It has to be you.

“Fuck! Oh, Babe, yes.” Maisie cries. “Right there. Right. Fucking. There.”

You thrust into her, hold inside her as she rides out another orgasm.

“Oh, shit, Babe. What’s gotten into you tonight?” Maisie asks when she comes down enough to form the sentence.

No way are you telling her the truth.

“It’s just good to feel like this is finally resolved.” You say as you start moving again.

Maisie pulls you to her, kisses you hard then bites your lip. “Hmmm.” She moans breathily, “I like it.” You push her onto the bed, flip her over, start fucking her doggy style. You love your wife. You love Maisie, you always have. But right now, you don’t want to see her face.

You reach up, grab her hair. She’s into it enough she’ll enjoy you pulling her hair. Her moans confirm your thoughts. But of course you were right. You’ve known Maisie your whole life, and you’ve been married for over a decade. You know how she works.

Just like you know she’s going to go back, have Holly read the note. It will be someplace public, someplace she can celebrate with Holly without having to explain why. Probably Fun-Land Arcade. Skee-Ball and music. The bartender there knows her and she makes really good Manhattans. She’ll bring the whole family, Maisie’s little party for finding a way to protect her sister.

Maisie shudders again, she’s really into it tonight. It’s fine by you, you aren’t even remotely close to being done. You agreed to this plan to protect Holly. You know you shouldn’t be angry about it and yet you are. You know you shouldn’t be possessive of Holly and yet you are.

Thinking about someone being Holly’s master pissed you off enough when it was just one possible route. But now it was real, it was going to happen. You were going to participate, likely distract the others so Maisie could give her the letter and have her read it without anyone else asking questions. That thought drives you to pound harder into your wife, a woman you both loved and in some ways hated in this moment.

“Unnnggg.” Maisie moaned as she rapidly approached another orgasm. You were thrusting down into her, hitting that spot pretty hard, approaching the end. Pushing Maisie over the top, maybe make her pass out. It’s a bit sick to think that being upset with her made you want to fuck her better, make her cum harder. It was probably a power dynamic thing.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!” Maisie practically shrieked as she started to shake. It was here, the moment you were seeking. You press hard into her, angle as far as you can. You reach around her and attack her clitoris, feel her shake in response as her words fail and she shrieks and shudders, clawing at the covers as she gushes all over you.

It’s done. She’s spent. You lift your wife up and place her on the bed, cover her in the sheet you had thrown on the chair. You kiss her cheek gently before you walk away. You go to the closet, grab a robe, walk out to the patio. You look out at the beach, the water, the moon. You’re in a different world than Atlantic City, and yet the beach, the sky, it feels the same. The moon is angled differently and the constellations have shifted. The sky is clearer here and you can even see the Milky Way, but in all the ways that matter, it is the same water, the same sky as New Jersey.

You’re in a different world with Maisie too. It’s strange to think about it, but you were comfortable in your life. You were happy in your relationship with Maisie for the ten years you didn’t have a voice. It was just you, Maisie, and Claire then. The world has changed so much since you found out you still could command Maisie. It’s going to change more. You can see it in your wife’s eyes. If this works, if you can protect Holly from the curse, then what’s the next step? Because there has to be a next step at that point. You can’t just walk away from this. The curse is out there hurting people, hurting Maisie’s family. Innocent women’s lives destroyed because of a 400-year-old beef. If you can help them, don’t you have to?

You know Maisie wants to. You were hoping for a way to counteract the curse. Give Holly a fucking talisman to wear every day, some incense to burn and some potions to drink and BAM, she’s safe, and you would be done. Your mind goes back to riding back from the Doctors, the switch in Maisie’s demeanor when you asked her what was next. The bullshit out of the way, time to get to work look in her eyes. How far was she going to take this? The two of you got away with killing Randy, at least it seemed like it. Cases shut down were always able to be re-opened. If Maisie found other relatives in similar bad situations, what would you do? Could you kill another man like that? Could you refuse if it was bad enough?

“Shit.” You say out loud. You couldn’t help but think of Claire. You couldn’t forget what you saw that day in the cabin. You couldn’t help but know that it could happen to her. For Claire, for Holly, absolutely you’d kill for them. Hell, you didn’t even know Amber when you killed Randy. Everything you have learned since has only reinforced that you did the right thing. But if that was the right thing to do. . . Dammit you know there are others, you aren’t that naïve. You know other women have it as bad or worse than Amber. If you don’t try and help them, then what does that say about you?

