Page 41 of The Maverick (WaterFyre Rising #7)

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

VANESSA

The next day, we woke at nine in the morning, which was late for both of us.

We showered together in the massive bathroom and had another memorable escapade.

We couldn’t get enough of each other. After the long shower, I chose a coral T-shirt with khaki shorts for Attikus.

I wore a coral top with white flowers and a flowing white skirt.

Attikus took a phone call in his office and told me to start the breakfast order he’d placed after our steamy shower.

Sitting at the kitchen table, I smiled as I ate a bowl of papaya and mangoes.

Last night was unforgettable. Maui now held a special place in my heart.

My body was sore from several rounds of wild sex, but I’d never been more alive.

My body zinged with energy. Attikus was the best lover I’d ever had—a sex warrior who knew how to please me. He knew how to touch me everywhere.

“Why are you smiling?” Attikus stepped out of the office, eyeing me.

My core tightened, remembering what had happened last night.

I finished my papaya and mango and placed the fork down. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“About how good you are in bed.”

“You’ve just made my day, Lily Pad.” He bent to kiss me. “Let’s do it again tonight.”

We should probably take advantage of our last full day together. Tomorrow, we’d be heading back to Providence—back to reality. This vacation had been a dream. But like all wonderful dreams, it would soon end.

“Okay.” I bit my bottom lip, wondering what other skills he had. “I want to walk along the shore today. You want to come with me? We can bring a sketchbook.”

I couldn’t believe I’d shared so much with him last night. But he’d also shared a lot with me. My husband was an artist, but one incident had destroyed his passion and motivation. I would probably have lost interest too. I wanted to erase the pain and grief he’d endured.

Who were these people who had hurt him? They didn’t deserve to live.

“Okay, but I’d rather watch you sketch.” He folded himself into the chair next to me. “We can go after I have my croissant.” He took two croissants from the container, placing one on my plate and one on his.

“I just finished the bowl of sweet papaya and mangoes. It’s delicious. Try it.”

Attikus took a fork, poked a cube of papaya, and popped it into his mouth. “It is sweet.” He poked another cube and fed it to me.

I broke off a piece of my croissant and fed him.

We enjoyed breakfast in silence, like a couple who had been together for a while.

The bright sun, the sound of the waves, and the salty breeze created a peaceful mood.

I could live like this—a carefree life with no deadlines, no worries, and no expectations. But this blissful state was temporary.

He smiled as he finished his cup of coffee.

I wanted to see that smile on him forever.

His story had touched me deeply. Most people in his situation would have succumbed to life’s cruelty and chosen a dark path, but he’d succeeded in building a thriving business.

He inspired me with his persistence and determination.

We were similar in some ways.

Though he seemed stable, I knew that kind of darkness lingered in a person like a dormant illness. It lingered in me. There were days when I hated the world.

I wanted to create something for Attikus. According to our contract, I owed him an artwork. However, this would be something that came from my heart, not because of a contract. A few ideas popped into my head, and one of them made me blush.

We strode hand-in-hand as we walked along the shore. We had the private beach to ourselves.

“How’s your leg?” I asked.

He hadn’t used his cane since the attack. What if he was hiding the discomfort?

“It’s fine. I’d rather hold your hand than a cane.” His eyes gleamed. “The other hand can carry your sketchbook.”

“Why do you have sketchbooks in your vacation home when you don’t sketch?”

“I married an artist, so I need to stock up on art supplies in every home from now on.”

“You think of everything, don’t you?” I swung his hand.

“Part of being successful is planning ahead.”

“And for survival. If you want to defeat your enemies, you need to be several steps ahead of them.”

“Want to be my war strategist?” He smirked.

“No.” I laughed. “It’s common sense.”

“Oh, right. The pragmatic way of living like plants.”

“Hey, nature is intelligent, okay? If we paid more attention to plants, we wouldn’t have so many problems.”

“I’m only teasing you.” He kissed the top of my head. “I agree with everything you’ve said about nature. I’m trying to weave that wisdom into my life.”

We found a shady spot under a few palm trees that bent low to the ground. Attikus spread out the beach blanket,sat next to me, and watched me sketch the seashell near my foot.

I glanced at him. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“How long did it take for your leg to heal? Did you need constant surgery? How often do you go to physical therapy?”

He looked at me for a moment. “Why do you want to know?”

“Just curious about my husband.”

“It took a long time to heal and many surgeries. I go to physical therapy once in a while or when I feel like it.”

“When you feel like it?” Appalled, I gawked at him. “You should go as directed if you want to get better.”

“I am better.”

“Not if you still need a cane to walk.”

His expression changed, and he stared out at the ocean. “Does the cane embarrass you, Vanessa?” His tone turned icy.

“What?” I blinked. “No.”

“Are you sure my handicap doesn’t bother you?”

Confusion hit me for a moment, then revelation surfaced. Oh, my god.

“That’s not what I meant.” I placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“I’m not embarrassed by anything, Attikus.

I just don’t want you to depend on something if you don’t need to be.

You should be strong and free.” I sighed.

“I imagine the cane would remind you of a painful past. If I were you, I’d want to be free of that reminder. That’s all.”

“Sorry, I overreacted.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “You want to accompany me to my physical therapy? It’s at Forrest’s Clinic. He has an amazing team.”

“If you’d like.”

His phone rang in his back pocket, but he let it go to voicemail. The silly man was glued to my pencil drawing of his foot.

But the phone rang again.

“I think you should take the call.”

He reached for his phone, looked at the screen, and answered. “Yeah?” He listened while keeping his eyes on me. “It’s okay. What’s up?” His expression darkened, and I paused my sketching. “Send what you have. I’ll look soon. Keep me posted. Thank you.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked once as he ended the call.

“Emmanuel is dead. He was in a car accident.”