“This is just stuff,” I continue, gesturing vaguely around the room, the house, the whole damn castle. “What I needed was to be full in here.”
I tap my chest.
“She gave me that. And you ripped it away.”
Her hands tremble.
“I know,” she whispers. “I know. I’m sorry, Leo. I really am.”
The wordsorrysounds foreign on her tongue.
I exhale slowly, steadying myself.
“Thanks,” I say. “But if I ever get her back—or if I ever bring another girl home that I love—don’t interfere.”
Her lips part.
“Please,” I add. “Just let me figure it out.”
She nods, blinking fast.
“Maybe that’s the problem,” I go on, softer now. “We’ve spent our whole lives trying to make everything perfect. Curated. Controlled. Wrapped up with bows and polished floors and organic farm-to-table dinners.”
I shake my head.
“The more we chase perfection, the more it hides the fact that everything underneath is falling apart.”
She swallows.
“Okay,” she says after a moment. “Then… tomorrow. Let’s go out to the woods in Middletown. Like when you were little. You, me, your father. We’ll pick a tree. He’ll cut it down. We’ll bring it home.”
I almost smile.
“That’s a nice trip down memory lane, Ma.”
“I’m trying,” she says, voice thin. “What do you want me to do? Bake cookies from scratch?”
I snort despite myself. “You’d probably start a fire. You’ve never even turned on a stove.”
She lets out a small laugh. The sound is rusty, unused.
“I know you’re right,” she says. “I’ll fix this, Leo.”
I shake my head gently.
“I don’t want you to fix it. I need to find my own way. Make my own mistakes. Pick myself back up.”
She nods again, shoulders sagging under the weight of her designer coat.
“I’m sorry,” she says one last time.
Then she turns to leave.
And as she walks away down the long, echoing hallway, it hits me—I’m not the only sad, lonely person trapped inside this beautiful, empty house.
I wonder if the castle has been breaking us all along.
Chapter 21
