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After they’d secured the last of the animals, Rue brushed off her shirt and packed up her gear while he folded the backdrop and stacked the props in the corner. When he finished, he looked up to find her watching him.
“What’s next?”
“Next?” One eyebrow lifted. “You mean you’re not ready to run?”
“I’m not much of a runner,” he said wryly. “I tend to hang on long after I’m needed.”
“So I’ve been told,” she said softly. “But I happen to think that makes you amazing. So next, I go back to my house and upload pictures to the rescue web site, and by morning, they’ll be viral.” She paused. “Want to come back to my place and help me choose files?”
“I’m covered in hair,” he said.
She cocked her head. “Really? I only noticed a happy trail kind of thing going on. Covered is a bit of an overstatement.”
“Yeah, I was talking about the animal hair.”
She bumped his shoulder as they walked toward the door. “You might be an animal for all I know. It’s usually the quiet ones.”
“Do I want to know what you know about the quiet ones?”
She stopped, leaving the two of them wedged in the doorway, facing one another. Impeccable timing. “I know you love hard,” she said, her voice almost a whisper in the darkened hall. “And a love like that is fierce, and it’s passionate. And it’s deep. And when you act on that, I bet it’s feral. Maybe not always wild, but always intense. Always earth-shattering.” She tilted her head, seemingly impervious to the terrible gnawing ache that she’d unleashed in him. “There’s not a woman in this world who doesn’t want to be loved like that.”
He swallowed. Hard. “You sound like you know.”
She looked away then, easing from the doorway in the same quiet motion. “No, I don’t,” she said as she walked away. “Never even close.”
He remained a step behind her as she said good-bye to Abbie and Kate, both of whom were also headed out. He watched as they departed, chatting about something that left them in frequent laughter.
Never even close.
He wanted to ask Rue why she sounded so sad about something she’d previously laughed off along with the story of her stolen underwear, but he didn’t get the chance. She spoke first. “I normally take the bus home.”
“Forget the bus,” he said, looking out over the humid night. “Cab’s on me.” Before the sentence had fully left his mouth, he’d flagged one down and scooted in after Rue. She gave her address and sat back against the seat.
He watched, entranced, as the city lights poured through the streaks on the cab window, painting her flawless face with uncharacteristic uncertainty. He’d never seen her anything close to defeated—not even by Boyd. Annoyed, fired-up, but this? This was different.
“Do you regret the whole relationship disaster thing,” he finally asked, “or would that just make it harder for you to get on a plane?”
She picked at a tear in the seatback in front of her. Her nails were the color of cotton candy. In that moment, even they seemed more cheerful than she. “It’s kind of hard to say,” she said. “I’ve never exactly been torn between staying and going. That model I dated for a year was doing his own thing.” She snorted. “Other than the boyfriend, I mean. His work took him from New York to Paris to Milan. He wasn’t in one place any more than I was. It worked. Or so I thought.”
He barely knew her, but knowing she’d never experienced a real, selfless love made him ache inside. Would that have been any different if she stayed put? “You’ve left the city a lot,” he said. “Why will this time bother your mom more than the others?”
“Because I’ve never been gone more than a few days at a time. If I’m awarded the internship, I’ll be gone for weeks. I’ll come back, of course, but never for long. Not as long as I have an option to be out there.”
Another piece fell into place. “I guess that explains why your house doesn’t look lived in.”
“I’m a minimalist by nature, but that’s probably not much of a coincidence.” She grinned, and the spark was back. “I do like the idea of having a home, but not having anything dragging me back.”
