Page 44 of Taboo
And my heart fills with warmth at her love for me and Jason. Leaning back, my hand finds hers under the table. I give it a quick squeeze. Her fingers are warm and soft. She squeezes back, her touch like a promise.
The meal ends, and we head to the rink. We rent skates from a counter cluttered with laces and disinfectant spray. Jason’s clumsy, his skates wobbling, but Amelia takes his hand and guides him onto the polished wood. Her movements are so fluid and graceful. I don’t join them straightaway.
Instead, I lean against the railing, watching, my breath catching as she glides, her pink dress flaring slightly, her hair swinging like a golden curtain. She’s a beautiful skater, just like when she was younger. She laughs, helping Jason find his balance, and he giggles, his face happier than I’ve seen him in months. My heart swells, a fierce love for her, for them, and it’s violent, this feeling, a rage at the life I’ve built without her.
I don’t understand it—how can she do this to me?
How can just a few days with her upend everything?
I realize my life’s totally different with her in it, alive in a way it hasn’t been ever since I left her. Jason’s different, too, laughing, open, his shell cracking under her warmth. I don’tremember hearing laughter like this in our house, not from him, in fact, not even with Sara, and it kills me. It’s like a sharp ache that makes me question everything.
Why is he so quiet with us?
Why is our home so still, so empty of this joy?
I watch Amelia spin, her smile radiant, Jason clinging to her hand, and I’m so angry—at her father, at myself, at the world that kept her from me. I love her more every second, and I’m starting to care less and less about the consequences of us being together. This, I acknowledge, is a very dangerous shift. It scares me, but I can’t stop it.
“Max, come on!” Amelia calls, her voice full of laughter, pulling me from my thoughts. She waves, her eyes sparkling under the rink’s flashing lights, and Jason echoes her words, his face split into a wide grin.
I shake my head, a grin tugging at my lips despite the storm inside. “I will, but I’m good just watching for now,” I call back.
“Spoil sport,” she mouths and sails away with my son, and my eyes don’t leave her, tracing every move, every laugh.
She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and I’m falling, deeper, harder, with no way back.
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
AMELIA
As we pull into the driveway back at the house, all I can think is how deliriously happy I am. My heart is so full it feels like it might literally explode. I don't know how I can possibly contain this wild, reckless joy pulsing through me.
Memories of the skating rink linger on—Jason’s giggles, his small hand in mine as we glided harmoniously. Max’s eyes were on me, dark and burning, watching every move like I was his whole world. My skin hums, alive with the memory of his gaze, the way he squeezed my hand, a secret promise under the table.
I steal a glance at him now, his profile stern in the dashboard’s glow, his jaw tight, his hands gripping the wheel. He’s fighting the same ugly demons I am, and it makes me ache. But their lure is such a sweet, dangerous pull that I find it impossible to resist.
As we climb out, the night air is cool, scented with cut grass and jasmine from the garden. Jason is sleepy. He drags his feet, his takeout snacks dangling from one hand.
“That was fun,” he mumbles. I smile, my heart swelling for this boy who’s wormed his way into me.
“Yeah, it was,” I agree.
Max locks the car, his boots crunching gravel, and joins us. His hand brushes my lower back, and it’s a quick, hidden touch that sends a spark up my spine. I glance at him. His eyes catch mine, and it is smoldering with lust. We head inside, and the whole house is quiet and still. I love it, especially with the moonlight spilling across the marble. The fact is the house is ours—empty and free.
No staff and ... no Sara.
“Let’s get you to bed, buddy,” Max says. He scoops Jason up, his small body unresisting against his father’s chest, and I follow. I watch as Max sets him down on his bed. “Go brush your teeth.” He ambles off, and both of us drink each other in as we wait.
When he comes back, I kneel beside the bed and help him take off his sneakers. I pull the duvet over him.
“Do you want me to read you a story?” I ask, brushing a curl from his forehead. His beautiful eyes, so like Max’s, blink slowly, heavy with sleep.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, clutching his bear. Max sits on the edge of the bed as I grab a book from his shelf—about a fox who outsmarts a wolf—and read. I keep my voice low and soothing and soon his breath deepens. His eyelids start drooping.
When he falls asleep, neither Max nor I move. I look up at him. “That’s a damn fine boy you have here, Max,” I whisper.
Max swallows, then just nods. We linger, watching Jason sleep. I know I will miss this child. I‘ve grown to love him as if he were my own.
