“Oh, I love her!” Scarlett said, laughing with Ruthie. A dewy sheen coated her skin, making her glow as bright as the lanterns.
“Ruthie runs with the night owls,” her driver said, tipping his hat to us. “She refuses to work days, so she only comes out for special occasions. Notice the roses in her hair? She’s a lady of the night.”
Scarlett and I laughed ourselves into the carriage. Scarlett collapsed against the seat, her head titled back, gazing up at the stars with a dreamy look in her eyes. She reached out for my hand, and I placed my free arm around her shoulder.
“Did you have a good time, baby?”
“Yes.Ohyes. Did I happen to thank you,mio marito?”
“Yeah,” I said, kissing her temple. She tasted savory—salty and sweet. “Too much. I don’t want to hear it again.”
“That’s wude!” Her laughter exploded out. “I meanrude! Damn, I’m so drunk. Hahahaha.”
I laughed with her, resting my forehead against the side of her face.
“You know,” she sighed. “It almost seems like I’m floating with the stars. I love this. So romantic.” She pulled me in and kissed me. “Oh.” She blinked after I had broken it off to get her next surprise from the driver. “I’m still seeing stars.”
I grinned to myself and handed her the small black box.
“What’s this?” She blinked again. Her eyes seemed perpetually hooded, in a haze that made the world around her a softer, more pleasing place.
“Another gift,” I whispered. “Open it.”
“Brando…” She fiddled with the red bow. “You’ve done enough.”
Not nearly.
“Open it, Scarlett.”
“All right, all right,” she said, voice as soft and warm as the air. She untied the bow, setting it aside. Then she lifted the cover of the box. She read the card quietly and then studied it for a moment, her lips pursed. Lifting the stock to show me, she met my eye. “You bought the dance studio from my parents?”
Her parents owned the dance studio in downtown Natchitoches, where Scarlett had trained when she wasn’t traveling around the world. She had loved teaching there once, before she left for Paris, and I hoped someday she’d want to do it again.
I had never gotten over feeling that I had persuaded her to give up something she loved—teaching—for something she excelled at.
“For you.” I couldn’t judge her feelings—I didn’t like the way her lips pinched.
Tapping the card against the box, she sat up straighter and turned her face toward the street, hiding from me.
The streets were still packed, music blaring from dark entrances, their insides glowing with neon light. Ruthie took all of this in stride, her cream-colored mane braided with scarlet roses standing out against the night.
Slowly, Scarlett set the card back in the box, closed the lid, and handed it to me. “Thank you,” she said, but it was curt, no softness to be found. A tear slipped down her cheek, another, and then another, until a pattern formed.
“Scarlett.”
“Give me a second, Brando.”
I couldn’t. I tapped at her face with my sleeve, not wanting to ruin her makeup; she still looked as gorgeous as she had earlier, even better.
“Tell me,” I said.
Turning her wedding ring, she refused to look at me. “You did this—I mean—” She blew out a breath. “You want to go home. That’s why you bought the studio. So I’d want to teach there.”
It took me a moment to catch up to her logic. Even when I did, I knew she was covering up something that went deeper. Tonight, she’d refuse to give me the entire truth—whatever it was threatened to ruin the good time we had.
I watched the box for a second and then flung it out of the carriage.
“Hey!” Someone yelled, and Ruthie pulled her lips back, moving her head up and down.
