Chapter 31
Maverick walked to the living room, saying hi to Dad while I went to the kitchen to get Malibu a bowl of water. I took her ceramic dish from the cabinet and was halfway finished filling it up when I turned off the faucet and froze.
When had I gotten a bowl for her? Days ago? Weeks? I couldn’t remember exactly, but it had become a natural part of my routine when Maverick came over. I glanced into the cabinet, seeing the matching bowls for Tito and Port—their names written in bright, bold script—and shook my head.
I liked it. Liked that we’d become accustomed to each other, sliding into different facets of our lives like we had always been there.
The bubbling anger from Doctor Douche was still there, simmering under the surface, but hearing Maverick and Dad laugh about some college football mishap from the other night had me pushing it down, determined to focus on the budding happiness I’d found.
“Got any more of that coffee left?” he asked, stepping into the kitchen and bending down to scratch Malibu before tossing a stack of those travel brochures Mina had given me onto the table.
They scattered, sliding every which way because of how hard he threw them.
The temperature in the kitchen dropped ten degrees as I nervously rubbed my finger on my bottom lip.
“I have a question about these, but I really hope I’m wrong.” His knuckle cracked on the table next to the brochure, and I eyed the glossy paper, focusing in on the one about Barcelona that was circled in black marker, before frowning as a sick feeling bubbled in my stomach.
I’d played around with the idea of traveling after talking with Mina, but my life was too chaotic to linger on it. Perhaps one day after I’d retired, but not now—not when the possibility of us dangled in the air like an invisible tether bringing us closer.
The cogs in Maverick’s head were turning, and I closed my eyes, hoping I was overreacting, and he simply wanted to know if I preferred Italian or Chinese food.
But, somehow, I knew that wasn’t what was on his mind, and something was about to implode like a sweet potato casserole forgotten about in a five-hundred-degree oven.
“Sure thing,” I said, my voice clipped and tight as I grabbed the sugar from the counter, fully aware that I knew how he took his coffee.
I shook my head, setting the jar on the kitchen table before turning to grab a mug. “But first, there’s something I wanted to ask you about, too. Us. Together. You and me. Er—” I stuttered, clasping my hands together and chuckling nervously while still facing away from him.
Maybe I could head off this awful feeling by steering the conversation another direction—or maybe I was completely off base, and he actually wanted to know what my favorite takeout food was.
“Us?” he scoffed, phrasing the word like a question that had me leaving the cabinet door open and turning to face him.
I pressed my back against the counter, crossing my arms. “Am I so out of line for asking? Especially after the other night. I thought we were on the same page.”
I remembered our date fondly, and the night we shared. How he held me when we slept and then cooked breakfast for us the next morning. Maybe in the cool light of day he’d regretted how our date ended. My hackles bristled, and I rubbed my hands on my pants, trying to get rid of my excess energy.
“I didn’t want to believe it, you know?” he started, facing away from the table and toward me.
His fists were clenched, making the crease between his eyebrows stand out.
I had the sudden urge to run to him and smooth out the wrinkle with my thumb, but I wasn’t sure my touch was wanted.
“Maybe it was just wishful thinking on your part after you got the inheritance. But I never thought you’d just up and leave without at least talking to me first.”
“Full stop, Mav. What are you talking about?” I propped my hands on my hips and tilted my head, breaking eye contact with him and staring at the floor.
“These.” He grabbed a brochure before tossing it back onto the kitchen table.
“Again. What are you talking about? Right now, I can barely see past the court hearing, and I was hoping you were here to ask me on a second date. That’s painfully obviously not the case, so what’s going on with you?”
I hadn’t meant to sound so snarky, but between his defensive posture and tone, I couldn’t help but cringe.
He motioned to the table, and I groaned, trying not to roll my eyes. “So, when are you leaving? These brochures weren’t all marked to hell the other day.”
“Leaving? Where exactly am I going?”
“I assume on some trip with your friend. Do I at least get an invitation to your going away party?”
“Ah, yes,” I said, unable to keep my voice from quivering. “You know everything, right? So, help me choose.”
I turned away from him and to the cabinet, taking out a mug for him and hoping he wouldn’t notice that my hands were trembling. Filling the cup, I grabbed a spoon for the sugar and put both on the table, watching as he added several scoops to his coffee.
“Barcelona?” I asked, stabbing my finger on the top flyer. “Or maybe Ireland.” I shuffled the papers some more. “Ah. Here we are. Perhaps an Alaskan cruise. Shall I make the departure date before or after my company’s retreat?”