You sit on the patio. You watch the sky, watch a few ships sail around. You don’t sleep, you can’t sleep. Tomorrow you fly home, shortly after Maisie will show the letter to Holly, and Holly will be claimed. The one thing she’s avoided all this time, her one battle she’s still fighting against this awful curse. You are going to take that away from her. You look back to the room. You could walk in there, tear up the letter, burn it, stop this before it starts. But that wouldn’t end it, just put you and your wife at odds with each other. Besides, you knew it was right. Holly needed protection, she deserved to be safe.

The sky starts to lighten, a pale pink on the bottom of clouds, the stars vanish. Black turns blue, orange starts to creep in. Then the first rays of light peeking up over the ocean, a new day. A new world.

“Babe.” You heard from inside. You get up, walk in and kiss your wife. Maisie stretches out, she is gorgeous. Her hair messy, her skin glistening with the sweat of last night. The curve of her breasts, the smoothness of her stomach, you smile as you look her over. She smiles back at you. “I love you.” She says half-awake. You reply in kind. You sit on the bed, brush some loose hairs off of her face. This is your life. She’s a damn good life to have too.

Your mind goes back to that day long ago, when she told you about the curse. She had you change her hair color. You can still remember that way too bright shade of pink you made her hair turn. Then the look she gave you, the words she said.

“There, now you know I wasn't kidding. Now you can forget all about the curse, neither of us ever need to talk about it again"

There’s a lot you’ve forgotten in your life, but that moment is a vivid memory. You didn’t know it then, there was no way to know it then, but she had given you a choice. You could have listened to her, never said another word about the curse, gone on with your own life. You could have given her the freedom Leroy has agreed to give Holly. You could have left Maisie alone, let her live her life away from the curse.

You didn’t choose that, you didn’t want that. You wanted Maisie. You wanted this. You touch the side of her face gently, she giggles and bites her lip, looks at you with such love in her eyes. You’d choose the same again, you’d still choose this. No matter what the future holds. This is your life.

“You gonna want breakfast before we head to the airport, Em?” You ask her.

“Ugh.” She rolls away from you, onto her side. “Five more minutes mom.” She says.

You laugh, stand up and head to the shower. You wash quickly, you have time, but not a ton of it. You dry off and open the door. As you walk back in the bedroom the smell assaults you. The smell of last night, of sweat and sex, it fills your nostrils.

Maisie moans and turns away from you. She still doesn’t want to get up. You kiss her again, on her shoulder. She tastes salty and a bit sour, but you don’t mind, you did that to her. A smack on her ass gets a yelp and a muttered complaint as she pulls the sheet up over her face.

“Pastries and coffee or something more substantial?” You ask her as you pull on a pair of slacks.

The sheet comes back down, a smile. “I’m starving.” She says.

“I bet.” You reply. “Protein or carbs?”

“Protein.” She answers.

“See you soon.” You head toward the door.

“Babe.” She says, you look back to see Maisie looking at you, her face serious, maybe a bit nervous. “I love you.” She says.

“I know.” You answer with a wink, and close the door.

It is a bit of a battle to get Maisie an omelet with lots of ham and American cheese. The man at the counter seems almost offended by what you order. You order pastries for yourself and for when Maisie sees you eating one and decides she desperately needs pastries too. You intend to wait and bring the food back, but they insist on bringing it to the room, no doubt trying to avoid customers spilling trays in the hallway. You grab two coconut tarts and head back to the room. Maisie, of course, takes one of them. She eats it quickly and gets in the shower when you tell her food will be coming soon. She’s still showering when the man arrives with breakfast.

He smiles at you when he walks in, a knowing smile as he glances over to the bed, at the well-used sheets. No wonder Maisie didn’t want to be in the room when he arrived.

“Mr. Petersen.” He says with a nod of respect after he sets your breakfast on the table. You can see him glance toward the bathroom and the sound of the shower as he leaves. You walk over, pour yourself a glass of orange juice, pick up a croissant and head back out to the patio. You take a bite of the perfectly crisp and airy pastry, a sip of the exceptionally sweet juice of the Jamaican orange, look out over the ocean. “To whatever the future holds.” You say, offering a toast to the rising sun and the new day it brings.

. . .

“I want you to do it.” Maisie says, holding the envelope out to you.

“Maisie, I. . .” You stammer.

“Please, babe, it has to be you.” Her face is serious, her tone pleading.

“But why?”

“You know why.” She says, referencing the thing neither of you ever talk directly about.

