“We’ll see you in the morning,” Maverick says smoothly, already stepping back toward the gate.
“Everything else okay?” Tank asks.
And just like that, I remember exactly why giving this man another chance feels like stepping off a cliff.
Because he’s gentle when I least expect it.
Because he pays attention.
Because he sounds like he means it.
All things I’ve been hoping and praying for from him…for years.
“Yeah,” I murmur. “Everything’s fine.”
He studies me for a long moment, like he’s trying to read the parts I’m not saying out loud.
“Good,” he says finally.
But he doesn’t touch me again.
Doesn’t reach for my hand.
Doesn’t tuck a strand of hair behind my ear like he probably wants to.
He just stands there.
Waiting.
And for some reason, I miss the weight of his hands on my hips more than I want to admit.
“Want to come have dinner with me?” I ask before I can overthink it. Because apparently, my mouth and my heart have formed an alliance against my pride.
His expression softens.
“Not tonight, babygirl.”
I blink.
Frown.
Wait.
Isn’t this what he’s been pushing for? Isn’t this the part where he eagerly says yes and looks smug about finally being invited?
“Why?” I ask before I can stop myself.
He doesn’t look annoyed. Doesn’t look relieved either.
He looks… steady.
“I’ve got club business tonight,” he says quietly. “And if I sit across from you at a table right now, knowing I have to leave in the middle of it? I won’t concentrate on anything but you.”
My frown deepens.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It does,” he says gently. “You asked me. That means something.”
