Grabbing two shot glasses and the bottle of Jameson, I walk back into the living room and see he’s standing by one of my picture-framed-filled bookcases. He doesn’t turn to acknowledge that I’ve returned, but instead continues to study the photographs.
“I was going to come out to the ranch in the mornin’,” I tell his back.
He turns, his eyes rounded with shock at my admittance. I give him a weak smile and shrug my shoulders.
“I wanted you to know that. I feel like it’s important that you know I was coming to you. You kinda stole my chance to make the next move, I guess, but I was comin’. You were right when we spoke last. It’s time.”
His eyes close and he stands stock-still, breathing harshly, for a long while. “How come you aren’t married?” he softly asks, breaking through the silence that had settled around us.
“I’m not sure that’s very polite to ask a lady, Maverick.” His topic change is confusing, but I’m thankful that he accepted what I told him for what it was—admitting to him that I was ready for whatever is about to come.
One thick shoulder comes up in a shrug, but he doesn’t speak. I busy myself with opening the liquor and pouring two heavy shots. I knock one back before dropping the glass and refilling it. When I look back up, he’s studying the frames again.
“Marriage doesn’t really interest me anymore,” I tell him honestly. “I’m happy with my life the way it is.”
He turns and looks at me. “Are you? Happy, that is?”
What a loaded question that is. “I’ve got a very profitable business doing what I love. I have good friends and a roof over my head. I live a simple life, Maverick, but it’s a busy one doing what I enjoy. It’s fulfilling and I get to spend my days bringing people joy with my pies.”
“That doesn’t answer my question, Leighton.”
“Are you happy?” I ask, trying to flip his probing back around on him.
“Not in the slightest.”
“Oh.” His blunt, abrupt answer catches me off guard, and I shift my feet and motion down to the coffee table and full shots. “Uh, you asked for something strong.”
Out of the corner of my eye I see him move before his arm stretches through my line of sight. He bypasses the full glasses and wraps his long fingers around the bottle of Jameson. The top is tossed down on the coffee table before I hear him take a swallow from the bottle. I don’t look up; instead, I take both of the glasses before drinking them down as I turn to the kitchen.
Looks like we’re drinking from the bottle tonight.
When I walk back in the room, he’s still standing where I left him, sipping from the bottle.
“I’ve missed you,” he says gruffly. “Not a day went by that I didn’t think about you. I always thought that you would be married with two point five kids by now. You used to always talk about how much you couldn’t wait to be a mama. I avoided asking my family, though. I didn’t think I could handle it if they told me you were. Made no damn sense to my mind, but I knew if I heard you were married it would have been painful as hell.”
“Maverick—”
“I don’t think you’re happy, Leigh. I really don’t. I think you’re far from it, and that hits me harder than a punch to the gut. For a woman who always talked about how much she couldn’t wait to be just like her own mama, a rancher’s wife with a huge family, it’s a cryin’ shame. But the selfish part of me, the one that lived with a life of what-ifs and regrets, that part of me is damn glad you aren’t.”
I swallow the thick lump in my throat. “Please, Mav.” God, I need him to shut up.
“No, just . . . fuck!” His sudden outburst makes me jump a foot. I watch him take the bottle and swallow deeply. He takes a few more pulls before I get his eyes again. “I fucked up. I know it. You know it. Everyone fuckin’ knows it. I need you to understand why I’m standin’ here about to beg you to look past all of that and give me a chance to find out what it feels like to find happiness. To give us both that chance, Leighton.”
The silence stretches out around us. His normally strong and proud mask slips, showing me the pure desperation he feels while he waits for my next move. Finally, I nod and hold my hand out, pointing at the bottle so he knows what I want. The heaviness of today on top of the emotional roller coaster of this past week is taking a toll on me, but I made the decision today to be strong, and by God, that is what I’m going to be.
17
LEIGHTON
“Yours” by Russell Dickerson
When Maverick sits down on my couch, Earl doesn’t waste a second before jumping up into his lap. Maverick startles for a beat before hesitantly petting my big beast. Earl’s purrs fill the silence around us and I curl my legs under me and lean back in the chair next to the couch, watching Maverick’s hand as he strokes Earl slowly.
I take another big gulp, only to sputter through it when the burn goes down wrong.
“You all right, darlin’?”
I cough a few times. My eyes watering profusely. The alcohol starting to warm my body. “I’m fine.”
He nods. “This might take awhile. You should probably pace yourself.”
I roll my eyes and take another large swallow, this time managing not to choke on it, and look back at Maverick pointedly.
He smirks. “Or not.”
“It’s late. Instead of lecturing me on my drinking habits, why don’t we get this over with so I can once and for all try to make sense with the confusion running through my mind.”
I feel bad when his shoulders slump slightly and he sighs. That came out snappier than I intended, and I instantly wish I could force the words back in. It doesn’t do us any good for me to start this on the defensive. I made the decision to see what happens next, with an open mind, and getting frustrated with him will get us nowhere. Earl lifts his body up, his large paws against Maverick’s chest, and sniffs his chin before giving him a rub of his whiskers. Leave it to my furry baby to know when someone needs a little comforting.
Traitor.