I try to swallow. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“I know what you mean now,” she says, looking down at her hands, at the lipstick smudge. “Why you didn’t want me to meet him.”
“He’s an asshole,” I say bluntly. I don’t even care that someone could be around the corner, hearing this. “Plain and simple. Always has been, always will be.”
He’s actually more than an asshole. I know firsthand he can be dangerous. But Ruby doesn’t need to know that.
“Yeah, well…” She closes her eyes and sighs, leaning her head back against the wall. “Luciano…”
“Yes?”
“I think I’m drunk.”
“Are you now?” I humor her.
“I’ve been having a staring contest with a horse for an hour. I’m drunk.”
“But it’s a good step, isn’t it?”
“I’m not trying to face my fears here,” she says, her eyes opening and fixing on me with such clarity I feel it in my bones. “I didn’t come to Europe to face my fears. I came here to run away from them. You’ll help me, won’t you?”
“Run away from your fears?”
She nods. “Yes. Run and run and leave them behind me for good.” She reaches over and pats the spot next to her on the bench. “Luciano. Come here.”
I sit next to her, my shoulder rubbing against hers.
She reaches out and grabs my hand, holding it.
I stare down at her soft white skin against my tanned, rough hand.
“I consider you my friend,” she says.
Not exactly what I want to hear, but I’m not disregarding it either.
“Same to you,” I manage to say.
“I mean it. My only friend.”
“Marco is your friend,” I say after a moment.
“You know he isn’t. You know he doesn’t really care.” She squeezes my hand and rests her head on my shoulder. Her hair smells like honeysuckle. I have to close my eyes and breathe in deep, though it does nothing to calm me.
What are you doing?
You shouldn’t be doing this.
“He cares about you,” I tell her, my voice coming out in a murmur.
“You care about me,” she says. “Why is that? Why is it that you care?”
Jesus.
“Anyone that knows you would care about you.”
She lifts her cheek off my shoulder and stares up at me with those big blue eyes.
“So how come you know me? How come I let you know me?”
I blink at her, licking my lips. “I-I don’t know.”
“Because we’re the same,” she says. She lets go of my hand and straightens up, twisting her body to face me, her hands going up behind my neck and linking together, her forehead resting against mine as she stares deeply into my eyes.
Fucking hell.
I suck in my breath, watching her like everything I know in my life might go tumbling over the edge, defying gravity.
“Luciano,” she says, drawing out my name. “We’re the same. That’s why I know you and you know me. You may be a famous footballer here and I may be nothing at all, but we are the same.”
I’m staring at her lips as she speaks, wishing that I wasn’t getting hard, wishing that this was happening under other circumstances.
“You’re not nothing,” I whisper.
“Don’t you believe me?” she asks, looking pouty and hurt, and dear lord that’s one hell of a combination.
“I believe you.” I place my hands over hers and take them off from around my neck. As much as I want to hear her drunken words about how we’re the same, she’s still Marco’s girlfriend, and she’s also drunk as hell. What I need to do is get her out of here and get her home.
“Come on,” I tell her, getting to my feet and pulling her up to hers.
She nearly collapses into me, giggling, and then tries to grab the champagne bottle.
“Leave it,” I tell her. “You’ve had enough.”
“I don’t think so,” she mumbles into me.
I put my hands on her shoulders and try to look her in the eye. “Ruby. I’m going to take you back home now, okay?”
She lets out a caustic laugh, eyes avoiding mine. “Home? I don’t have a home. Haven’t you figured that out yet? I don’t have a home.” She’s still laughing, but there’s pain in her laugh.
“I’m taking you back to your hostel, to your bed.”
“Fine,” she says despondently, and I’m relieved I don’t have to argue with her.
I put my arm around her shoulders, ignoring how comfortable it feels, and lead her down the aisle of the barn and back into the golden sunlight.
We get in my car—there’s no point in letting anyone know we’re leaving—and then we’re heading down the road. Ruby sits in silence beside me, no longer singing to Adele songs or peppering me with questions. She’s not passed out either, she’s awake and watching the world go past outside the window.
By the time I pull up outside her hostel, it’s dark outside and her eyes are starting to flutter with sleep.
I take one look at her, strangely vulnerable as she’s slumped in the seat, then one look at the hostel with the group of young people outside smoking, and I know that’s not an option tonight.
She’s coming home with me.
Seven
Luciano
The next morning after I wake up, I throw on sweatpants and a t-shirt, stepping out into the living room. I’m quiet, mindful of the fact that Ruby is sleeping on the couch.
Sunlight is streaming in through the windows and, as I round the corner, I hear her snoring lightly. After I told her she was going to sleep at my place, she didn’t protest at all. In fact, once I got her up to my apartment, I was trying to bring her to the bedroom, telling her that she could sleep there and I would take the couch, but she wouldn’t have any of it. She flopped down on that couch, proudly claiming it, and then she was asleep in seconds.
Luckily I don’t have any plans today, and I’m not sure she does either.
I walk over to the edge of the couch and stare
