Having seen Lando with Holiday, I can’t imagine him being with anyone else. They’re one of those nauseating couples who seem made for each other.
“I don’t want to make the same mistake, spend years being miserable with the wrong person.”
I’m practically holding my breath when I ask the next question. “Is that what you’re doing, waiting for the right person?” Adrenaline floods my nervous system. I shouldn’t even care, but at this point, my self-preservation seems to have gone the way of our winning streak.
“I don’t know, Ruby. Honestly, I never thought I’d find the right person.” His fingers move along my rib cage and up my arm. “But I think around six months ago . . . my mind might’ve changed.”
A flutter stirs low in my stomach, full of presumption. Six months ago was around the time we met, and based on the way his thumb strokes the pulse point in my neck, I’d say I wasn’t being presumptuous at all.
“And then we got married. And no one’s questioned it, because being reckless and impulsive is entirely fitting for me.” He lets out a dry, humorless laugh, and I’m suddenly annoyed.
“You’re not impulsive or reckless. You think through everything. You’re meticulous at the yard. Analytical with the ponies. You always know what the play’s going to be before it happens. Why do you let people think you’re someone you’re not?” It comes out harsher than I mean it to.
“I don’t let . . .” His eyes drift shut briefly. “Besides Hendricks, nobody really sees me. They see whatever version of me they’ve already decided exists. The guy who rides horses, sleeps around, parties too much.” His mouth twists faintly. “And while all that might be accurate, there’s more to me but apparently nothing worth noticing.”
“That’s not true, Miles. I’ve known you seven weeks, and I can see that you’re loyal to a fault, you’re funny, you’re supportive . . . and”—my chest tightens—“you’re the first person who’s ever properly believed in me.”
Miles’s eyes open again, and he watches me. I can see all the questions swirling, waiting to see if I’ll answer them before he asks.
“I’ve been doubted my entire life,” I admit softly. “Ever since I was old enough to understand, my dad made it clear he didn’t think girls were useful for much. According to him, we couldn’t run farms. We were just good for baking cakes and raising kids?—”
Miles snorts, like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard.
“I cannot imagine you baking a cake.”
“Hey, I’ll have you know I make a mean vanilla sheet cake.”
“I don’t even know what that is.” He shakes his head, almost horrified at the idea.
“Well, I’ll make you one someday.”
“I look forward to it.”
I smile faintly, both of us pretending thatsomedayexists. “My point is, I never let other people’s doubts stop me from doing what I wanted. But until you came along, I always had to fight for it. And you, this smug, egotistical dickhead?—”
“Hey, watch it.”
“—were the first person who gave me a chance.”
It wasn’t my intention to bring the mood down, but I have. Yet something is so incredibly freeing about telling the truth toa stranger. Not that Miles is a stranger, as in many ways, Miles knows me better than anyone else I’ve met.
“Ruby, you gave yourself that chance. Look at yesterday. Look how well you played. It was phenomenal. You’re going to be a ten-goaler one day.”
I scoff. Reaching ten-goal is a pipe dream. There are fewer than a dozen ten-goal players in the world, and they’re mostly Argentinians. Unsurprising, given that they start riding before they can walk.
“Ruby, I genuinely think you have the talent to get there. It might take a few years, but you will. Especially for women’s polo.”
I shake my head. “I want to play mixed matches.”
“You will.”
I shrug. I need to get ranked before I can start thinking about reaching ten, but Miles . . . he’s one of the world’s best. He made ten before his accident, and he should reach it again this year.
“When are you getting there?”
His mouth twists. “The new handicaps come out in a few weeks. Not going to lie, if I don’t make it, I won’t be fun to be around for a while.”
“I think you’ll do it. The horses look good. The team looks strong.”
