“Really?”
“Mmm-hmm. Who needs fine when we could do something truly unique? We can do this and come out the other end better than fine.”
His gaze dropped to her mouth again, right as she stopped talking to lick her lips. He pressed away from the side of the car. “Let’s take this outside.”
“Sounds ominous.”
“I think a little air is necessary for this kind of talk. Space.”
Right. Good call.
She turned and headed out. Night had fallen fast. She blinked into the darkness when the golden light of the workshop switched off, then the groan of the roller door closing echoed over the night.
Rafe followed her through the doorway till they stood, two lone figures in the great gaping concrete entrance. Pale moonlight poured over his broad shoulders, the waves in his hair. There was so much unspent energy coiled within him he practically glowed.
She didn’t think it would serve her cause to tell him that they could be in the middle of a field, a desert, a shopping centre car park and it wouldn’t make a difference. Any time she was near him space was irrelevant.
Then, his hands delving into the pockets of his jeans, his shoulders lifted to his ears before he let them drop. “I’ve listened. I’ve heard you. Now I need you to hear me. You’ve come looking for something that just isn’t there.”
“What do you mean?”
“The kid you once knew, the one you came here to find, I left him behind a long time ago. The scourge that came with being my father’s son, the pressure to never set a foot wrong, the burden of keeping Janie alive. That’s so far in my past I barely think about it any more. But then the moment I saw you, it all came rushing back.”
Rafe’s words hit—snick-snick-snick—like arrows to the chest.
Sable looked down, knowing she wouldn’t be able to school her features. Unlike him, it was a skill she’d never figured out.
It wasn’t a no, it was a plea. But could she heed his words and walk away? Should she? In her past, it was what she would have done. Bent to his will to ensure he was happy. But now? She was on a mission here, to no longer bend.
Rafe swore beneath his breath, muttering something about patience and strength. She felt him near right before he nudged a finger under her chin and forced her to look him in the eye.
“Know what else?” he said, his voice rough. “You’re not the same girl either. That girl was so tangled up inside—about her mother, about her future, about what people thought about her. But now...”
“Now?”
“Steel,” he said. “Along the way you’ve found yourself some inner steel. It suits you. A great deal.” A quick smile, then it was gone. “But the vision you’ve built up inside your head, of how this idea of yours could ever work, it’s based on a phantom. It’s not real.”
Sable swallowed when tears suddenly burned at the backs of her eyes. Panic rising in her throat, she dug deep, connecting with those threads of steel that now wound their way through her body, and said, “Let me prove you wrong. Ask me anything and I’ll show you I have it covered. I’ve got this, Rafe. I promise.”
“Anything?” he said.
Sable tried to ignore the skitters along her skin at the warning in his voice. “Bring it.”
“All righty, then. Where would you live? With your mum? No. That would be a disaster. And not here, you made that clear. So LA? From what I gather, LA might not be a good fit right now. So if not LA, how will you find work? Will you work? Do you still work? If you work, will you get help? A nanny? If not, what if you get sick? What if the baby gets sick? And when you say ‘no strings’ what does that even mean?”
Once he’d stopped long enough to take more than a single breath, she said, “You done?”
“For now.”
“All right, then. I plan to live in New York. Brooklyn, to be precise.”
Rafe’s frown deepened.
“There’s community, neighbourhoods, without the claustrophobia of a small town. Urban suburbia: the perfect place to disappear and simply live. Which sounds pretty much perfect to me. I have a real estate agent on the lookout for an old brownstone in need of some love, near my agent, Nancy, who is also a great friend. There’s a brilliant day care on her block and a great independent school. I will work.”
As she said it, she knew it to be true. And after months of struggling to feel inspired, struggling to find her voice, it was a blessed relief to have the urge again. No more magazine shoots in Greece, though. She was doing something real.
“But I don’t need to work. I’ve done well for myself over the years but haven’t had need to touch much of it.”
Her eyes having adjusted to the moonlight, she saw the shadow pass over his eyes just before he said, “Because you lived with him. Your ex.”
“Do you have questions about that too?” she asked.
His gaze darkened. “Only one.”
Her voice was gentle as she said, “I didn’t hear a question.”
“Am I your fall-back plan?”
“No!” she said, taking another step his way. Reaching out a hand to him, before curling her fingers back into her palm. “God, no. It’s not like that.”
One eyebrow slid north. Disbelieving.
But how could she possibly tell Rafe what she’d only come to realise since it all fell apart: that she’d stayed with her ex for so long out of habit? That after the excitement of her first year abroad—the prize, the show, the feting—had died down, she’d been so very lonely. Riccardo had contacted her a month after attending her show—asked her out to lunch. How could she explain that she’d taken that first crumb of attention and held onto it with all her might?
