6. Maximillian #2
Something twists in my chest. Three weeks ago, I promised her another day like the one we had together, breakfast in bed and the whole afternoon under the olive tree.
I meant it when I said it. I still mean it.
But the days keep filling up with lessons and training and the steady march toward the championship, and somehow the promise stays where I left it, waiting for the right moment.
There will be time after the season. When the pressure eases and I can give her my full attention.
“Elle.” I lean forward, wanting to close the distance between us. “I know I’ve been busy. I know things have been…”
“Max.” She picks up her book and finds the page she marked. “Go train. I have my afternoon planned. We don’t have to turn it into a conversation.”
I recognize a dismissal when I see one. I stand, hesitate, then bend to press a kiss to the top of her head.
“Have a good time in town.” I mean it. I want her to have good days, even when I’m not part of them. Especially when I’m not part of them, because at least then I know she’s not waiting for me to show up.
She tilts her face up, and for a moment I think she’s going to say something else. Then she just nods and returns to her book, and I walk back into the house wondering when we started having to make arrangements to go into town together.
***
The call comes in the late afternoon, while I’m reviewing training notes in the small office off the main barn. My phone buzzes against the desk, and I answer without checking the screen. “Costanzo.”
“Maximillian! Good…” It’s Benedetto, one of the championship organizers, his voice carrying the cheerful efficiency of someone working through a long list. “I’m confirming entries for the exhibition program. We have you down for the individual freestyle, yes?”
“Yes.” I set down my pen and lean back in my chair. “Same as last year.”
“Excellent, excellent.” I hear papers shuffling on his end. “And the legacy pairs ride? I don’t see an entry yet, but I wanted to check before we finalize the program. No rush, just tidying up the records.”
The legacy pairs ride.
I close my eyes, and for a moment I’m back in the arena with Elle beside me, our horses moving in perfect synchronization. I remember the way she looked at me when the pattern finally came together after weeks of practice, the private smile she gave me before we turned toward the stands.
“I haven’t decided about that one yet.”
“Of course, of course. We don’t need final confirmation for another week or so.” I open my eyes. He’s already moved on, leaving the decision with me. “Just let me know when you’ve sorted it out. Give my regards to Georgina.”
“I will.” I hang up and sit staring at the phone in my hand.
The legacy ride. Elle and I rode it together the year before her accident, and the memory of that day still catches me off guard sometimes. The way she sat taller in the saddle when she felt the audience watching. The way she reached for my hand afterward, breathless and laughing.
Could she do it again? Six weeks is enough time to prepare, if she wanted to.
If she was ready.
But I’ve watched her avoid the stables. I’ve seen the way her whole body goes still when we get too close to the horses. Even the riding talk at dinner seemed to cost her something. I keep meaning to spare her more of it.
If I ask her, she’ll feel pressured. She’ll think she has to say yes because it’s our tradition, because I want it, because the alternative is admitting she’s not ready.
And if she says yes and then can’t do it, if she freezes or panics or has to withdraw, the failure will set her back months.
I’m still turning it over when I hear footsteps on the cobblestones outside. Giselle appears in the doorway, changed out of her riding clothes into something casual, her face open and curious.
“There you are.” She leans against the doorframe. “I heard your phone. Everything okay?”
“Fine.” I wave her in. “Just the championship organizers, confirming entries.”
“Oh, the championship.” Giselle’s eyes light up with the enthusiasm she brings to everything connected to riding. “I’ve been reading about it. The history, all the traditions. It sounds incredible.”
“It is.” The training notes in front of me haven’t had my attention since Benedetto mentioned the pairs entry. “They were asking about the legacy pairs ride.”
“The one you and Georgie used to do together.” Giselle leaves the chair opposite me empty and waits by the desk. “That must be hard. Thinking about it without her.”
“It is.” I keep the phone in my hand, though there’s no one left on the line. “But they need to know if I’m entering. If I’m going to ride it with anyone.”
