“It’s one thing to say it, but it’s another to show it,” she whispered, pulling her hand away.
“See, that’s our problem.” I groaned as I sat forward. “I’m trying all the time. I am fucking trying, but she always goes back a step and blames me for everything in the past. I know I screwed up, but I feel like we’re never going to get past that point.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t!” she yelled at me, and I felt the sudden urge to strangle her.
“Is that what you really want, Coraline? Do you want a divorce?” Dr. Bell asked her and I felt my heart slowly sink. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at her. It was worse when she didn’t answer.
“Divorce, means something completely different in this family, Doc.” She replied, with a hint of sarcasm he didn't get.
“What do you mean?” He asked.
She didn’t say anything.
“Either way I don’t think you want to get a divorce,” the doctor answered for her. “I think you want to make him suffer because you suffered. You want him to feel everything you felt. You know he loves you and you love him, but you’re still angry.”
That got my attention.
“Maybe.” She frowned and we all fell silent.
He was good at letting us be silent. The motherfucker got paid by the hour anyway.
“Fine, I’m still angry and hurt. He doesn’t just get to come in with his charm and make it all better. He just wants to wipe the slate clean and pretend he never did anything!” She pointed at me.
“No, I don’t! I want to wipe the slate clean so I can stop sleeping in the fucking guest bedroom and hold my wife again. I want to wipe the slate clean so we can move on! That doesn’t mean I want to forget. I don’t think I could ever forget the seven months of blue balls and short jabs you’ve taken at me. You want me to suffer, Coraline? Well I’m suffering! I have a beautiful, amazing wife who won’t let me hold her, who won’t even speak to me! I’m suffering!” I yelled.
I stood up.
“I’m done for the day, Doc.” And with that, I left.
CORALINE
“I know you’re hurt, Coraline. But you have to let go of it or let go of your husband, because it’s not fair to you or him,” Doctor Bell said to me and I just stared at my wedding ring.
I didn’t know he was suffering. He seemed fine, always happy to see me when I stepped out in the hall. I was tired of this too…
“Thanks, Doc. See you next week,” I said as I walked out.
The moment I got down to the car, the driver opened the door for me. Declan sat with his head up and eyes closed.
“Clean slate,” I said, taking his hand.
He looked to me. “What?”
“It’s time for a clean slate, and starting from now, there is one,” I whispered.
“Clean slate,” he repeated in shock as I sat on to his lap to kiss him.
“God, I’ve missed you,” he muttered, as he wrapped his arms around me.
It was going to take baby steps, but it was time.
SEVEN
“All good things are difficult to achieve; and bad things are very easy to get.”
—Confucius
LIAM
“Please, tell me I heard you wrong.” I was doing my best to stay calm, but it seemed the world was on piss-the-fuck-out-of-Liam mode.
Sedric sighed, pouring himself a glass of brandy. “I’m afraid not, son. Apparently your grandfather will be making a stop in the States.”
“But grandfather hates America,” Declan stated the obvious, making me want to throw my glass at his face.
Mel leaned against the desk, forcing me to calm down with her eyes. She could do that now. Her own little superpower; where she could control what I was feeling with just her beautiful brown eyes. But she couldn’t understand how much I hated my grandfather and how much he hated me. I didn’t even want to give him the satisfaction of talking about him.
“When will he be here?” Neal asked, not bothered at all. Out of all of he was the only one our grandfather “liked”. If he had it his way, our grandfather would have killed me a long time ago.
“I don’t give a fuck, he isn’t staying here! He can take his old motherfucking cane and shov—”
“Shove it where, grandson?” The devil himself said, dressed in a ten thousand dollar suit, as my mother opened the door for him and his three bodyguards.
My father, Neal, Declan and even my own mother stood up straighter, each one of them gave my grandfather the respect his title commanded. I may be the one who ran the Callahan clan now, but my grandfather was the one who built it. He was the original. Before him, we were a bunch of street thugs. He created our empire after being a drug runner for a boss much older and wiser than himself. One day, he snapped and took an ax to the motherfucker. War broke out. My grandfather had three very simple skills: killing, thinking and stealing. If he wanted something, he could have it.