Chapter 322: The Honeymoon

“Catherine…” Maximilian called.

“Mmm?” She didn’t look back. She was too busy examining the ingredients on the kitchen counter.

“You’re acting rather familiar with Fitzgerald.”

Catherine paused. She couldn’t possibly have heard that correctly. Was Maximilian actually doubting her relationship with Fitzgerald? No. That couldn’t be it.

Could it be—

“Are you jealous, Maximilian?” She turned toward him with an incredulous smile.

Maximilian simply stared at her. Then he smiled. “No.”

Catherine looked at him closely, and her smile faltered. “You really are not jealous.”

Catherine wiped her hands and walked over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. Maximilian rested his hands on her shoulders.

“He’s a grown man, Catherine. You may see him as the toddler you lost, and I understand why. But other people don’t have that context.”

Catherine bit her lip.

“You don’t have to care what strangers think,” he continued. “But Samantha is different. Unless you’re willing to tell her about your connection to Fitzgerald from your previous life, how will you explain the way you treat him if she finds it strange?”

He paused. “Because, Catherine, we both know it is unusual.”

Catherine’s first instinct was to defend herself. Of course, it was. Fitzgerald was her son; at least, that was how she saw him.

But she stopped herself and thought about it rationally.

Slowly, she realized Maximilian was right.

Her relationship with Samantha had been complicated enough at times. Samantha was beginning a new relationship with Fitzgerald, and if Catherine continued treating him as though he were still the little boy she had lost, wouldn’t that make things uncomfortable for her?

Anyone would find it strange. And people would talk. Maximilian often reminded her that other people’s opinions shouldn’t matter. But this time, they did matter to Catherine. She couldn’t allow something so pure and precious to her to become something ugly in other people’s eyes.

Perhaps the prudent thing was to keep a little distance.

“Why are you always right?” she asked. She rose onto her toes and kissed him softly. “I can’t be that mother-in-law who hovers around her son as though he’s still an infant.”

“That was precisely what I was trying to say.”

Catherine laughed softly.

Maximilian knew how deeply she valued every relationship in her life. Any conflict, no matter how small, could weigh heavily on her. He hadn’t wanted to criticize her bond with Fitzgerald. He had simply wanted her to see it from the outside—to consider where misunderstandings might arise before they became problems.

And he was relieved that she had understood.

“I love you,” Catherine said.

“I love you too.”

She rested her cheek against his chest. It surprised her that she hadn’t thought of it herself.

She had been so focused on the fact that Fitzgerald was the reincarnation of her son that she hadn’t stopped to consider how their relationship might look to someone who didn’t know what she knew.

Her first instinct had been to argue with Maximilian. But she was glad he had said it.

Love wasn’t merely about hyping each other up and telling each other that everything they did was perfect. Marriage wasn’t simply about standing beside each other through good times and bad.

Sometimes, loving someone meant being willing to tell them when they were missing something. Sometimes, it meant offering a perspective they couldn’t see for themselves, even if it was hard to swallow.

And sometimes, it meant trusting that the person who loved you enough to point out a problem would also listen when you had something to say in return.

Catherine smiled against his chest.

She had married a good man. A man who didn’t simply agree with her. A man who helped her see things differently, and trusted her enough to listen when she did the same for him.

That, perhaps, was what marriage was supposed to be.

Catherine did send the apple pie to Fitzgerald.

Miranda later told her that he had stayed with Samantha the previous night and had even had breakfast with the family. He was taking the right steps. Catherine decided that if William ever asked for her opinion, she would give it honestly.

She had also spoken to Samantha. Her niece seemed happy. And, for Catherine, that was enough.

Fitzgerald said nothing about the pie. He simply devoured it, wiped his mouth, and walked away. Catherine could only smile.

After visiting her father, they visited her mother’s grave; Catherine and Maximilian finally set off for their honeymoon.

Their first destination was the castle that Maximilian had bought for them, that they had decided to be their home away from home.

And once they arrived, they didn’t leave the bedroom for three days.

They had meals brought to them. They barely dressed. They moved between the bedroom, the bathroom, and, whenever they felt particularly adventurous, the sitting room. They behaved like two newlyweds who had just discovered they had absolutely no reason to be anywhere else.

By the fourth day, even Catherine admitted they should probably see the country they had traveled so far to visit.

So they moved from city to city. They walked through old streets, talked for hours, ate far too much, took pictures, and occasionally got lost.

Catherine’s camera roll became a collection of Maximilian. Maximilian standing beneath an old clock tower, Maximilian drinking coffee, Maximilian looking at her when he thought she wasn’t paying attention, Maximilian smiling, Maximilian sleeping… Maximilian looking handsome for absolutely no reason.

Maximilian, again.

Maximilian’s camera roll, meanwhile, was almost entirely weapons and armor. They visited museums. All of them, certainly not because Catherine wanted to.

She had endured hours of Maximilian explaining the historical significance of a particular sword, the subtle differences between two pieces of armor, and some battle from several centuries ago that had apparently changed the course of history.

Catherine understood approximately none of it. She smiled. She nodded. She pretended to be fascinated. Inside, she was thinking about lunch.

“I still don’t understand why that tiny extra piece of metal is important,” she complained after one particularly long explanation.

“It protected the wrist.”

“I’m sure it did.”

“And without it—”

“Maximilian.”

He looked at her.

“I love you.”

He smiled.

“But I don’t care about the wrist.”

He laughed. The museums were mostly for Maximilian. The research facilities were for Catherine.

Because of her growing reputation in the medical and scientific community, she was able to visit several state-of-the-art research facilities. Some even wanted to recruit her, and she spent hours talking to researchers, examining equipment, and discussing work that made her eyes light up in a completely different way.

Maximilian never complained. He simply waited for her. And then they moved on to the next city.

They wandered, they talked, they ate, they laughed, they explored, and they fell more deeply in love.

And, whenever they returned to their room, they remembered that they were newlyweds with an entire honeymoon ahead of them.

By the time they finally returned home, a month had already passed since their wedding.

They came back happy, exhausted, sun-kissed, and more deeply in love than when they had left. Their honeymoon had been everything Catherine had dreamed it would be.

And then, one ordinary morning, something happened. Maximilian was barely awake when he heard Catherine scream from the bathroom.

His heart nearly stopped.

“Catherine!”

He was out of bed in an instant, rushing toward the bathroom.