Page 101 of When Hearts Surrender

Breaking apart for air, I whisper, “So no. I don’t believe in the curse, but I can understand that you do. All I’m asking is for you to be brave with me…for me. SoIcan live with no regrets.”

Maxwell’s eyes trail over my face, his hand cupping my cheek, and his nostrils flare. “Year of yeses,” he rasps, and I smile.

“Yes. Year of yeses. It’s a great attitude. You should try it sometime.”

“I don’t deserve you, Belle.”

I grin. “Few people do, so you should be honored I want to have my next adventures with you.”

He lets out a laborious sigh. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try.”

My heart hiccups—he’s going to try…for me! My lips curve into a big smile.

“That’s all I’m asking for. The attempt at it.” I watch his eyes widen, his lips twitching at my near verbatim response to what he said to me at The Menagerie when we were negotiating the terms of our marriage.

“Can you tell me more about the curse?” I ask as I lay my head on his chest again. He stiffens and I add, “I want to understand it better so I can understand you.”

He doesn’t reply for a few seconds. The room is quiet, other than the faint sounds of the wind outside and the snapping of logs in the fireplace. “We don’t know when it started…this curse. But our guess was somewhere around the late eighteen hundreds, based on the diaries and letters we have from the family.”

Maxwell resumes his stroking of my arm. “There were many stories as to how it began. Some people said it was because the fates didn’t like the rich. And so, those who flaunt their prosperity were marked with death.”

He presses a kiss on my shoulder, and my skin blooms under his caress. “That’s one version of it, which sounds silly, I know. But the more popular version is that one of my forefathers betrayed a woman who loved him and since then, it’s been bad luck for the first sons. Centuries of bad luck. But my father and I have looked into this, searched the archives…we couldn’t find any proof of this betrayal.”

“Then why does your family think there’s truth to this curse? Deaths happen to all families.”

“For every single generation of Andersons since the late eighteen hundreds, the only wives of the eldest sons to have survived into old age were the ones from marriages that weren’t love matches. Bad things would happen unless the eldest son married and had children—heirs to pass the curse down to.”

The guilt is heavy in his voice as he continues, “Some men would seek love outside of marriage, but it’s just wrong, to cheat on your wife. It’s something I’d never do.” His eyes are solemn and I understand now what he told me at The Menagerie. Maxwell is a man of honor. Fidelity is a core value to him.

He continues, “It’s a mind fuck, you know? To keep people from dying, I have to get married to have a son who I’m dooming to the same fate as me. But what’s the alternative? Letting other people I love die? I’lljust have to teach him my ways—teach him he can have a fulfilling life without a loving marriage. There’s more to life than love.”

My heart pinches at the forlorn expression on his face. If he truly believes in the curse, which I know he does, this must’ve been a hard decision to make.

Maxwell shakes his head and sighs. “Dad told me his marriage with Mom began as an arrangement as well. They respected each other’s boundaries and became friends over the course of a few years. Things were wonderful here then. Mom loved art—operas, musicals, painting, literature. My classmates’ parents would leave them with nannies or at boarding schools, but not Mom. Despite our wealth, she gave us all her love and attention, taught us so many things. But…”

His eyes take on a faraway look as his brows pinch.

“Oh, Maxwell.” I throw my arms around his neck, hoping my body weight and heat will comfort him.

His voice roughens. “It’s impossible not to love her, Belle. And she and Dad eventually fell in love. Dad told me, within a year of them confessing their love to each other, she died. A series of random accidents happened before then—a flowerpot from a trellis nearly falling on her head, taking the wrong medicine when she was sick. Things like that.”

Maxwell’s voice is thick as he pauses, clearly overwrought with the memories. “Eventually, one of these incidents killed her. A fall down the stairs. A freak accident with Rex’s marbles. And life was never the same. You may look at Rex and think he’s always happy, but he was the one who found her, the one who beat himself up. That’s why he’s always the one who acts out among us.”

“But it’s not your fault. Any of you. Rex, your father.”

“Dad doesn’t think so. He blames himself for loving her and for accepting her love, even to this day. And later, I found out these series of incidents, all of a different nature, happened shortly before the women died. It was a pattern. Dad eventually tried to find love again, but he wouldn’t marry the woman, and we all know how that turned out.”

I whisper, “Grace and Taylor’s mom.”

From what I’d heard from my friends who found out their lineage not long ago, their mom and Linus had a passionate affair, but she left because she refused to be a kept woman in the shadows. She was heartbroken for most of her life until she died in a car accident shortly after Grace met Steven.

Maxwell adds, “While I don’t think their mom’s death is because of the curse…so many years have passed, after all, but it’s still shitty luck. Horrible things happen to the women loved by the oldest Anderson son.”

How do I get through to a man who has lost so much? I can hear the conviction in his voice—the fear, the regret, the helplessness. How do I get him to step into the light with me and see reason?

“But accidents can truly happen without supernatural explanations.” My response is feeble, even to my ears.

Maxwell sits up and faces me, his eyes somber. He clasps my hand in his, as if needing my touch for whatever he’s going to tell me next.

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