Chapter 8 - The Boylston Street Rain
Three months later.
The autumn air in Boston was crisp, carrying the sharp, clean scent of fallen leaves and approaching winter.
Maxwell Callahan stood beneath the red awning of the CVS on Boylston Street, his hands tucked inside the pockets of his charcoal overcoat. His phone buzzed in his pocket—a routine notification from Callahan Global’s newly restructured philanthropic wing. He ignored it.
He didn't care about the markets today.
He looked down at the sidewalk beside him.
A little girl in pink rain boots with tiny yellow ducks on them was splashing happily in a shallow puddle, her high-pitched laughter cutting through the afternoon bustle of the city.
“Mommy, look! I’m making waves!” Sophie called out, jumping again and sending droplets splashing against Maxwell’s expensive leather shoes.
Eleanor stepped up beside him, wearing a warm camel-hair coat, her dark blond hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders. She looked healthier, stronger, and more radiant than Maxwell had ever seen her.
She slipped her gloved hand into his coat pocket, her fingers finding his.
“You know,” Eleanor murmured with a faint, teasing smile, looking up at him, “you still owe me four hundred and eighty-six dollars for that emergency prescription.”
Maxwell smiled, turning his head to press a gentle kiss against her temple.
May you like
“I’ll pay you back,” he whispered, pulling her closer against his side as the first gentle drops of afternoon rain began to fall from the gray Boston sky. “Every single cent—plus interest, for the rest of our lives.”
Sophie grabbed both of their hands, swinging between them as they walked down the sidewalk together, leaving the ghosts of Boylston Street behind them forever.
