Wyatt nods slowly. “Nobody’s saying you will be,” he says. “That’s the funny thing about choosing someone, Travis. From the outside, it might look like a sacrifice. But on the inside? It feels like purpose.”
That hits hard.
He claps his hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “Think about it, Trav. It doesn’t matter how it began. The only thing that matters now is how it ends.”
Wyatt heads back to the house, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I spend a few more minutes with the animals before heading outside again.
This time, when I look up at the stars, I take a deep breath and, for the first time, let myself really considerwhat if.
Chapter Ten
Maisey
The sun was up by the time I pulled myself out of bed.
We were only a few days away fromtheday. The end of our marriage.
Travis had kept me up until almost two in the morning, pulling more and more orgasms from me as if he, too, were on a mission to squeeze in every last minute of our time together.
My body ached most deliciously, and clearly, I needed the sleep after our antics the night before, but still, I was mad at myself for sleeping in even for a few minutes. I didn’t want to waste any of my time with Travis or the ranch.
The last thirty days had gone by so quickly it was hard to believe I was still the same city girl who’d set foot in the barn that first day, having never really seen a horse up close before. Now I was an expert rider. Okay, maybe not anexpert, but Pico and I had become a great team, and I loved going on trail rides with Travis. More than once, he’d let me tag along while he checked the fenceline and completed other chores.
Not wanting to waste one more moment, I rush through my shower and, needing something in my stomach, quickly scarf down a banana. I’m just about to head outside with my easel and paint set when my phone rings.
I don’t immediately recognize the number on the caller ID. But it’s a Toronto number, so I snatch up my phone, answering it quickly.
"Maisey Brooks?”
"Yes?”
"This is Annika Worthington from the Toronto Side Street Gallery.”
My heart stutters in my chest. I’d sent a resume to her on a whim. There was no way I’d ever expected to hear back from her. Not in a million years.
"Pardon? I’m not sure I?—”
"Annika Worthington,” the woman repeats.
"From the Toronto Side Street Gallery?”
"Yes,” she says, her voice laced with the slightest trace of annoyance. “I received your resume, and I must say, I’m impressed with some of your volunteer work, and your portfolio is impressive in its own right.”
"Wow.” I press a hand to my chest. “Thank you. That’s…wow. Coming from you, that’s quite the compliment.”
"Right.” She clears her throat. “In any case, we’d like you to come in for an interview. If you can?—”
"Yes!” I catch myself and try to temper my excitement. “I mean, yes. I would love to come in for an interview.” I quickly grab a pen and a piece of paper. “I’ll be out of town until…” I glance around as if the answer is somewhere in the cabin, and a wave of sadness washes over me at the thought that I won’t ever see this place again.
Or Travis.
But that’s what we agreed to. That’s real life. Travis is not real life. This ranch isn’t real life.
Even if I’m starting to wish it were.
I shake my head clear and refocus on Annika and what could be the opportunity of a lifetime. “I can be back in Toronto next week. What day is best to come in?”
Travis