“I wouldn’t know, because you haven’t told me. But it sounds like you have enough on your plate without me adding to it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, stalking back to the cabinet and closing the door with more force than I intended, the cups inside rattling.
“I don’t know. Maybe between the court date and you planning a trip to another country, the last thing you want is to jump into a new relationship.”
“Excuse me?” I said with clenched teeth, barely hearing his words because of the roaring in my ears.
“But hey, it was fun while it lasted, right?”
He stood, turned, and walked out the sliding glass door, leaving it open. I followed, looking at Malibu, who stood and stretched. She shook her head and yawned, trotting outside before turning in a circle and laying on the porch.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, and counting to five, I hoped Bev wasn’t outside to hear the commotion that I knew would come as soon as I called to him.
I watched him stomp across the yard while Malibu stayed lying beside me, unwilling to follow or perhaps figuring he’d come back for her.
My exasperation was a palpable force, swirling around me like a vortex of emotions I couldn’t control.
“Stop self-sabotaging, Maverick!” I called, crossing my arms as he stopped partway to Bev’s yard and spun to face me.
My voice trembled, but I stood tall. “You hide behind your quiet, stoic routine so you never have to feel anything. You’re so damn afraid of taking a chance that you look for any damn excuse to leave. ”
He stalked closer, his jaw tightening and his fists clenched. “Oh, that’s rich coming from you. The second something doesn’t go your way, you explode. Do you honestly think yelling is the same thing as being honest? Because it’s not. It’s just noise.”
I took a step toward him, Malibu whining beside me as heat flared in my chest. “At least I say what I’m feeling, even if it is yelling.
You just”—I waved my arms in frustration—“shut down. You keep everything locked away, pretending to be the world’s safest man, but you’re a coward, unable to even fathom what we could be together. ”
His eyes hardened, but behind the barriers he was fortifying, he looked wounded. I felt guilty, but another part felt justified, hoping he’d understand how hurtful his actions were.
“A coward? How dare you? Do you have any idea how hard this is for me? I had to bury my wife! Do you have any idea what that does to a man? How could you just up and leave after our fucking night together.”
I felt my anger ebbing as anguish crossed his features and he panted in the cool fall evening. One hand went to my chest, and I reached toward him with the other before letting it fall to my side.
“You honestly believe I’m leaving, don’t you?
How can you think so little of me?” My chin trembled as I willed myself not to cry, covering my face with my hands and trying to steady my breaths.
“You’re using this—and her—as an excuse to keep me out.
You’ve built a shrine to your pain and guilt.
How would she react if she saw you now? Would she be glad that you’re stuck, unable to move on even though a second chance is standing here in tears! ”
I took a step down the porch steps and he resumed his pacing, the two of us circling each other like predators. My knees felt weak and I stopped, wanting to sink down onto the cool grass and forget these last minutes.
“This isn’t casual for me, Mav. If you’re having second thoughts, just tell me.
Don’t make up flimsy excuses. If you’d bothered to ask me a single question, you’d know I have no desire to travel.
You’d also know that I’m crazy about you.
But I refuse to spend my life trying to measure up to your wife. ”
My shoulders slumped, and I dropped my head to my chest. I backed up, lowering myself to the top porch step and drawing my legs to my chest so I could rest my chin on my knees.
He stopped pacing and stood at the bottom of the steps, spreading his legs and crossing his arms. His cheeks were flushed, the tension easy to see in the little lines around his eyes.
“You’ve never been casual for me either, Summer. From the first moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you had the power to destroy me. But you’re insane if you think I can just erase her. My grief isn’t some fucking character flaw.”
“Of course not. And I’m not trying to replace her. There’s room for both of us if you’d let go of the guilt and let me in. I’m right here!” I said, throwing my hands into the air.
He shook his head, pacing a few steps away and raking a hand through his hair. “Maybe you just don’t have the patience for a man like me.”
My chest ached as if something had splintered inside, the fight leaving as fast as it came. “If you keep holding onto a ghost, you’re going to lose the living. You’re going to lose me. So, perhaps you should just go before you break me completely.”
For a long tense moment, we stared at each other, the only sound a breeze sweeping through the trees. Then his shoulders slumped, and he bowed his head before turning sharply and walking away, not looking back.
I stayed on the porch with my arms wrapped around my legs, trying to take comfort in the moments we had shared, but it was useless, and I felt empty.
Malibu whined and stood, leaning close and licking my elbow before trotting down the steps and across the yard.
I watched her leave, sitting long past when the back door opened and she went inside.