And he’d given her that ridiculous speech about being friends, or whatever the fuck he’d said.
So maybe she’d taken him at his word and moved on to someone else.
Was that why she’d hesitated to kiss him? Was that why she seemed so jumpy? He’d thought she was shy. He’d thought she was… fragile.
Maybe she was just guilty.
Ah, shit. He was jumping to conclusions.
Evan frowned down at the flowers, catching sight of a little white card tucked between the green stems. He didn’t mean to look, exactly, but the word childish leapt out at him. Confused, he squinted at the golden, printed script
Don’t be childish, baby.
He shouldn’t have read that.
But he hadn’t meant to read it. It had just been there. His eyes had just…
“Evan?”
Her voice made him jump, as if he’d been doing something illicit. Which he had, really. Guilt flooded him as if he’d thrown the flowers out the damned window instead of just reading the card.
But Christ, he really shouldn’t have read the card.
Ruth came padding down the hall in a new set of pyjamas. The T-shirt was as oversized and high-necked as ever, the bottoms as long as loose as always.
He had no idea why people thought of her as a seductress. She was the least seductive person he’d ever met.
And you still want her desperately. So what does that tell you?
The same thing as the roses, he supposed.
Forcing a smile, Evan hefted the crystal vase—like she could miss it. “You got flowers,” he said.
Her face fell. His heart headed in the same direction.
This was the part where she broke down and confessed to having a boyfriend who was InterRailing around Europe.
Except she didn’t. Instead, she said, “For me?” Her voice was quiet, hesitant. She looked suddenly horrified, seeming to shrink in on herself, collapsing like a disturbed soufflé.
Evan’s gut twisted. The suspicions crowding his mind couldn’t change the fact that an upset Ruth was not something he wanted. “Yeah.” He searched for the right thing to say and came up blank. “They’re… I bet they’re from your dad, or something.”
Ruth laughed, but the sound was hollow. “I don’t have a dad. I mean—my dad’s in Sierra Leone. With his wife.”
Wow. Somehow, he’d managed to say exactly the wrong thing.
Nice one, Miller. Fucking fantastic.
All at once, Ruth strode forward. She pulled the vase from his arms with a grunt, taking the weight before Evan realised what she was doing.
“Hey, let me carry that. It’s heavy.”
“No,” she said flatly, heaving it down the hall.
“You’ll drop it.” He rushed after her, back toward the kitchen, holding out his arms in preparation for some tragic, Ruth-like disaster.
“Calm down.” She reached the table and put the vase in the centre with a heavy thud. Then she reached into the blood-red blooms and plucked out that fucking card.
Evan hovered beside her, holding his breath, watching her face as she read. How had this happened? Ten minutes ago, she’d been ready to kiss him. Now he was trying to figure out if she was seeing someone else.
She sighed heavily and put the card on the table.
“Who are they from?” The words shot from his mouth without permission. He hadn’t meant to ask something that sounded so damned desperate. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer that.”
She looked over at him, a little furrow between her dark brows. “It’s… an apology.”
An apology? Don’t be childish, baby?
She was lying. Except, he knew what Ruth did when she was being less than truthful, and she wasn’t doing any of those things now. Her face wasn’t carefully blank, her eyes weren’t dead, and she wasn’t pushing him away.
Like a robot jerking into motion, she straightened up and grabbed a fistful of roses from the vase. Ruby petals peeped out from between her knuckles, the stems dripping. She turned toward the dustbin.
“Uh…” Evan frowned. “What are you doing?”
Ruth shoved the flowers in the bin and looked up at him. “You want them?”
“No,” he said slowly.
“Well, neither do I.” As if that settled the matter, she grabbed some more roses.
“Ruth.” He stepped forward, reaching out to still her hand. She sucked in a sharp breath as his fingers caged hers, bringing her movements to a stop.
Her eyes flew to his, and for a moment their gazes met. With Ruth, that was so rare, it felt momentous.
Just as quickly, she looked away again. But he didn’t mind. It would be ungrateful to taste a drop of heaven and ask for more.