Page 126 of The Me I Left Behind

And lovejust mightbe the thing she had over all the other women.

Somewhere along the line, she’d confused his promise of security, his insatiable appetite for her body, for love.

Foolish.

She and Max had shared an intense, satisfying, and sometimes over-the-top sex life. Max was aggressive, pursuingher when he wanted her. Possessive of her body and jealous if other men looked at her. Maggie learned to play that up over the years. She’d dress sexy enough to please him while they were out, and alluring enough to catch the eyes of other men. Other men looking at her, or flirting with her, would ramp up Max’s temper, and his libido, and by the time they got home, the sex they shared would be explosive.

Exhaustingly, naughtily, explosive.

And she had to admit, she had loved it.

He’d had her—and he’d had any other woman he’d ever wanted.

When he wanted. How he wanted.

She knew that early on and had agreed. It was transactional, in a way. That sounded cold and impersonal, but wasn’t that really how it was? She was pregnant back then, after all, with his child. Carol. While she’dwantedhis love and affection, she’dneededhis promise of security.

As the years rolled on, the kids needed the security, too—and even though she’d wanted to leave him, she couldn’t.

Until Christmas—when she found out about the family in Australia.

To be honest, she had to wonder about this woman—this Lilly who had given Max a bonus child. What was it that drew Max to her? What was she like? Was she young, old, thin, or thick? Was she blond or brunette, or maybe even a redhead?

Did she give blow jobs? Like to be bound and cuffed? Consent to a little risqué public display of affection, occasionally?

What did she have that Max wanted so damn much that he gave her a baby for?

She’d never know.

It didn’t really matter.

Because when she’d found out about his second little family—that’s when she’d known the end was near. When he assaulted her and Carol, she knew then the end had come.

Pushing up out of her beach chair, Maggie exhaled long, as if purging all those thoughts from her body, and meandered toward the kids. Poor Chloe, the tide would take her sandcastle away, sooner rather than later, she feared.

She chatted with Chloe for a moment, then strolled off to the surf and stared out at the sea. She dropped her gaze as sea foam tickled her ankles, and a piece of seashell tumbled over her toes. Dragging her big toe into the sand, she chased the shell fragment, then bent and picked it up, washing off the sand in the surf.

It was a shell fragment, the top of a scallop, pink and a little rosy on the edges. Her favorite shell. A gift from the sea.

Smiling, she cupped it in her left hand, then pivoted and headed back toward her chair and umbrella—glancing up at the Gull Cottage. She waved at Jason and Chloe as she passed and noticed that Julia had joined Sam down the way.

At the umbrella, she picked up her cell phone from where she’d hidden it under her book and noticed a missed call.

A tap on the call log showed an international call—from Australia. Odd.

It wouldn’t be Max. She’d not spoken to him since his surprise visit in May, which was their agreement. He would stay away. She’d refrain from pressing charges. For now. All communication was through their attorneys until the divorce was final.

Suddenly, the phone vibrated again.Australia.

“Hello?”

“G’day. Maggie Oliver?” The male voice spoke with a distinct Australian accent.

“Yes?”

“My name is Adam Barnett. I’m an officer with the Queensland Police Service. Your husband is Max Oliver?”

What the hell kind of trouble is Max in now?