Chapter 64
Chapter sixty-four
Maverick
Walking outside, the cool December temperatures bite into my skin, causing me to shiver briefly as I tug on my jacket. Rounding the corner outside one of my parents’ cafes, my phone vibrates in my jacket pocket with an incoming text.
Izzy
Can we meet up tonight?
Something about the text rattles me. I find myself questioning, is this it?
It’s been two weeks since that day on the ranch—two weeks since we’ve seen each other. It took me four days to process everything, give in, and text her. We’ve been messaging since then, but it feels stale.
Maverick
You’re finally letting me see that beautiful face of yours?
Although I’ve asked a few times, she hasn’t wanted to meet up in person, saying she needed more time to process everything, too. I won’t lie, it took me a while to come around. I honestly questioned if I could do this with her any further. The truth is, it’s hard.
It’s hard being so in love with someone and questioning if that love is reciprocated. I know she loves me, but does her love for me run as deeply as mine runs for her?
Izzy
Yes. Meet up at Cafe Creole in downtown New Orleans in about an hour?
Cafe Creole. One of my parents' restaurants, the one where I first saw her all those years ago. That’s where it all began for me.
Something feels off.
I can’t put my finger on it, and I don’t know what it is, but my concern is unavoidable, my stomach churning with the fear.
Maverick
Yeah. I’m in the city now. I’ll see you there.
Tucking my phone away, I make my way over to my truck. Once I’m inside, I open my console and slide the little black box into my pocket before taking off.
It’s now or never.
This will be my last attempt, my very last effort to make this work. Our conversation can go one of two ways, and while I’m hoping for the best and praying we can move forward, I’m also expecting the worst.
Now that I’ve seen the way that she looks at him, I’m not as confident in us as I used to be.
When I pulled up that day at the ranch, and I saw their eyes locked with him consoling her, she was looking at him as if he hung the fucking moon. It’s the exact way I’ve always wanted her to look at me. She never has.
I love her. I think I’ve done a really good job at showing that—the best I know how. But sometimes love isn’t enough. And also, at times, you have to love yourself enough to let someone else go if it isn’t meant to be.
And maybe we aren’t meant to be. It’ll hurt, but it’s a possibility I’ll have to accept if it comes to that. Still, I have to try. If not, I’d never forgive myself.
Our fate is held in the palms of her hands.