“I don’t think I can.” You answer.

“I can’t do it, Babe.” She looks like she’s about to cry. “I won’t have you look at me knowing I did it.”

“Maisie, I wouldn’t. . .”

“You wouldn’t mean to, but you would.” She says. “You’d hold it against me, and I won’t have that. I’m okay if you don’t do it, really I am. But it is you or not at all.”

You take the envelope, knowing what is inside. The letter Leroy wrote to Holly, the letter that claims her, makes him her master.

“I’m sorry babe.” She offers. You can tell she feels awful making you do this, but she’s right. Doubts and guilt are rampaging through your head just holding the damn thing. Whatever you choose you are going to resent it, and it’s better that you don’t harbor those feelings toward Maisie. Besides, you wanted to be the person to protect Holly. If anyone is going to do this, it should be you.

“Are you still getting dressed?” Claire’s voice comes from outside the door, she’s excited and impatient.

“One minute, bear.” You answer.

“That’s what you said three minutes ago.” She replies.

You open the door. “Voila!”

Claire glares at you.

“Gah, the Claire-Bear stare!” You cry and clutch your chest.

Claire laughs but still grabs your arm and starts pulling you towards the door. Maisie catches up, grabs Claire’s other arm and you walk into the hotel hallway together. Claire is practically skipping. She wasn’t happy when you told her you and Maisie were staying in a hotel and not at Maisie’s parents house. She still wanted to stay with you, but she really wanted everyone to stay in the house. That wasn’t going to happen. First off it would be cramped, but more importantly Holly was staying there, so you couldn’t.

Your brain flashed back 7 years, when Claire was almost one year old. The family vacation to that cabin in Maine. It was more than big enough for all of you, but waking up in the same place as Holly had been rough. Then that night neither of you could sleep. The two of you, sitting on the porch, talking. You kept your distance, neither of you pushed boundaries, but the tension, the atmosphere, it was too much to risk. You set down rules that night, and you’d both followed them ever since. Claire, of course, didn't know about that. She wouldn't understand if you told her. Eventually she would know, eventually she would learn the truth. You couldn’t help but wonder how she would handle it.

You arrive at the Petersen house. You hug Maisie’s mom, shake her dad’s hand, wave to Holly. She says it’s good to see you, “Likewise,” you answer. Inside you are struggling. The letter feels so heavy in your pocket, the choice you have made yet still debate. You divide up, the four women in one car, you and Maisie’s dad in the other. Boys car, girls car, it was Claire’s idea. You watch as Maisie, Claire and Holly squeeze into the back seat of Maisie’s mom’s car. Claire’s smile tells how happy she is. You let out a sigh.

“You okay, son?” Maisie’s dad asks.

You can’t tell him, how could you?

“Just a lot on my mind, John.” You answer.

“Things okay with you and Maisie?”

“They are great.” It’s mostly true.

“Hey, I get it, I wouldn’t have wanted to talk to my father-in-law about my marriage either. Just make sure you talk to somebody if you need it, okay?”

You stifle a laugh. Who could you ever talk to about your feelings? You couldn’t avoid talking about the curse if you did.

“Hard to talk about the family curse.” You reply.

“Oh.” He responds. “You could talk to Mary. She’s Maisie’s mother but she also has a lot of knowledge about the curse.”

“I’ll consider it.” You say, but you won’t do it. You aren’t going to tell Maisie’s mom about the plan, about protecting Holly. The fewer people who know, the better. Only you and Maisie know, and that is safer for everyone.

You pull into the parking lot at Funland Arcade. Claire is leading Holly toward the door. Holly looks your way, a complicated smile on her lips. You understand, just like always. The two of you connected so easily, and so deeply. Holly loved Claire, but she still wasn’t willing to be her mother, she couldn’t do that. As much as Maisie’s feelings toward the curse had shaped her life and your relationship, for Holly it was even stronger. She had been the Purest Petersen after all. Now that title was Claire's, and that was something Holly couldn’t face. Holly's smile held that love for Claire, the guilt for not being her mom, and gratitude for you bearing the burden of raising Claire for her. But there was more there too. A feeling that neither of you would acknowledge, that neither of you wanted to explore further, and yet it remained. You look to your wife, to Maisie. She studies you in return. Her face carefully guarding her feelings.

“Shit.” You think to yourself. You need to have Holly read the letter That has to happen tonight. But after that, you are going to need to have a talk with your wife. A talk you’ve been avoiding for years, a talk you hoped would never have to happen.