Bennett — Ten Days Ago
My morning alarm buzzed, and I quickly reached for my phone to shut it off.
Forcing myself to sit up, I attempted to rub the sleep from my eyes.
Man, I was exhausted. What was it about being in the over-thirty category that made it so difficult to recover from a late night out, let alone two in a row?
Though I definitely would have slept better had I not found Maven in my bed when I’d gotten back to the trailer in the middle of the night.
I’d been tempted to follow through with my threat and climb in with her, but in the end, my better judgment won out.
It was a choice I’d regretted each of the fifteen times I woke up with my feet hanging off the end of the couch or Finn huffing because I’d commandeered the spot where he typically slept.
It took another few minutes to convince myself to stand up and get moving.
Flipping on the kitchen light, I quietly climbed the five stairs to my bedroom and snuck inside to grab some clothes, all while trying not to think about how Maven was right there, lying in my bed.
But her soft breathing brought back a wave of memories, and I couldn’t resist opening the door a bit wider, letting in enough light to get a better look.
Even lying there, greedily curled in my blankets and with her blond hair a mess, she was beyond stunning.
How many times had I lain next to her, not appreciating the simple fact of what I’d had right there at my fingertips?
I was now confident I’d do anything for another chance to be with her.
Not that I’d realized that’s what I’d wanted until the opportunity had knocked me upside the head.
Seeing Maven after so long had been shocking enough, but the news that we were actually still married had shaken me.
It didn’t matter how many times over the years I’d told myself I was over her.
In one brief interaction, I’d become all too aware of my aggravating reality—I was still very much in love with Maven.
The entire month before our online meeting with Judge Rost, I couldn’t stop ruminating on the fact that Maven and Colin had broken up.
Or on her reasons for pretending they were engaged.
She’d thought it would make things easier.
But wouldn’t it only make things easier if she suspected there were still feelings between us?
Or at least the possibility of feelings?
Not that it had mattered much initially.
I’d still thought she was an unreachable part of my past. Literally unreachable, being that she was supposed to have been thousands of miles away in Europe.
But she hadn’t made it like she’d hoped.
And New York, though it had always felt a world away, suddenly seemed temptingly close with Judge Rosts’s offer to allow us a second attempt at the good faith reconciliation effort.
Court-mandated shared meals and weekly in-person activities might be the last thing Maven wanted, so much so that she’d rather revert to the monthslong process of filing for divorce in New York, but not me.
In one split-second decision, when Judge Rost had said we’d both need to agree to dismiss the case in Vermont to move it to New York, I’d refused to sign the dismissal.
It had hardly even felt like a decision.
It was more like an instinctual reaction.
Had it been reckless and foolish? Absolutely.
Especially considering Maven could choose to go back to New York at the end of this.
But I knew this would be the last chance I’d get to remind her of the dream we’d once shared and see if there was any possibility she’d still want it.
To see if there was any possibility she could forgive me for leaving.
The problem was, I had no idea how to go about any of it.
I was pretty sure step one involved coming up with a way to be in the same place as Maven without needing to fight off a bombardment of old feelings and desires.
The last thing I wanted was to scare her away, but my current strategy—leaving when I couldn’t resist the overwhelming pull I felt toward her—didn’t seem like the most promising course to accomplish my objective.
But the other option—to stop resisting the pull and instead lean into it—came with the very real risk of rejection.
The risk of her declaring with finality that this life—a life with me here in Autumn Ridge—really wasn’t enough for her.
Walking away from Maven had been the most painful thing I’d ever experienced.
Losing her again after allowing her back into my life would be unbearable.
But would it be more unbearable than allowing her to walk away without her knowing how I felt? Honestly, I wasn’t sure.
Which was why I’d need to take things slow and steady.
I’d need to follow her lead. Thankfully, she was still easier for me to read than any book I’d ever picked up.
And the way she’d looked at me last night after our kitchen faucet water fight made me hopeful that, if I was patient, I might actually have a chance. Even if it was only a slight one.
Maven released a small moan, so I quietly pulled the door closed and hurried into the bathroom.
It wasn’t until after flipping on the lights that I noticed the pair of socks atop my pile of clothes had an assortment of trout on them.
That explained the charge that came through on my card yesterday from NVLTYSCKS.
And given the amount she’d spent, I’d guess there were a few more pairs that had been added to my collection. I shook my head, fighting my smile.
That woman was trouble. In so many ways.
I’d been at the receiving end of her pranks before, but I’d never experienced such a concentrated effort at her hands.
Staying on Maven’s good side really had been sound advice, and I was definitely not on her good side at the moment.
And considering how little finagling trailer locks required, I was one butter-knife turn away from her next prank.
Especially since I may have just woken her up.
I jumped into the shower, keeping a vigilant ear to any sounds of Maven sneaking in to steal my clothes and towel or pour ice water on me.
With how distracted I was, it wasn’t until I’d soaped my body and started lathering my shampoo that I noticed the strong fragrance of apples wafting through the small space.
Confused, I grabbed my shampoo bottle and opened the lid, taking a whiff that nearly made me choke from the overwhelming scent.
I released a groan. Why did I not think to check that after her whole hand soap swap yesterday?
After a very thorough rinse, which didn’t remove the apple smell nearly as much as I’d hoped, I grabbed my towel and dried off in the shower, only stepping out when I had it firmly wrapped around my waist, just in case.
But when I started to dress, I realized my bed-stealing roommate hadn’t just been switching out my shampoo and body soap.
She’d done some mighty fine handiwork with a needle and thread.
Throwing on the rest of my clothes, I returned to my room with my phone in flashlight mode and sifted through my drawers.
Not only was every normal pair of socks missing, replaced by an eclectic collection of novelty patterned ones, but she’d also sewn shut every single fly on my boxer briefs, including the pair I was now wearing.
I didn’t know whether to laugh or pull my hair out at her genius. But what I did know was that woman had officially lost all privileges of being left here alone. And I wouldn’t be the one complaining about all the extra time we were about to spend together.
“Up and at ’em.” I flipped on the lights, barely fighting my smile.