Chapter 27 Maverick
CHAPTER 27
MAVERICK
T he flowers made it.”
Bolt says it from the door of my home office in Malibu. I glance up from the data provided by one of my newest business partners.
“Huh.”
I keep it monosyllabic and hope Bolt realizes no further comment is required. He walks into the office and takes the seat across from me while I clack away on my laptop and email a reply to the partner.
“You mentioned sending them to her mother’s house when she’s there?” Bolt continues.
“Not as many,” I say, still not looking up. “But don’t order them yet. We’ll play it by ear.”
“Do we know where her mother lives? When specifically the surgery is? When Hendrix begins her stay in North Carolina?”
“That all sounds like your job,” I reply with a grin, sparing him a quick glance before returning to my correspondence.
“I guess the bigger question is if you’re sure you know what you’re doing.”
My fingers still over the keys and a muscle twitches in my jaw. I stop typing and sit back in my chair, hands folded over my stomach. He wanted my attention and that comment got it.
“Meaning what?” I ask.
“We’ve discussed this before.”
“And was it none of your business then, too?”
“Mav, seriously. Zere. Hendrix. This could get really messy.”
“I’m aware and also don’t care.”
“But—”
“The fuck, Bolt,” I snap, dropping all pretense of indifference. “Whose balls did you wake up with to think you can question me?”
He doesn’t flinch at my sharp words, his face as impassive as usual.
“My own balls have always served me just fine,” he says. “But if you’re asking what gave me the audacity to question your current course of action, I guess you did by always encouraging me to speak my mind and to let you know if I see you making a mistake.”
“Hendrix is not a mistake,” I say through tight lips.
“I’m not saying she is, but the timing is inadvisable. Just because Zere went on one date—”
“This isn’t about Zere. I mean, did I feel relieved to see her moving on with someone else? Yeah, sure, but I was already pursuing Hendrix.” I smirk, hoping to ease the tension that has entered the conversation. “At least I know how to use my words and actions to show the woman I want how I feel, instead of dragging her off to fuck her in a closet every time we’re in the same room.”
Bolt’s inscrutable expression cracks, revealing irritation before he quickly smooths his brow and levels out his scowl.
“I don’t want Skipper,” Bolt says evenly.
“Might want to tell your dick that.”
“I have. We’re in agreement now. Those few times—”
“ Few times?” I cut in, my eyes going wide. “You’ve only met Skipper twice, right?”
There’s complete silence while Bolt flattens his lips and mean mugs me.
“Right?” A laugh rolls out of me and I tip back in my seat. “Shit. Did you creep down to Atlanta for a cross-country hit?”
“It was not a…” Bolt sucks in a sharp breath and meets my eyes. “It was a quick trip, an ill-advised decision that we both regretted later.”
“This was after the playoffs game in the box?”
“Tell me. Do you delve this deeply into all your employees’ personal lives, or am I the only one this fortunate?”
“Only the ones who can’t keep their asses out of my personal business and try to tell me I shouldn’t go after the woman I want.”
“It’s not an issue of want. It’s timing.”
“If you wanted someone the way I want Hendrix, then you would not waste time, and you for damn sure wouldn’t be waiting on a green light from your ex. I care about Zere. I respect her and I was faithful to her while we were together, but we aren’t together anymore. Period.”
My cell rings on my desk, and we both look at it. The screen displays Zere calling.
“Tell her that,” Bolt says, allowing himself a grin for the first time since he entered my office—asshole—and then leaves, closing the door behind him.
“Hey,” I answer the call. “What’s up, Zee?”
“Hi,” she replies, her tone formal. “How are you?”
“Can’t complain. You?”
“I’m fine, thanks,” she says, politeness shrink-wrapping the words. “I wanted to… well, I hadn’t gotten a response to the invitation for my fortieth birthday party, so I thought I’d ask if you’re a yea or nay.”
“Do you really want me to come?”
“I wouldn’t have invited you if I didn’t want you there, Mav,” she says, impatience and something more vulnerable in her voice. “It’s a big milestone. Of course I want you to come.”
“Will your new guy be okay with me attending?” I inject a hint of teasing, hoping she hears that it really doesn’t bother me.
“He’s not ‘my new guy.’ One date doesn’t mean we’re in a committed relationship. He’ll be there, but he won’t trip if you come, too. It’s not like that.”
“All right.” I nod and close the laptop to give the conversation my focus. “Just want to be respectful.”
“Look, you know I was heartbroken when we decided to part ways, but I’ve done a lot of reflecting. And spent a lot of time with my therapist.” She gives a short laugh. “That woman has been working overtime, but she helped me see that the same way it wouldn’t be fair of you to expect me to give up my dream of having kids, it’s not fair for me to expect you to want something other than what you feel is right for you.”
She needed therapy to reach that conclusion? Is that what’s passing as a breakthrough these days? Note to self. Pay my therapist more.
“Look, everyone who is important to me will be there,” Zere continues, her tone softening. “That means you, too, doofus.”
“Okay. I’ll come.” I tilt back in my office chair and grin. “And what am I giving you this year? You’ll have to actually tell me instead of leaving clues all over the house so I can figure it out.”
It’s quiet for a moment. Probably not the best thing to remind her of, but if we’re going to actually be friends, we need to move past the awkwardness of our past relationship.
“Just you being there is gift enough,” she says, then laughs. “Who am I kidding? You know you better come correct for the four-oh. Figure it out on your own. Bolt will help you. I only ask that you choose it yourself. Okay?”
“I can do that. And, uh, who’s coming? Anyone I actually like?” I fish, wondering if she’ll mention the name I’m hoping to hear.
“Of course there will be people you actually like. Well, a few at least,” she says with a giggle. “You like Hendrix, right?”
I almost choke at the unexpected question.
“I mean, she said you’re involved with her venture capital fund,” Zere goes on. “I assumed you liked her, but if you don’t, I can—”
“I do. I do like her. She’s cool.” My hand tightens around the phone, but I keep my tone casual. “She’s coming?”
“Yup, she and Chapel both are.”
I’m glad when Hendrix asked, I was vague about whether I’d attend the party. I want to see her again, and this may be my best chance.