Wished

Chapter 10

10

Max shifts his Vanquish into fourth gear, slinging us down the road, speeding us along the lake toward his estate. We’re low to the road, hugging the curves, drifting in an “S” as the road winds through the countryside.

The purring roar of the V12 fills the interior as thickly as the tension riding off Max. The interior is close, tight, intimate. The leather seat is impossibly soft and it vibrates warmly beneath my bare legs. I’m held tight against the seat as Max shifts, maneuvering the curves of the lake. The car feels as if it’s being pulled by a locomotive engine. Its power rumbles through the interior, and I can’t help but watch Max grip the shifter as he guides the car through traffic and into the wide-open country.

The air conditioning fans the scents of fresh cut grass and newly leafed spring forests. The flickering of shade and leaves flashes over the windshield in sparks of sun and dark. It paints my bare legs, and I watch Max’s hand on the shifter. His grip is firm and reminds me of the way he holds my wrist, both in real life and in my imagination.

“Why married?” he asks, looking over at me.

I glance back at him, but he’s staring straight ahead, guiding the car through a series of curves following the sinuous shore of Lake Geneva.

When I admitted my wish back at the office he didn’t say anything. Instead he grabbed my hand and dragged me out of there. His assistant called after us, but he only said, “I’m taking the day off.” He covered his surprise when several people greeted me as Mrs. Barone on our way to his car. The only way I knew it disturbed him was in the way his hand tightened on mine.

But still he didn’t ask questions, he just tugged me to his car, opened the door, said, “Get in,” and then sped out of the parking garage.

He flicks on his turn signal and pulls onto his estate’s long drive. The house looms ahead, a tall, barren, shadowed behemoth.

“Anna?” He finally glances over at me. When he tilts his head his dark hair falls over his eye, hiding his gaze.

I sigh and stare out the window at the estate drawing closer. I didn’t notice it when I ran out this morning, but there are quite a few things different about the exterior. The stone has been scrubbed clean, and now, instead of a dull, somber appearance, the fa?ade glistens in the sun. Before the windows seemed to cast a lonely gaze over the water; now they sparkle merrily, reflecting the sky.

Yesterday the grounds were varying shades of green—thick ivy, lush grass, nodding ferns at the edge of the evergreen forest—but now islands of bright color are strung around the house like pearls on a string. A bed of pink flax. An island of sunny orange marigolds. A river of purple and red tulips stretching toward the sun. An ocean of daffodils waving beneath the front walls. It’s a rainbow of flowers, capturing every color God made.

“Wow,” I whisper.

Max looks forward again, back at the road and the estate. He lets out a surprised exhale. The car slows as he lifts his foot, and the engine noise settles into a soft purr.

“It almost looks like a home,” he says, his mouth twisting.

“It is a home. You live there,” I say, although I know what he means. A house isn’t always a home. Sometimes it’s just the place you stay until you’re strong enough to leave.

Max gives me a wry look. “Yes. I live there.” Then he asks, “Why marriage, Anna?”

The limestone gravel crunches under the tires and I squirm in my seat. My skin is warm. There’s a cavernous emptiness in my center and an embarrassed niggling in my chest begging me not to admit the truth.

I can’t tell him.

Hi, Max. I fell in love with you three years ago. You probably don’t remember it, but it was life-changing for me. I made the wish because I’m an idiot and for some reason I thought we were meant to be together.

I know what his reaction would be. Disbelief. Disgust. Anger. Antipathy. Take your pick. One or all of the above. The reaction that won’t occur is “I love you too.”

So, instead of telling the truth, I give a reflection of the truth. “I wanted to know what it was like.”

He looks over at me quickly. “What what was like?”

In his question is the answer.

As he pulls the car to a stop, parking it in front of the door, I say, “This.” I gesture at the glittering estate, at the interior of the car, at Max. “I’ve been cleaning your house for three years. I’ve been looking from the outside in. I wanted to know what being married to you was like.”

The words beat their wings against the walls of my chest. A partial truth. A distortion of what’s real.

He cuts the engine and the car descends into a heavy silence. Max stares straight ahead, taking in the new shine on the gray stone and the patchwork of colorful flowers dotting the lawn.

“You made a wish on a necklace to see what it was like to live in my house instead of clean it? You saw me, thought I had a nice place, and decided you wanted it? And what the hell, while you were at it, you’d take me too?” His jaw clenches and his hands tighten on the steering wheel.

My stomach drops at his accusation. It doesn’t feel right, having him think that of me. But what’s worse: Max thinking I wanted a Cinderella moment, or Max knowing I fell in love with him years ago and never quite got over it?

The first, he’ll think I’m greedy and perhaps dislike me.

The second, he’ll think I’m na?ve and he’ll pity me.

So instead of denying his accusation, I lift a shoulder in a careful shrug.

“Well,” he says, “I’m sorry to be the one to disillusion you, but the saying is true. Not all that glitters is gold.”

At that he swings open his door and says, “Let’s go.”