“What? Of course.” Arthur felt his tail swish and stilled it with a sigh. If Emma could start opening up, then so could he. “I’m just… I’m not really myself tonight.”
“Oh.” Rusty scratched his stubble. “Really? What’s up?”
Arthur tried not to be disappointed that Rusty didn’t notice. He had tried to hide it, after all. It was good that nobody had caught on.
“Just…ex crap,” he finished lamely and winced. It sounded cheap to describe it like that. But he didn’t want to go into it, especially when Rusty was looking at him all glazed and distracted, ready to get in the car and head to the airport.
“Never mind,” Arthur continued. “Look, thanks for the offer. Can I get back to you after Christmas?”
“Sure.” Rusty downed the last of his eggnog and slammed the glass onto the drinks table. “Come on, car’s waiting. You have your stuff from the cabin, right?”
“It’s behind the counter.”
Rusty smacked him on the back. “Great! Let’s go.”
Arthur watched, surprised, as Rusty swaggered into the lobby beside him. He’d assumed Rusty would be annoyed, the way he always was when Arthur didn’t do what he wanted.
Rusty peeled off toward the front doors with a jaunty wave. Arthur returned it, wondering what Rusty would do if he stopped him and told him everything that had happened over the past two weeks. Trying to make things right and then falling head over heels into feelings he thought he’d left behind over a decade ago. Watching Emma finally start to open up to the people around her, his pride mixed with a strange panic that he wouldn’t be around to see it.
He had a sneaking suspicion that Rusty wouldn’t give a shit. Just like at Sour Claw. He’d pretended, sure. But he wasn’t a good actor. Arthur had been giving him the benefit of the doubt for too long.
He headed for the counter, pausing when he spotted a familiar minotaur straightening a wreath that hung off the till.
“Oh, hello,” said Joshua Haberdash, tweaking a sprig of holly. “I thought you’d left.”
“I’m on my way. Car’s out front.” Arthur stooped behind the counter and picked up his suitcase. “Merry Christmas.”
“You, too.” Joshua smiled, wiping that infuriatingly dry fur out of his eyes. “It was good to see you. You should come back and visit when the movie comes out.”
“Right,” Arthur said. “Good publicity.”
“Sure,” Joshua said. “Also, we’d love to see you.”
He was as buttoned-up as ever, with no spills or even sweat on his clothes. He didn’t smell like eggnog, just the usual flowery scent that followed him around his day job. He straightened the wreath again. It kept listing to the side. Joshua huffed in irritation, flicking fur out of his eyes once more.
Arthur was struck by a sudden inspiration. He set his suitcase down, unzipping the front pocket and pulling out a small, shiny tube.
He held it out. “It’s not wrapped, but Merry Christmas.”
Joshua looked up from the wreath. “Oh! Um.”
“It’s fur cream,” Arthur explained. “From the best specialist in LA. It’ll fix the dryness. Make it glossy. Give you more volume. Less flopping in your eyes.”
He gestured at the dull fur hanging over Joshua’s face. Joshua flicked it out of the way self-consciously and took the tube. For a moment, Arthur thought he’d screwed up and insulted his dry fur, but after another second of shock, Joshua broke out into a shy grin.
“Wow,” he said. “I’ve heard of this brand. This isfancy. Thank you, that’s so nice.”
“Yeah. Well.” Arthur grabbed his suitcase and headed for the front doors. “Wanted to return the favor, Haberdash. Those white tulips worked wonders.”
Joshua’s grin faded into something softer. “Good. You guys were really great for each other.”
Arthur slowed, a wave of exhaustion washing over him that had nothing to do with long shoots or parties or lying awake in bed filled with a nameless dread that had been plaguing him for the past week. It got worse every time he thought about his LA house, huge and gleaming and empty.
“Yeah,” he said. “I guess we were.”
* * *
Rusty had rented them a limo.
