Page 89 of Coffee Shop Girl
Still, the power between us couldn’t be denied.
If I didn’t try, I’d never forgive my cowardice. And at least, this way, I could live with myself.
“It’s not that simple,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because...”
A cold feeling washed over me. “You’re going to accept the position and work for Mallory?”
“No.” He ran a hand through his tousled hair. “I mean ... maybe. I haven’t decided officially.”
My heart felt swollen. Heavy. This was all my fault. I should never have let it happen. Let my aching heart fall hard again. It was like I wanted to remain broken.
“Bethany, if I stay, then you and I are going to fall deeper into ... whatever this is.”
I paused, expecting him to finish, but he’d stopped.
“Wouldn’t that be the point?”
“That comes with expectations.”
“Like?”
He stood. “Like commitment and affection and time and ... expectations.”
“You didn’t mind that affection twenty minutes ago when you slammed me against the wall.”
“Not just that kind of affection. But intimacy. Depth. I can’t control those variables. With successful ventures come expectations. The more successful you are, the more people want out of you. Eventually, you can’t live up to what they want, and everything suffers. Marriages fall apart. Love burns out. I’ve seen it time and time again with business, with Mallory, with Baxter. With my parents. I don’t want that for you.”
“This isn’t a business, Maverick!” I cried. “This is your life. It’s my heart.”
He faltered. “See? Expectations.”
The pain in his gaze stopped me flat. I had no idea what to say next. Maybe he was right. Maybe he wasn’t. But the only thing I knew was that he was leaving. Just like Mama. Just like Pappa. Just like Dad. In a strange, backward way, I understood it. I had created this situation, not him.
Stupidly, I realized that I’d been hoping I would be enough for him. That he’d change his mind because our great match was enough to make him stay. But that wasn’t how this worked. People brought their own issues into relationships. I’d been idealizing him out of desperation.
Out of loneliness, I had created this monster.
Maverick was afraid of failure, bottom line. That fear was bigger than me. I swallowed hard, barely keeping my composure. Perhaps he was right. This wouldn’t be a good thing. Me, so desperate for love. Him, so desperate for success and freedom. We were oil and water.
Fire and ice.
That ancient bad mixture that felt so good.
“I understand,” I whispered.
The anguish in his eyes tripled. He reached for me but stopped halfway. “Bethany, I...”
I stepped back.
“Good luck, Mav. I think it’s best if we part here. It’s only going to be worse for me, so I’ll ask for your compassion in this. But ... I just ... I want you to know that you never disappointed me. The only thing I wanted from you was for you to show up, and you did that. So ... thank you.”
His face fell, and his coiled body didn’t move.
I stepped back, my legs colliding with the chair. Hot tears welled up in my eyes. I blinked them away, my emotions wildly unbound. “I need to go.”
