they were almost inseparable. They fought with each other physically and verbally just for the sole purpose of making up. If my mother went more than an hour without speaking with him she’d become irritated. My father refused to sleep until she came home. They walked at the same pace. Their eyes met at the same time. They even breathed evenly. I thought it was normal for the longest time, until I watched Toby’s parents get a divorce. I didn’t even really understand what that meant then. I thought it was maybe just them. But soon I came to realize that almost half of marriages failed and I was shocked. It was never in the realm of reality for our family.”
I hadn’t noticed I’d trailed off until she lifted her chin from my shoulder.
“Do you want a love like your parents’?”
“No.” I snickered, drinking, then remembered who I was speaking with. Of course she wasn’t pleased. “It sounds great to be loved like that. I’m sure it was great. Until my mother died. And, like you said, my father became a shell of the man he was. But that wasn’t even the worst. If he’d simply self-destructed I could have understood. Instead, he was…horrifying. He took out his anger on us, his children, like he blamed us for keeping him alive and not dying. He ripped us apart with vengeance. He sent Dona to a boarding school. And contently drove Wyatt and me against each other when we were together. And when I was with him, he’d blame me for defeating Wyatt. He’d ask me how I’d let my brother fail, meanwhile he’d asked me to make him fail. There was no peace. The day he died we all took a deep breath again. That is what his love did…and I want no part in it.”
“So never lov—”
“The point isn’t not to love…it’s not to obsess.”
She smiled and nodded. “I’ll let you know if you start obsessing over me.”
“I’m not the problem,” I said, grabbing my yogurt.
“Are you saying I am?”
“Have you seen me?”
She groaned, rolling her eyes and getting up. “I’m going to take a shower. Feel free to marry your own reflection or something.”
“I tried. Apparently it’s not legal in the state of—”
“Oh my God, you are annoying!” she yelled and laughed, stomping over to the bathroom. Smirking, I didn’t move and kept eating.
“I do hope you know this story is not for free,” I called out, grabbing an apple as I rose to my feet.
“What?”
Walking toward the shower, I watched as she stood under the water and as it rolled off the curve of her breast.
“My eyes are up here.”
“I know where your eyes are. I wasn’t looking at them,” I said, taking a bite out of the fruit in my hand.
“As you were saying?” She reached for my shampoo, just pouring the hundred-dollar bottle on her head.
“Give and take. You hear about my past, I’ll hear about yours once we get to Boston.”
“What?” She paused, her hands tangled in her hair.
“We leave for Boston first thing in the morning. Sorry, wife, but I like business with a side of pleasure.” I wanted to join her…badly. But the look of horror, anger, and anticipation kept me at bay. Leaving her, I walked back to my bed, picking up my phone, long since forgotten. Only three missed calls from Dona and one from my aunt Cora, which was followed by a text that they were gone with my grandmother.
Dialing, it ra
ng once before he picked up.
“Sir?”
“Is everything ready?”
“Yes. I’ll be flying out—”
“No. You’ll stay here in Chicago. Report to Dona, let her know I’m leaving her to look over the house.” She’d know what that meant and hopefully it would cool her head off some. Dona wouldn’t fail. The problem was, just like a dog that had tasted blood, it was almost impossible to cage them again. “However, Tobias…don’t let her out of your sight.”
“Of course.”
“Good.”
“Ethan,” he called out before I could hang up. “Congratulations on your wedding, my friend.”
“You keep calling me that, but we are not friends.” I hung up, throwing the phone onto the bed.
Turning around, Ivy stood in my robe, which was so big on her it almost seemed as if she were drowning in it, her hair dripping wet and sticking to her face.
“Who’s dying first?”
“Anyone who won’t bow.”
The corner of her lip turned up, as did mine.
Boston was about to get very ugly.
SEVENTEEN
“I wanted movement and not a calm course of existence. I wanted excitement and danger and the chance to sacrifice myself for my love.”
~ Leo Tolstoy
TOBIAS
There are people in this world who refuse to walk the easy path. They see it in front of them. Many times they are even set upon it, given directions and simply told to walk. Yet they refuse. They prefer to struggle. They prefer to fight. They prefer to scream out in frustration and nearly die, going a much more painful route. Outsiders call them masochists. However, those people didn’t realize what people like me realized…there is nothing at the end of the easy path. Why? Because those who created that path stripped it of all it was worth on their way. Where the glory and wealth and power came from, that only came from the path of no return.
I chose that path long ago.
To be this person, to get this close…
It meant pain, but it was worth it. She was worth it.
“You said the pool house was the place things go to die,” I said, watching as she drank her red wine, her gaze never breaking from the pool in front of her. Small ripples spread through the surface of the water as she gently kicked her foot back and forth.
“You think I’ll kill myself?” she asked, drinking again.
“You love yourself far too much to die,” I replied, walking up the side of the pool toward her.
“True.” She nodded…finishing off her glass and picking up the bottle next to her and refilling her glass.
“Don’t you think that’s enough?”
“Would you ask my brother that question?”
“No.” I knew what she was trying to imply. “But only because I’m not in love with your brother. He can drink himself to death if he wants.”
She sighed, finally looking over at me. “What do you want, Toby?”
God, she fucking drove me up the wall sometimes. Standing beside her, I handed the cell phone over to her, which she took and read the message on it before dropping it in the water in front of her.
“I thought you’d be happy he’s leaving the keys to the kingdom to you.”
She scoffed. “Why would having my brother’s errand boy sending me a message from my own brother make me happy? In fact, if I had the strength I’d be furious. He can’t find me himself anymore.”
