29. Maximillian #2
She still does.
We slow to a walk, letting the horses cool down, and make our way toward the old stone wall at the far end of the meadow. The view from here stretches all the way to the mountains, the hills rolling away in waves of gold and green.
Elle brings Sovrano to a halt and looks out at the landscape. I stop the gray beside her, close enough that I could reach out and touch her if I wanted to.
“Elle,” I say quietly.
She turns to look at me, her face still flushed from the ride, her eyes soft with happiness.
“You were made for this.”
The words come out before I can second-guess them.
I’ve been thinking them for weeks, watching her ride, watching her plan, watching her choose the life she wants and reach for it with both hands.
But I was careless with those words once.
I gave them to someone else, someone who wasn’t Elle, because I was thoughtless and didn’t understand what I was throwing away.
I remember how she looked at me after that first race, braced for an excuse, and how astonished she seemed when I admired her instead.
I should have kept telling her what I saw.
Especially on the days when she couldn’t see it herself.
Elle is quiet for a moment. Her hand moves to Sovrano’s neck, stroking the warm coat, and I watch her throat work as she swallows.
“I wanted to hear you say that again,” she says finally.
“I should have told you long before today.”
“You’re telling me now.” She looks at me, and I see something settle in her face. Peace, maybe. Or certainty. “That’s what matters.”
I want to kiss her, but we’re still mounted, and the horses are shifting beneath us, ready to move. Instead, I hold her gaze and let her see everything I’m feeling.
“Come on,” Elle says after a moment. “Let’s walk them back. Luce will be wondering where we’ve gone.”
We turn the horses toward home and let them amble through the meadow, their heads low, their steps unhurried. The morning has stretched into early afternoon, and I can smell something cooking from the direction of the house.
“What do you think she’ll be like?” Elle asks. “When she’s trained.”
“Luce?”
“Who else?” Elle smiles. “I keep trying to picture it. Her under saddle, ready to work. It feels so far away.”
“It is far away. That’s the point.” I watch a hawk circle overhead. “You get to find out who she becomes.”
“I’ve never done that before. Not from the very beginning.”
“I know. That’s why you wanted her.”
Elle nods slowly. “Wait until you know her,” she says, almost to herself. “Wait until you see what she can do.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
She reaches over and touches my arm briefly, then returns her hand to the reins. We ride the rest of the way in comfortable silence, the horses walking side by side through the olive grove.
When we reach the yard, the groom is waiting to take the horses. We dismount at the block, and I unfasten my helmet and hang it on the fence. Elle does the same, shaking out her braid, and turns toward Luce’s paddock.
The filly is standing at the gate, watching us with pricked ears. When she sees Elle approaching, she nickers softly.
“See?” Elle says. “She missed me.”
“The groom has been here. Perhaps Luce is reporting the quality of the service.”
“Luce is affectionate.” Elle produces another carrot. “You could learn from her.”
I lean on the fence beside her and watch the filly take the carrot with delicate enthusiasm. She’s going to be something, this horse. I can see it in the way she moves, the way she watches everything, the quick intelligence in her eyes.
“You’re good at this,” I tell Elle.
She glances at me. “At what?”
“Letting them take their time.” I nod toward the filly. “You wanted to go straight to her when the ramp came down. You waited.”
“She needed a look around. I could give her that.”
“You could.” I catch her hand and bring it to my lips. “Even after waiting all morning.”
Elle watches me kiss her knuckles, her expression softening. Then she pulls her hand free and uses it to cup my face instead.
“Thank you,” she says. “For thinking of this. For coming with me to see her.”
“You did the choosing. I just drove.”
“You did more than that.” She rises on her toes and kisses me, soft and warm. “You believed I could do this. That mattered.”
I wrap my arms around her and pull her close, kissing her properly this time. She tastes like morning air and happiness, and I want to stay here forever, in this yard, with this woman, surrounded by horses and hills and the life we’re building together.
When we finally separate, Elle is smiling.
“Rosa’s going to come looking for us,” she says.
“Let her look.”
“Max.” She laughs. “We can’t stand here kissing all day.”
“We could try.”
“We have responsibilities.”
“Overrated.”
She swats my arm, but she’s still smiling. I keep my arm around her waist as we turn to look at Luce one more time. The filly has lost interest in us now that the carrots are gone and is investigating the far corner of her paddock.
“She’s going to be a handful,” Elle says.
“She’s going to be magnificent.”
“Both, probably.” Elle leans into me. “I can’t wait to find out.”
We stand there for a moment longer, watching the filly explore her new home. Sovrano calls from his paddock, and Luce’s head comes up, ears pricked toward the sound. She whinnies back, high and curious, and I feel Elle laugh against my shoulder.
“They’re already talking,” she says.
“Comparing notes.”
“Sovrano’s telling her about the good grazing spots.”
“Luce is telling him about the journey.”
Elle looks up at me, her face bright with amusement. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You encouraged me.”
“I did.” She kisses my cheek. “I’ll have to live with that.”
I pull her closer and rest my chin on the top of her head. The afternoon stretches ahead of us, full of small tasks and quiet pleasures. Horses to care for, meals to eat, plans to make. The ordinary business of a life shared with someone you love.
Elle shifts in my arms, tilting her face up toward mine.
“What are you thinking?” she asks.
“That I like being here.” I look at the hills, at the stable, at the woman in my arms. “That I like watching you build something.”
“Even when it takes years?”
“Especially then.” I kiss her forehead. “I want to know how it turns out.”
“Good.” She pulls back enough to meet my eyes. “Because I have plans. Big ones. And I’m going to need someone to argue with about them.”
“I volunteer.”
“You don’t even know what they are yet.”
“I’ll argue anyway. Keep you sharp.”
She laughs, and the sound fills the yard, mixing with the calls of horses and the rustle of leaves in the olive trees. This is her place, I think. Her land, her home, her life. I’m just lucky enough to be part of it.
***