Giselle waits while I turn the phone over. I’m considering whether to leave the entry blank when she speaks again.
“Max… I know this might sound crazy, but would it help if I did it? The pairs ride, I mean. Just to keep the tradition going, so there’s still a Costanzo entry. I know I’m not anywhere near Georgie’s level, but maybe they could simplify the pattern? Make it something a beginner could learn?”
I look up at her. She’s watching me with the same earnest determination she brings to her lessons. It seems she wants to help, and for a moment I’m too relieved by the offer to consider anything beyond it. “You’d be willing to do that?”
“Of course.” She comes around the desk, stopping beside the training notes. “It’s family tradition, right? And Georgie would want it to continue, even if she can’t be the one riding. This way, you’re not giving up something that matters to you just because… because things are different now.”
I think about what she’s offering.
A simple exhibition pattern, nothing demanding, just two horses moving together through a pattern she can learn. I think about how Elle would feel if I withdrew entirely, if I let the tradition lapse because she couldn’t be there.
And I think about how it would feel to ride a paired pattern again. To have someone beside me, matching my rhythm, part of something larger than a solo performance. I’ve missed it more than I’ve let myself admit.
“It would take a lot of practice.” I’m already calculating the hours, the extra sessions we’d need to fit in around her regular lessons. “We’d have to start right away.”
“I can do that.” Giselle looks down at my notes as though the sessions already belong there. “Whatever it takes. I want to do this for you. For Georgie.”
I can already picture how to make it work. We can keep the entry without asking Elle to decide whether she’s ready for an audience. She won’t have to work toward a date while everyone watches for signs that she’s getting better.
“Let me call them back.” I reach for my phone. “We’ll need to work out what kind of pattern they can adapt for a newer rider.”
“Thank you, Max.” She steps back to leave me room to make the call. “I promise I won’t let you down.”
I dial Benedetto’s number again, and he answers before I’ve decided what to say about Elle. “Max, that was fast. Good news?”
“I’ll be entering the legacy pairs ride.” Across the desk, Giselle waits for me to give him her name. “With Giselle della Rovere. My wife’s sister.”
“Wonderful, wonderful.” More paper shuffling. “I’ll make a note. We can discuss the choreography next week, work out something appropriate for a less experienced partner. This will be lovely, Max. Very touching, keeping it in the family.”
“Thank you.” I end the call and set the phone down carefully on the desk.
It’s done. Filed with the committee, recorded in whatever notes Benedetto is keeping. Giselle’s name will appear beside mine in the legacy pairs program.
“We should start tomorrow morning.” I lean back in my chair and look at Giselle, already thinking through what we can accomplish before my own training begins. “After your regular lesson. An extra hour to work on the basic framework, get you comfortable with riding beside another horse.”
“I’ll be there.” Giselle takes her phone out to put the time in her calendar. “Thank you, Max. For trusting me with this.”
She leaves to check on the mare, and I sit alone in the office while sunlight still falls across my desk. I pick up my phone and find Elle’s name. I could call her now. If she’s still in town, she could hear about the entry before dinner, while we have time to talk. My thumb hovers over her number.
But she sounded almost happy this morning, talking about her afternoon plans.
The bookshop, the coffee, an outing that had nothing to do with horses or championships or the weight of what she used to be able to do. I think about her face at dinner yesterday when her mother mentioned riding, the careful way she held herself still, and I set the phone down again.
Elle doesn’t need this today. She’s doing something for herself, and I don’t want to interrupt it with another conversation about the championship. I can give her that. I can let her have one uncomplicated afternoon before we talk about the entry.
So I gather my notes, leaving the phone where it is.
There is still work to finish, and when I see her tonight, I want to hear about what she found in town. We might manage a whole evening without anyone reminding her of the thing she can’t do yet.
For now, Elle doesn’t have to carry this decision. It’s for her own good.