Do not let her pull you in. She wanted to fight. She was just itching to belittle someone to make her feel better. If I reacted I allowed her to choose me.
“He’s on his honeymoon with his wife. He hasn’t come out of their room all day.” Which was shocking in and of itself.
“Honeymoon.” She laughed bitterly. “The man who avoids love like the plague sure is adjusting well.”
“He’s never not loved you.”
“I’m family.”
“So is she.”
“Are you trying to make me feel better or piss me off?”
“Neither, just trying to make you see reason.”
She rose up to her feet, and though she was shorter, the way she looked at me you’d never realize it. “You think I’m being a brat.”
I didn’t reply.
She nodded to herself, finished her wine, and threw the glass to the ground, shattering it on impact before she dove into the pool. Turning, I watched as she didn’t even bother to swim, just sank to the bottom, closing her eyes.
The minute she hit the water, without even trying I already started timing her. She could last nine minutes and forty seconds on her best day…and today she was not at her best. When I saw the bubbles and she’d bothered to move, I still waited, hoping she’d snap out of it, but fucking shit, man!
Taking off my coat, I dove into the water, reaching down and pulling her up with me. She gasped for air as we broke through the surface and pushed my arm away.
“I did not ask for you to save me!” She snapped, lifting herself out of the pool.
“No, you prefer to torture yourself!”
“I was thinking!”
“Thinking and drowning!” I hollered at her as I got out too. Soaked and pissed I’d bothered AGAIN, I found myself cursing her in Italian. “I swear to God, Donatella, if I didn’t love you I’d throw you back into the water and hold your head down!”
“I’d like to see you try!” she hollered back in Italian as well. “You keep trying to save me! I am beyond your help, so go! Like everyone else, GO!”
Moving to the towel rack, I grabbed one before marching back over to her, placing the damn thing on her head.
“I’m not going to marry you. I’m not going to be with you. I told you, you aren’t what I want.” Was it wrong her words didn’t even sting anymore? I was that used to them.
“You are going to marry me. You are going to be with me. I am what you need,” I replied, drying her hair and face. “Ethan is married…finally. That means you only have me.”
“You’re forgetting a brother.”
“The one who ran away.” I snickered. “I didn’t forget. He just doesn’t count.”
“You are far too smug.” She pushed me and the towel away, walking to get her own. “And waiting for my brothers to be out of the picture to try to take me is weak. I don’t do weak.”
Is that what she thinks?
“Dona.” I laughed, using that same towel to dry myself off. “I would have confronted Ethan at any time. Ethan isn’t my problem. You are.”
“And how so?”
“What are you doing?” I hated seeing her like this. She was the one being weak, not me. “You always knew Ethan was going to get married. That Wyatt would get married someday too. You always knew this day would come. So why are you acting like—”
“Because he didn’t tell me!” she screamed. “He, like Father, like Mother, like every other goddamn person, dictated to me what the plan was and expected me to just go with it. The pool house isn’t where things go to die, it’s where I go to die! I was seven when my mother picked me out of bed and threw me into the pool and told me to swim! For hours I swam until I felt like my arms were on fire. Why? Because she thought I was weak. So I pushed myself every day for hours. And one night I was swimming and Ethan came to tell me Mother was dead. And Father told me not to get soft. I pushed myself hard and then one day while I was swimming Father came and told me I was going to a boarding school for the next four years. They threw my life into chaos with no warning, with no respect, and then called me a brat for being upset!”
Her chest rose and fell over and over again as she tried to calm herself down, running her fingers through her wet hair. “Ethan wants to get an ex-convict, that’s his choice. But he didn’t trust me enough to let me know…until the day before he got married? I have plans too. I have shit I need to do too and when I don’t know what is going on I look like a fucking idiot.”
“Dona—”
“I come here.” She pointed aroun
d her at the pool house. “To drown myself. To kill the Dona of that moment and restart. To re-plan, to rethink, to re-everything. Excuse me if I’m a little brattish as I do so. But I didn’t ask for you to come in here with me. I did not ask for your love—”
“That’s where you are wrong,” I cut her off, too stunned to yell. For a second I almost believed she was hurt that her brother had moved on. No, at the end of the day, she was still scheming for herself. “You did ask me to love you.”
“When did you get that idea?”
“September 8th,” I reminded her, even though from the look in her eyes I did not have to. “The night before you left for Italy. After your brothers, your aunts, uncles, and everyone else begged your father not to send you and failed. You called me. You told me I better not fall in love with anyone because—”
“Shut up.” She glared. “I remember. You don’t have to say it.”
“Because I belonged to Donatella Aviela Callahan.”
She frowned. “I was fifteen and stupid.”
“You are selfish, power hungry, frantic one moment and cold the next. You drink far too much wine and break even more glasses—”
“You’re supposed to add positive traits in there—”
“And you always have to get a word in even when we are legitimately talking about you.” I laughed. “I could write a novel on all the shit you do that annoys me. However, the one thing you will never be is stupid. You weren’t then and you aren’t now. You told me to love no one else and for over a decade I’ve done just that. So if you want me to stop, tell me to stop.”
Her green eyes bunched together as if she didn’t understand me. “You could stop loving me if I simply told you to? When did you become so fickle—”
“Don’t pussy foot it, Dona. You want me to go, then say it. Tell me to go find another woman…someone, as you say, on par with me.”
I could see she was going to call my bluff and so I kissed her, like I’d been dying to since she came back, wrapping my arms around her and hugging her body to mine. And only when she kissed me back did I pull away again.
