Chapter 25

Maverick

“So, let me get this straight,” Shep says, taking another sip of his drink and then setting it back down on the table between us. “Your girl kicked you out of her hotel and your father fired you? What’s next? Are you planning on getting evicted from your house? Do you need to sleep on my couch?”

“Fuck you,” I groan, scrubbing my face with my hands.

“Dude, how did everything go to shit so fast?”

“I’ve been asking myself the same damn thing. I mean, a week ago, I was trying to figure out how I was going to make a long-distance relationship work,” I pause, leaning onto the table. “A relationship, man. Me.”

Shep nods, his eyes going wide. “I know. I thought I might never see you again.”

“I’m being serious.”

“Me, too. I don’t even know Carys, but I could tell you were balls deep.”

“She’s...” I start, but stop, not knowing what to say. “I don’t know, man. I wish you could meet her.”

Shep sighs, leaning back in his chair. “What about your job? Do you think Spencer will change his mind after he cools down?”

“No,” I answer without having to think about it. “I knew it was coming. If he hadn’t fired me, I would’ve quit. I’d already made up my mind about that.”

“What are you going to do?”

I shrug, thinking about it for a second. “I’ll scrub toilets for the next two years if I have to, but one thing’s for sure, I’m done with Kensington Properties. My only regret is that I couldn’t sell him on my alternative plan with the other properties. I wish there was a way for me to deter him from the Blue Bayou.”

“Do you think he’ll still pursue it even though you told him she’s not selling?” Shep asks.

I look at him, wondering if we’re still talking about my father.

“Never mind,” Shep groans. “This is Spencer Kensington we’re talking about. He’ll attack until he gets the kill.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

“But you said she’s not selling,” Shep says.

“She’s not,” I tell him, confidently. “I just wish there was a way I could protect her from him. I know him. He’ll be on her front step within the week, if he hasn’t shown up already.”

“Did you find out what information he has on her or the hotel?” Shep asks, thoughtfully.

Letting out a deep, frustrated sigh, I shake my head. “No, I just hope it’s something she’s aware of. If I’d had a couple more days, I could’ve maybe gotten to the bottom of it, but there’s nothing I can do now.”

“You can call her, warn her about your father and give her a heads up about what he said about biding his time.”

“She won’t talk to me. I called yesterday and George answered the phone. He said he’d give her the message that I called, but I know him, he was just being polite. I was still Mr. Kensington, which means he’s still pissed at me and protecting Carys.”

“Well, maybe call again and if she doesn’t answer, just leave a message about your father. That should get their attention.”

“Maybe,” I tell him, willing to give it a try.

Later that evening, with Carys weighing heavily on my mind, as she often does, I decide to call the hotel again.

“Blue Bayou, this is Jules. How may I help you?”

“Hey, Jules. This is Maverick,” I start, hoping for a warmer reception from him than George.

“Well, if it isn’t the Big D and I don’t mean Dallas.”

Fuck. So much for that warm reception.

“Um, yeah, so is Carys around?”

“No.”

I take a deep breath and start over. “Look, Jules, I’m sorry for the way things turned out with me and Carys...sorrier than you’ll ever know, but it’s extremely important that I speak with her. It’s about the hotel.”

“I wish I could help you, but she’s not taking phone calls at the moment. She has more pressing things to attend to.”

“Like what? She hasn’t been approached by my dad, has she? Spencer Kensington? That’s why I’m calling, to warn her.”

“That name doesn’t ring a bell.”

I let out a frustrated groan and bang my fist down on my kitchen counter. I can tell I’m getting nowhere with Jules. With no other option than to fly my ass back there, which from the way things ended and the fact it’s only been a week, doesn’t sound like a very smart option, Jules is my only chance to make things right.

“I appreciate your loyalty to Carys and contrary to popular belief, I’m loyal to her, too. I don’t even work for my father anymore; I was fired my first day back. I only want what’s best for Carys and the hotel, so please tell her my dad has some kind of information on her that makes the hotel extremely vulnerable for a buyout. Because I don’t have all the facts, I’m not exactly sure how to help her, other than to warn her. Can you do that for me, at least?” I plead, my tone sounding as desperate as I feel.

I don’t hear anything from Jules for a couple of moments and I wonder if the call was disconnected during my little tirade.

“Okay, fine, I’ll tell her what you said,” he finally answers. “This better not be some kind of ploy to hurt her even more than she already is. I’d hate to bust that beautiful face of yours with my fist, but I’ll do it.”

My lips twitch with a mental image of an angry Jules popping into my mind. Actually, he probably could kick my ass if he wanted to. He’s tenacious as fuck.

“I’d never do anything to hurt her,” I reply, quieter. I mean it, and I hope to put the sincerity I feel in my heart into my words to Jules. “You have to believe me. I’m the Maverick she thought she knew...the same one you knew. I swear. But, if I do somehow fuck up and hurt her, I’d be happy to let you bust my face.”

When I hang up, I sit in my dark living room. Nothing feels the same since I got back and it has nothing to do with losing my job and everything to do with losing Carys. Not that I feel like I’ve lost her for good. My stupid heart is holding out hope that she’ll change her mind, but I don’t know when or how that’s going to happen. My grandfather’s words come back to haunt me anytime I think about flying back to New Orleans: everything good comes to those who wait.

I’ve never been good at waiting. When I turned fifteen and a half, I wanted a car. My father told me to call my grandfather and my grandfather told me don’t get the cart before the horse. At the time, I rolled my eyes, thinking he was old and didn’t know what he was talking about, always trying to sneak his bits of “wisdom” into every conversation we had. So, instead, I took matters into my own hands. I sold some baseball cards my grandfather gave me and bought a piece of shit truck from a guy on my football team.

I wrecked it two weeks later.

Not only did I have a broken wrist and was unable to play football that season, but I also had to wait to get my license.

Everything good comes to those who wait.

Don’t put the cart before the horse.

And my favorite: Don’t expect everything to go right the first time.

Letting out a deep breath, I stand from the chair and walk to my office. The lights in here are dim too, but I don’t turn any more on. Instead, I open up my laptop and bring up Facebook. It’s not the first time I’ve done this since I’ve been back. Actually, it’s my nightly ritual. There’s one old photo of Carys on here, a photo she probably took back when she was in college and opened up her page, but she’s gorgeous. The way the sun is behind her, haloing her face, reminds me of the days we spent walking around the French Quarter.

I want to go back.

To the Blue Bayou.

To Carys.

But I know I have to be patient. Carys needs this time. She needs to figure out what she wants. I want her to trust me and believe me, but I also want her to come to those feelings on her own. I’m hoping the journal I left behind will help, if she gives it a chance...if she didn’t use it for kindling to make s’mores. That thought makes my entire body tense. Leaving that journal behind—a piece of myself, tangible memories of my grandfather...a piece of him—was one of the hardest, yet easiest decisions of my life. Thankfully, I’ve read it so many times, it’s ingrained on my heart...in my mind, woven into my soul. Even if it didn’t exist any longer, I’d still take it with me everywhere I go.

Kind of like Carys.

She’s in there too.