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I laughed outright. There, right there, was my Ruby. Full of life and fun. To my ears, my laugh sounded rusty from underuse.
“Not here. I’ll take you out, and we’ll have a proper meal with no toasts, no speeches, and no interruptions.”
She smiled and began to nod before checking herself. She looked down for a moment and then brought her gaze back to mine. I noted the slight wince around her eyes again.
“Are you seeing anyone, Vander?”
“No.”
Her shoulders relaxed and she nodded. “I’d like that.”
I could not resist. I leaned over and brushed my mouth against her cheek. The softness of her cheek combined with her scent hit me at the same time, and I couldn’t step away. Exhaling, I lay my cheek against hers, and she pressed her face gently against mine. When I finally managed to draw away, I noted her tightly closed eyes and the pained look on her face.
My God, had I been wrong all those years ago about how she felt? When she stopped fighting for us, I assumed, no matter what she said, that she didn’t feel about me the way I felt about her. To think that I might have caused the pain on her face, gutted me.
“Ruby?” I whispered.
She opened her eyes and read the question in mine.
“Always,” she whispered back, her eyes searching mine for an answer I wasn’t sure I could give her.
I drew her into my arms, her small body, after so much time, soft and yielding against mine. She felt different. It irritated me. Had I been holding her all these years, the changes would have been so gradual that I would not have noticed.
“I would leave right now if I could,” I admitted. “The conference ends at five o’clock. Meet me in the hotel lobby at six. Will you do that?”
She nodded against my chest and worked her hands between us. She pushed away from me, but I wasn’t ready and refused to let her go. She laughed. God, I missed that sound. I smiled down into her upturned face and reluctantly released her.
“Six o’clock,” I reiterated.
“Six o’clock.” She nodded, backed away a few steps, then turned and clicked away on fancy heels that were so foreign to how I pictured her in my mind.
I tore off my glasses and roughly scrubbed my other hand over my face. What the hell was I doing other than torturing us both? I couldn’t move to her anymore than she would come to me.
Still.
I looked at the floor, knowing I would regret what I was about to do. There was no help for it. A starving man doesn’t quibble about where his next meal comes from, and I’d been hungry for a long, damn time.
