Chapter Twenty-Six

DURANGO WALTERS

As I gaze out the window frames, surrounded by crumbled glass from Max's fit of fury, I find myself at odds with each emotion circling through the cyclone of my mind. The full moon shines down, greeting the ripples of Horseshoe Bay in a soft cadence much slower than the rhythm of my heart. It is, however, a reminder that even in the darkest moments, there's always a sliver of light. A sliver of hope. My feet protected by shoes, I approach the railing surrounding the balcony for a breath of fresh winter air. And my eyes close in silent contemplation.

The wind picks up, rustling a few shards of glass loose that were once stuck at the top of the frame. They resemble exactly how I feel at this current moment. Leaving Max to wander off into the Canadian night alone was probably the right thing to do. I know that for sure. It's what I'd advise any of my clients' parents in the face of a fight. But it doesn't make the emptiness any less crushing.

This guilt accosts me greatly, and I feel it heavily. I trashed Brogan's heart, even though my doctor gave me the green light to drink wine sparingly. I'm not some reckless kid with no self-control. I'm not an alcoholic—well—I suppose that's a touchy subject for him. Suffice it to say, I understand what moderation means. Or at least, I thought I did.

Perhaps that's where Max and I differ. Maybe the years between us aren't just a number, rather a chasm of experience, of understanding. But damn it, I love him. And now, I'm left wondering if that love is enough to bridge this gap and heal our wounds. Can we pick up the shattered pieces of our future?

Brisk wisps of wind rustle through my hair as I get lost in the darkened, rippling waters. Years of experience whisper that Max's reaction, while hurtful, is understandable. However, this doesn't lessen the sting of my secret, of how I hurt him at the crux of his existence. But deep down, I know we're meant to be. The thud under my left ribs proclaims it so. Time will heal this wound, I'm sure of it.

A knock at the door inside breaks the silence. "Housekeeping!"

I drag myself over the sea of glass, broken remnants of what I wanted to be a fun getaway, to answer. I know what awaits on the other side of this door. The mess Max left behind, a physical manifestation of our shattered peace. Patting my eyes dry may not do any good since the tears keep coming. However, I refuse to answer this door with a wet face.

"Man, what the hell happened?" Shane, my old friend, peers around the door with a look of shock. "The fuck?"

"Oh, Shane," I reply exasperatingly, burying my face in my hands. "This is not how I pictured our reunion."

He steps inside, appearing grim. "Yeah, I won't lie," he affirms, wagging his finger. "It wasn't the most pleasant goodbye. I saw him storm out of the resort."

"I'll be okay," I attempt to sound convincing. The truth is, I won't. Not right now, anyway. "Just let me know how I can help with this."

The other part of the truth is, I feel lost and utterly helpless. There's no way I can help pick up the broken glass on the floor when each splinter of glass will be a painstaking reminder of the pain I've caused Maxwell. I sit on the edge of the bed, my back to Shane as he surveys the damage with his phone. A moment later, my eyes fall on the object Max threw before marching out into the hallway, slamming the door shut behind him. It's a small brown box resembling a Christmas gift, a bitter reminder of what could have been.

My fingers tremble as I scoop it from a pillow, the wrapping paper crinkling under my heavy touch. It's a tangible symbol of his love for me and the future he envisioned. Now, it seems all that remains is just another casualty of this war zone I've created.

Shane finishes documenting the wreckage, his phone camera snapping away with a shutter click every two seconds. "This will not be cheap," he remarks. "But our insurance should cover it, eh?"

I turn to him, a surge of anger replacing the tears I've shed. "No, charge him every dollar," my head wavers. "Just because I love him and you're my friend doesn't mean he gets a free pass. Max is a grown man. He needs to face the consequences of his actions."

Shane nods with a reluctant grimace. "Fair enough. That's about all he said on his way out, by the way. ‘Sorry about the window, man, just charge whatever you need to my AMEX card.' "

My eyes roll straight back with slight indignation. "Yeah, he's got the money for it."

The thought of that stings like a bitch. Money, another thing that sets us apart. I've always lived a modest life, scraping by, raising Gage with his special needs. Max, with his wealth and easy generosity, makes me feel—inadequate. I've never been in a relationship where money wasn't a shared concern, where one person simply took care of everything. It's a new dynamic. And one I'm not sure how to navigate.

Shane's phone blares the ‘Parks and Recreation' theme song, and he steps into the hallway, signaling for a moment. "Be right back," he mouths apologetically.

Now I'm left alone with my thoughts and the broken pieces of my guilt. But even in this chaos, a flicker of determination ignites with me. I can fix this. I will fix this. I'll make this all better. I'm a goddamned trained psychologist. Mending fences is what I get paid to do half the time. Now it's up to me to build Max and me a future where love and understanding outweigh the scars of our past.

Nodding, I motion for Shane to go take his call while my fingers fumble with the brown package. If things had gone as planned, I'd probably be opening this with Max right this very minute. When Shane leaves, I lift the lid to reveal a gift card for a men's apparel store and a handwritten note.

Babe,

Merry Christmas. This isn't your only gift from me, but I wanted to give you one of your gifts while in Vancouver for the weekend. I noticed your closet is barren and the things you have are worn down. So this is enough to get several new outfits and have them tailored specially for you… my special guy. Now look back up at my face and kiss me, you big sappy gorilla.

Love, Maxwell Florian Williams

I raise my head as it says, but there's no Max to kiss. No loving gaze staring back into my soul. The note leaves another pang of my undying guilt to dive deeper and deeper into my chest. Tears stream from my face, but my anger simmers beneath the surface. How could he do this? How could he leave me reeling with my secret, or about this gift meant for a distinct reality?

But the anger doesn't last long. It's washed away by the love that still beats strong as the day in June when I received it. I know this pain, this distance, is only temporary. We'll find our way back to each other, I'm sure of it. Our heartbeats combined, under one roof, a home that transcends all boundaries. For now, the uncertainty consumes my conscience like a question mark on the horizon for our love.