1 Prologue

I was only 21, when I thought I met the love of my life. His name is Patrick James, or PJ, (as he liked to go by). He had me so enthralled, I married him. Looking back on it now, I can see through the obvious bullshit he fed me. I was a fatal mix of desperate and lonely, I would have bought anything at that point.

But, I wasn't the only one he was dishing out the fucked up lies to.

He met her shortly after he proposed to me, which I later I learned that Brenda, his "sweet" mommy, had kind of forced him to do so in one or more ways. At the time, I knew of her only as 'Burger Girl'. Despite my better judgement, I believed him when he swore I had nothing to worry over. They were just friends, he said, not even that, acquaintances, really. He convinced me that he didn't even like her like that and wasn't even attracted to her. Besides, she "supposedly" had a boyfriend at that time.

Bull. Fucking. Shit.

Stupidly, I didn't think on it too long. I had other, bigger things to worry about. Like infertility. And a dumb wedding that I didn't even want. Both PJ and Brenda vetoed my idea of a small courthouse shindig. Apparently, a judge and Olive Garden didn't resonate with them.

Oh, but don't you worry your pretty little heads over me having to plan the wedding I didn't even want. Brenda had promised me she would plan the whole event. I wouldn't have to plan a single thing, make any decisions. I guess I should be grateful. Her words.

Like mother, like son.

She got a full-time job and couldn't help all of a sudden. It was now up to me to plan the one day of my life that I wanted to be short, simple, and to the point. Fuck me for marrying her first born and having to do things the way she wanted.

Jokes on her, however, my wedding was a big ol' cluster fuck. Nothing went the way she wanted it to. I guess she should've planned it like she promised. Or, agreed to the small courthouse shindig that I had wanted. I'm busting up writing this part, guys. My bouquet wilted. It rained. Oh, and the groom slept with one of the bridesmaid, the day before, the day of and the day after. Romantic, right?

Said bridesmaid married his brother months later. I guess it's true when they talk about "keeping it in the family".

I forgave him. He still had me fooled. And I was still desperate as fuck. The bridesmaid couldn't be a threat if we lived in a whole other state, anyways. "Burger Girl" wasn't his type. So he said. What did I have to worry over? He married me.

Have I said yet that I was barely 24 and isolated from my family by being moved to the middle of nowhere?

It didn't take long to understand that marriage wasn't the same commitment to him that it was to me.

But, once again, I had more important things to focus on. That tricky infertile uterus of mine took over my brain. I threw myself into doctor appointments, invasive ultrasounds, and yummy injections. No time to wonder where PJ was spending his time away from me.

I told myself he was working, playing breadwinner so I could drive to Texas every Monday and not deal with unnecessary stress. It didn't occur to me that he would lie about taking overtime. It didn't occur to me to check the bank and do the math on what his paychecks should really look like with all that time he spent at "work". I wanted to trust my husband, although he gave me absolutely no reason to.

Infertility turned into a miracle pregnancy.

Suddenly, I had one more reason to turn a blind eye. Not just on the cheating, but also on the more horrible act that he had hidden in his phone. To this day, I still hate myself for keeping that secret. He promised me that he would stop. But, remember what I said about his almost compulsive need to lie?

I can sit here and write out all of my excuses for why I stayed. At the end of the day, they're just excuses and I'm still pathetic. I've forgiven myself but forgetting is another matter entirely. I will never make the same mistakes. I will never love and trust another man again...well, let's just say never say never...

Luckily, for both of our sakes, I had a seemingly healthy baby boy.

He held him, once. Maybe twice.

I raised him and continued to raise him. I changed all the diapers (still do) and breastfed, exclusively. I went to every doctor appointment and therapy session. When our son first showed signs of being delayed: sitting up, then crawling, and walking. Not to mention, talking. I noticed the signs. PJ refused to see them.

Autism shouldn't be a taboo subject. Especially not when you're doing such horrible things behind your family's back. It runs in my family. I wasn't even remotely shocked. Somehow I had prepared myself for it. I just wish I prepared myself for the end of my happily ever after, as well.

The truth of his affair wasn't what hurt me the most. After all, I had my suspicions. Neither was the distance that he created between us when I started questioning him, more and more. My world didn't shatter because he stopped loving me. I didn't care that he chose that bitch and her father over me. None of that mattered.

What really killed me was the way he just walked away from our baby.

Our precious, innocent child.

Turns out, I was the only one working my ass off to get pregnant. PJ was kind of just there to stick it in when I asked him to. He allowed me to have our son because he thought that would get me off his back. He was wrong, but so was I.

Ezekiel Patrick Malachi Mayes was not a reason for PJ to stick around and fight for our family.

Had I known that this was going to be my ending, I would never have given my son that name. I would have kept the last name I was born with. I would have stuck to the original middle name I wanted, instead of the one I gave him in order to appease my father-in-law. And, I would have left during my first trimester when his coworker's wife spilled the news of his cheating. The news I secretly already knew.

However, if I did that, I wouldn't be Maxie M. Mayes. Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? And, we wouldn't be on this journey together. You see, this isn't about the horrid past I shared with PJ and somehow with his damn lover.

Nah, this is about something so much better.

This is about love. The sappy shit you see in movies and read about in books. But with a hint of Maxie. Okay, more than a hint. I'm that aftertaste you can't seem to get rid of. The song stuck in your head where you only know the chorus. And, you know what? He can't fucking get enough of it.

I'm not going to say anything more about him. Don't wanna ruin a good story by skipping to the best bits. There's too many characters that ya'll need to get to know first. The people who shaped who I am today and who helped made me into the woman that he loves.

You guys need to first know how I got there before I introduce him.

I promise its not going to be boring. You may laugh a little, cry a little, and get angry a little, too. Just know that I'm going to be on this crazy roller coaster with you and, when it's over, maybe you'll want to take that ride again.

So, without further ado, here is my story.

It all begins on the road.