Caught by Emma Louise
Chapter Twenty-Five
By the time the weekend has arrived, I've almost convinced myself that I'd overreacted to the note that arrived at the office. I braced, like I was waiting for the bogeyman to jump out from a dark corner. But there's nothing. No more letters. No ghosts from the past come to haunt me. I can't work out who, or what, was responsible for it, but I'm choosing to pretend the letter never appeared on my desk.
Do I feel awful for keeping it from Max? Absolutely. But after years of working to forget where I came from and what I did, I’m keen to go back there, unless I absolutely have to. I'll be taking that secret to the grave if I have my way. And by the look of things, I was right not to tell him because there’s been no more contact anyway.
"Mommy! Look at dis one! Can we keep him?" Cassidy calls out to me from the front of the boat. When she gave the picture of her with the fish to Max, he told her all about his brother’s boat and how he and the guys come out to fish sometimes. I thought her face was going to split from how huge her smile was.
So here we are, spending a warm Saturday afternoon on the lake. Max and Cass are up front, fishing poles in the water. I'm taking the opportunity to relax in the sun by laying on a blanket at the back of the boat with a book in my hand. I’m staying as far away from the stinky bait and the ugly looking fish they keep trying to show me.
I watch as Max gently takes the small fish from Cass' hand and throws it back into the water. I don't hear what he says to her, but I do hear the loud giggle that explodes from my daughter. The carefree sound warms every part of me, but also reminds me of all the things she's missed out on over the years by not having a decent male role model in her life.
Putting down the book, I go and sit closer so I can snap a few pictures with my phone. Cass is standing at the edge of the boat, hands on hips and lips pursed in concentration as Max patiently shows her how to bait her fishing line again. For someone who was so short and impatient with me when we first met, he’s the polar opposite with Cass. He’s calm with her, patient when he has to show the same things over and over again. He’s relaxed and charming, and just watching him with her makes my ovaries ache as I imagine him with a baby of our own. We aren’t ready for that, and it may not be something Max would even want, but the thoughts are there, nonetheless.
"Did your daddy show you how to do that?" she asks him innocently. Max doesn't look up from what he's doing when he answers.
"Yeah, he used to take me and my brother out all the time when we were little just like you."
"Oh!" she says, like she's happy with that answer. And then she continues, unknowingly giving me a kick in the gut. "I don't have a daddy. Or a brother." Max flicks his eyes to me, and I see the questions held there. He wants to know who her dad is, where he is, why he isn’t around. He won’t ask in front of her, but the question is coming, sooner than I'd like it to.
* * *
Luckily for me, Max doesn't bring up the conversation like I expect him to. He is his usual attentive, affectionate self that night. He grills the fish that they caught earlier. Cass crashes early from the busy day she's had. Once she’s down for the night, we sit on the back deck. Max brings me wine, keeps the glass topped up, and we enjoy the warm evening in quiet togetherness. Something that I genuinely appreciate about being with him, there’s never any pressure to do anything other than just be when I’m around him.
When the sun goes down, he takes me by the hand, leads me to his bedroom, and spends all night quietly worshipping me and my body.
I should have known then, as I fell into a blissful sleep held tightly in his arms, that it was too good to be true. I should have known that nothing good ever lasts, not for me anyway.