Forty two

Forty two
Fallon
The mansion felt colder when Reid wasn’t in it.
Not that I cared.
I kept telling myself that.
The silence was a blessing — no arguments, no clipped conversations, no lingering looks I didn’t want to think about. No pretending. Just peace.
And yet, the emptiness pressed down harder than it should have. It stretched through every inch of the house, filling the polished rooms and pristine hallways with a quiet that felt heavy instead of restful. The house was too big, too elegant — and without the sharp edge of Reid’s presence, it felt like a museum. Beautiful and hollow.
But that was a good thing. It was what I wanted.
At least that’s what I told myself as I wandered into the kitchen for a late-night snack. The clock on the wall read just after midnight, and the cool marble floors sent a shiver up my spine. I moved on instinct, grabbing a glass from the cabinet and a bottle of water from the fridge, trying not to think about the ache of the quiet.
I shouldn’t miss his voice.
Or the sound of his footsteps down the hall.
Or the way the room shifted when he entered it.
I shouldn’t. And I didn’t.
At least — that’s what I told myself.
“Evening, Mrs. Callahan.”
I jumped, nearly dropping the water. Spinning around, my heart thudding, I found Margaret — one of the senior housekeepers — smiling warmly as she wiped down the counter.
“Margaret!” I clutched my chest, laughing a little. “You scared me.”
“Sorry, dear,” she said, though the twinkle in her eyes told me she wasn’t sorry at all. “Couldn’t sleep?”
“Something like that,” I murmured, leaning against the counter. The cool glass bottle pressed against my palms, grounding me.
Margaret worked quietly for a moment, the sound of her cleaning cloth rhythmic and soothing. She’d been with the Callahans for years — long before I entered this picture — and there was something comforting about her no-nonsense presence. She was in her late fifties, with kind eyes and the rare ability to make this house feel just a little bit warmer.
“You miss him, don’t you?” She asked.
The words were soft, casual — but they landed like a lightning strike. My heart stumbled.
“What?”
She glanced up, amused. “Mr. Callahan. You’ve been quieter since he left.”
I scoffed. “I’ve been busy.”
Her smile was knowing. “Of course you have.”
I took a sip of water, hoping it would wash down the lump in my throat. “It’s… peaceful when he’s away.”
Margaret raised a brow. “Is it?”
I didn’t answer. Because if I did, I might’ve said no. And that wasn’t an option.
Margaret set her cloth aside, folding it neatly. “He’s a good man, you know.”
I blinked, startled. “Reid?”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” she teased. “He’s not the easiest man, I’ll admit. But he’s fair. Loyal. Takes care of his own.”
That threw me. The Reid I knew was sharp edges and distance — all business, no warmth. The man who sent six-word texts and treated me like a transaction.
“You don’t believe me,” Margaret said, watching me closely. “But I’ve known him since he was a boy. And I can tell you — there’s more to him than most people see.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that.
“Sometimes,” she continued gently, “people like him… they just need to be loved right.”
My chest tightened. “Margaret—”
“I’m just saying,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “You’re good for him. Anyone with eyes can see that.”
The words hit harder than they should have. I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “It’s not that kind of marriage.”
She tilted her head, studying me with a quiet patience. “Isn’t it?”
I wanted to argue. To tell her this was a contract, nothing more. But the words wouldn’t come. Because the truth was more complicated than I wanted to admit.
And that scared me.
Later, in the safety of my room, I stared at my reflection in the mirror — Margaret’s words still echoing in my head.
He’s a good man.
He just needs to be loved right.
But that wasn’t my job.
I wasn’t here to fix Reid Callahan. I wasn’t here to save him or soften him or figure out what lay behind those walls he kept so tightly in place.
And I definitely wasn’t here to fall in love with him.
This marriage was temporary. A means to an end. We’d agreed on that from the start.
And when it was over, I planned to walk away completely unscathed.
So why did it feel like the walls I’d built around my heart were already starting to crack?