Chapter 10
Damon asked, "Do you believe it?"
Maeve thought for a moment. "Yeah, I guess I do."
Damon dismounted from his horse with textbook-perfect grace. He walked over to the fence, standing just a rail away from her.
"Got any plans for the afternoon?" he asked.
Maeve's heart skipped a beat.
"No," she replied.
He asked, "There's a café next to the coach's office. People from the stables hang out there. Want to grab a coffee after practice?"
Maeve looked at him. In the sunlight, his eyes shimmered a pale amber.
"Okay," she said.
That afternoon, they spent three hours at the café.
Their conversation flowed easily, from horseback riding to work, then to their experiences abroad. Maeve hadn't studied overseas for college.
But while prepping for the Terenese test, she'd gotten to know a bunch of friends who had gone to school in Teren.
Eventually, they found themselves talking about their favorite books. Damon liked mystery novels, while Maeve preferred history books.
"Have you read '1667, A Year of Significance'?" Maeve asked.
"Yeah, I have. Ernest Sloan's perspective is pretty unique," Damon replied.
"Which chapter did you like best?"
"The one about Kenneth."
"Why?"
"Because he was too clean," Damon said, swirling his coffee cup. "So clean that he shouldn't have made it in that kind of world, but he did."
Maeve stared at him. "Do you like people like that?"
"I wouldn't say I like them. It's more that I admire them," Damon said, meeting her eyes. "Knowing you're stuck in the mud but still keeping yourself clean. That's tough."
Maeve didn't say anything.
She looked down and took a sip of coffee. Her fingers gently ran along the rim of the cup.
She thought about the past year. She was caught up in Victor's lies and Kayla's provocations, clawing her way up all alone.
No one knew how many times she'd almost given up. No one had ever told her she was doing a good job.
"You—" she began, her voice softer than she'd expected. "You're the first person who's ever said that to me."
Damon looked at her, but didn't press for details.
He just nodded. "See you next time."
*****
After that, Maeve made it a habit to hit the stables every Saturday.
She would do an hour riding and an hour hanging out at the café.
Damon showed up on some Saturdays. Other times, he didn't.
If he were around, they'd chat. If not, Maeve would bury herself in a book.
There was never any flirting, never any crossing the line.
But something was slowly starting to bloom between them.
Like the gardenia on the balcony. Before she knew it, the branches had stretched out, the leaves were greener, and one by one, buds started to appear.
Maeve never went out of her way to water it. It grew on its own.
*****
Twenty months after the divorce, Rudy called.
"Ms. Norman, I have some news for you. Kayla had her second child, a daughter," she said.
Maeve was working overtime at the office.
"Got it," she replied.
"Victor's been moving his assets around a lot lately. I'm keeping tabs on it. Some of the transfers are going through overseas accounts, which are harder to trace. But I'll let you know as soon as I find anything."
"Thanks, I know it's a hassle."
"One more thing. When are you planning to make your move?"
Maeve leaned back in her chair, turned slightly, and gazed out at the city lights.
"I'll wait a bit longer," she said.
"Wait for what?" Rudy asked.
"I'm waiting for him to come to me."
"Are you sure he'll come?"
Maeve let a small smile slip across her lips. "He will."
She knew Victor all too well. He was a man who cared about his pride, and control was as natural as breathing to him.
Kayla had given him both a son and a daughter, but she could never give him the respectability he wanted.
Kayla was too loud, always causing a scene, and had no sense of boundaries.
Once the novelty wore off, once the kids wore Victor out, once he remembered what it felt like to have a peaceful life, he'd come back.
He'd show up at her door with those remarriage papers in hand.
And when that day came—
Maeve shut down her computer, stood up, and grabbed her coat.
"Rudy, I'm heading out. Let's talk tomorrow," she said.
"Alright. Get some rest," Rudy replied.
Maeve stepped out of the office building.
The November night air was sharp as a blade. She pulled her scarf tighter around her neck.
Her phone buzzed. It was a message from Damon: [There's a small show jumping competition at the stables tomorrow. Want to come watch?]
Maeve's lips curled into a smile.
Maeve: [What time?]
Damon: [10 am. Lunch's on me after the competition.]
Maeve: [You're paying?]
Damon: [Yep, my treat.]
Maeve stood under the streetlight, grinning at her phone for a while.
The wind whipped her hair in every direction.
She hugged her phone to her chest.
Her heart was pounding. Not from nerves, but from something else entirely. It was the thrill of feeling truly alive.
*****
Twenty-three months after the divorce. It was already late autumn.
Maeve remembered it vividly. It was a Saturday, the monthly show jumping competition at the stables.
She sat in the stands, watching Damon complete the entire course. When his chestnut horse cleared the final 4-foot jump, all four hooves were in the air, its mane flying in a perfect arc.
The whole crowd erupted in applause.
Damon took second place.
When he got off the horse, sweat was streaming down his forehead, and his hair was plastered to his temples from the helmet. He unbuckled his gear and headed straight over to her.
"How'd I do?" he asked.
"Second place," Maeve said, handing him a bottle of water. "Pretty good."