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“I was in the middle of saying more when he left.”
“So that’s it? She gave up, walked out, decided—”
“Said she’s going to go… talk to her team,” I said airily. “Make some decisions. But there was a lot of weight to the way she said it.”
“Did she give you a sad goodbye kiss?”
I looked away. “That’s the deciding factor?”
“Just answer the question.”
I sighed.
“Shit, she did. Okay, this is serious.”
“I kind of thought it was even before that…”
She folded her hands on the table. “So what are we doing? We killing Kevin?”
“No—we’re not killing anyone. What do you mean, what are we doing? You said it yourself, this is her decision to make. I just… laid my cards on the table, let her know what’s on the line, and now I leave it to her to make the choice that’s right for her.”
“Do I look like I care what I said?” She put her hands up. “You’re in love with this girl, and from what you’ve told me, I’m willing to believe she’s in love with you too. And everyone knows you’ve gotta fight for love, dammit.”
“Sometimes love fights back.”
“Yeah, and that’s when you try harder. You really just want to walk away? Leave it at that?”
“No, I don’t want to—” I gestured at the air, straining for words. “Christ, woman, of course I’m in love with her, and of course I’ll never find someone like her again, and of course I want to be with her no matter what. But what am I supposed to do, force her to throw it all away for me?”
“I don’t know what you’re supposed to do, but—we can work it out together—”
“Then you go first,” I snapped. “If you’ve got any ideas, I’m fresh out.”
She squeezed her hands on the tabletop, looking down. The moment stretched out into angry, strained silence, until it faded out into a sad, aching hollowness, and I sighed, hanging my head.
“Sorry. I’m not mad at you.”
“I’m just thinking,” she said quietly. “There has to be something.”
“You know—” I shifted. “This is my problem I’ve gotten myself into—”
“Don’t even try that. I know you’re better than that.”
I sighed, a long, slow sound, settling into this sick, heavy weight in my gut, and I picked at my sandwich. “Thanks, Ruth,” I said quietly. “You, uh… this… it means a lot. All the help you’ve given me. The way you’ve been there my whole time in this city—”
“Stop talking like you’re walking away,” she said, giving me a dirty look. I swallowed.
“It’s just… a lot. Weighing on me. And I just… even if I end up in Vegas—”
“You won’t—”
“We’ll still be friends,” I said. “Right?”
She studied me for the longest time, dark eyes narrowing, and I watched her cycle through a hundred things to say before she took another bite of her food, chewing it slowly. “Of course,” she muttered. “I’d just… miss that stupid cat.”
“Earl would be devastated without you to blare Real Housewives around him.”
She gave me a thick laugh. “Ah, you and that fucking cat. What is it with lesbians and cats, anyway?”
