Page 129

The smile that spreads across his face is the same one he gave me when I first told him about the offer. “Ruby, that’s amazing.”

“Thank you.” I look down at my hands and run my thumb over one of my rings. “I almost texted you when I left the shop.”

His expression softens. “You could have.”

“I know.” I look back at him. “I wasn’t sure where we stood, so I convinced myself I didn’t need anything from you rather than risk hearing an answer I didn’t want.”

He studies me for a moment but doesn’t interrupt.

“I’ve been thinking too,” I say.

His mouth curves slightly. “That sounds ominous.”

“It might be.” The small laugh that gets out of him eases some of the tightness between us.

“I don’t need you here every night. I don’t need you to give up touring or turn down things you’ve worked for. I don’t need you checking in constantly because you’re worried I’m going to disappear while you’re gone.”

His eyes stay on mine. “What do you need?”

The question shouldn’t feel as big as it does, but it’s been rare for anyone to ask me what I need.

“I need consistency. If you say you’re going to call, call. If plans change, tell me instead of assuming I’ll understand later.”

He nods slowly.

“And I need to be able to tell you I miss you without you hearing that as me asking you to come home.”

His expression softens.

“I’m probably going to hate some nights,” I continue. “There will be days when your schedule is insane and mine is too, and we barely talk. There will probably be times when I’m jealous of everybody who gets to see you when I don’t. I need to be able to say that without you thinking it means I don’t support what you’re doing.”

“I can do that.”

“I know.” I look down for a moment, then force myself to keep going. “The hardest part for me is saying all of this.”

He doesn’t interrupt.

“I’ve always been good at taking care of myself. Sometimes maybe too good.” I turn one of my silver rings around my finger. “If I don’t ask somebody for much, they can’t disappoint me by not giving it.”

Zander’s face changes.

Not pity. Thank God.

Understanding.

“I think I’ve used independence as an excuse for that more than I realized. It’s easy to say I don’t need anything from you. Asking for something means admitting it matters whether you give it.”

He shifts forward in the chair, forearms resting on his knees.

“It matters to me too.”

“I know.”

“No.” His voice stays quiet. “I mean, I want you to ask. I don’t want to guess what you need and get it wrong because you’re trying to make everything easy for me.”

That makes me smile faintly. “I’m rarely trying to make anything easy for you.”

“Thank God. I’d miss it if you did.”