With a steady breath, I think about her question. “The same, I suppose,” I’m done talking about my life. “How’s your mom?”
This is painful. We are talking like strangers, yet I know her more intimately than I’ve known any other woman. Knew her intimately.
“The same.” She smirks, which helps lighten the situation. “So, this is awkward, isn’t it?”
One thing I love about Eloise Matthews is she’s not afraid to come right out and address the very large elephant in the room. Us.
“It doesn’t have to be.” She nods at my response but adds nothing more before returning to the task at hand. I keep Riddick at my side and run a hand down his mane.
I observe as Eloise snaps a few more photos, testing the different angles and lighting, then making adjustments before continuing. I could do this for the rest of my life and not grow tired of the view. I want to learn each new curve of her body. Lose myself in her again.
“Okay, I’ve gotten a few from here. Is there somewhere else you want to show me?”
“Of course.” Not ready to let her go, I plan out a few additional spots to visit as we mount Riddick.
We spend the rest of the evening learning as much about the other’s new life as we can. We find a less awkward way to open up to one another. Eloise tells me about her work, LA, EmmaJean, and the celebrities she represents. We don’t touch the harder topics.
The toughest thing I encounter all evening while in her presence is not showing her how much I miss her... and her lips on mine.
We return to the ranch, finding lighter and more lifted spirits during our time together. That's until the moment we reach the front porch. Eloise’s shoulders sag. That weight I worked so long lifting during our evening together is back again.
She sighs and pauses at the base of the steps. “Dad and I had breakfast together, and I spent all afternoon at his bedside. He ended up sleeping most of it. Then I stared at him and thought about how much time we lost. I’m not sure I can keep doing it, but I have to try,” she tells me.
I grab her hand, tangle my fingers into hers to stop her ascent up the stairs. Her breath catches in her throat, and the moisture pools in her eyes.
“You’re strong enough. And you’re here now. He’s here now. Just be together and let everything else fade to nothing.”
She walks down a step and pauses where we are at eye level. “Keep telling me to live in the moment. Forget everything else. Because as much as I keep telling myself, I forget sometimes.”
“I’ll keep telling you.”
And then it happens. She’s looking at me. That wayward strand of red hair blocking my view of her eyes, so I push it out of the way with my other hand. I tuck it behind her ear, and I’m so close her breath becomes my breath.
My heart still beats for this woman—not sure it ever stopped. It’s pounding away in my chest. And as much as I want to close the final bit of distance between us, I can’t.
I step back, create space so I can clear my head. Her eyes are closed, her chest rising and falling with the staggering breaths she’s trying to catch. Her eyes open, and they know. They know why I stepped away. Because there’s one thing, neither of us can forget… how much it broke us when we separated. And this is only a temporary blip in our lives where we are on the same latitude and longitude, on the same point in time. But it won’t last. Never does. Life is all about giving you a glimpse of something good and beautiful, then tearing it away. This time, perhaps if I avoid my life’s greatest temptation, it won’t hurt so much when I lose her again.
She turns to walk inside and spares me one more glance over her shoulder before she slips inside and shuts the door.
Chapter Five
Eloise
I lean my back against the door the moment I shut it behind me. My fingertips rest on my lips because they tingle with the possibility of having Maverick’s lips on mine again after all these years apart.
Thoughts of him have filled my days more than I’d care to admit, but they’re always tangled with the fact he broke my heart. Why didn’t he love me enough to follow me?
The more I think about it now—the way he looked at me tonight with so much longing and desire—maybe he didn’t want to let me go after all. But he knew he had to let me go. I hoped he loved me, and that was enough to make everything else work out in our lives. It’s not always enough.
I pull myself together and walk down the hall toward my father’s room. Mallory was right. More often than not, I find him in his bedroom. I’ve only been here three full days, and I’m certain of that part of his routine. I take the stairs two at a time as I make my way upstairs.
The bedroom light is a dim glow, like usual, when I step through the doorway. He smiles my way when I reach his bedside and struggles to sit up. I rush to help him because if he tries to work too hard, he’ll go into another coughing fit. Mallory said they happen, and more often, as the cancer worsens in his lungs.
“Did you get some good photos today?” He asks.
“Sure did.” I sit on the edge of his bed and look at the black camera screen.
“Tell me about your afternoon,” Dad says before I work up the nerve to ask the questions I decided to ask him. I’ve been researching treatments online, and I want to know what options he’s taken and inquire more. I hate that I don’t know if he’s tried everything.
Dad crosses his hands and rests them on his lap. When I meet his eyes, there’s a twinkle in them. My brow wrinkles, and I shoot him a look in response to the way he asks about my afternoon.
He chuckles. “Mallory mentioned you spent all afternoon with Maverick.”
“Oh.” I inhale a breath, my thumb absentmindedly tapping the camera. “He took me out on Riddick to some different spots so I could grab the photos for you.”
“Did you have a nice time?”
“Well, sure.” I look down at the camera screen, but my eyes stray to my bracelet. This bracelet has never left my wrist since Maverick gave it to me. I was certain that night that he loved me as he hooked the links together. And even though he told me he didn’t the next night, I hadn’t parted with this last piece of him he left me with.
“Where did he take you?” Dad continues his questioning, and I settle further on his bedside by bringing my leg under me.
When I glance up at him, there’s a soft smile on his lips. I tell him of all the places we rode with Riddick, falling into a simple and beautiful moment with my father. By the time I leave him later that night, I have to wipe the tears away.
I crawl into the guest bed and send a prayer that I can wake up to breakfast with him tomorrow. Maverick’s voice echoes through my mind and carries me to sleep.
“Can you tell me how you met my father?” I ask Mallory from my spot by the kitchen counter the next morning.
We’ve started this morning together like every other morning. I always find her preparing breakfast when I come downstairs for coffee—the only thing I require when starting my day.
I’ve wondered about their story but never asked. With Mallory’s focus on the omelets she’s preparing, I find my opening.