She shakes her head stubbornly, like she’s determined for everyone to be okay, to be as small a problem as possible. “I’m okay. I’m not upset, Sissy.”
I kneel, take her into my arms, and gently stroke her back. “It’s okay to feel, Mira,” I whisper.
“I’m fine,” she says stubbornly. “A-Okay.”
“What is it about this guy, huh?”
“He saved me,” Mira whispers. “You weren’t there, Sissy.”
“I was there.”
“You were sleeping,” she says, then carefully corrects herself,“Unconscious.You didn’t see. But he did. And he made it better.”
I swallow a giant ball of emotion and try not to cry. “Come on, let’s get going.”
We walk into the kitchen together. Rhett is standing next to the table, sleeves rolled up on his flannel shirt, cargo pants on,chunky boots, looking ready for anything. He offers me a tight smile. “Ready?”
I look at him for a few moments before replying. He could’ve lied to me, let me live in this fiction for a while longer… but if he’d done that, could I ever have trusted him again? Or would I always be questioning everything?
“Ready,” I say.
Mira takes my hand and leads me outside with him.
“Stay in sight,” I tell Mira as she pushes the shopping cart around a corner. She skips ahead, nodding, slowing down just a little.
Rhett walks beside me, a wall of muscle and presence. He’s close enough to imply we’re together without actually touching me. Now that our masks are gone, we have had no contact.
Find the light…
He was there for Mira. He carried her out of that dark place. And because of him, she’s humming softly as she pushes a shopping cart away. That means something. But it doesn’t make this simple. We’re supposed to be running away, not getting dragged back into our past.
“I saw a gallery across the street,” Rhett says, as he puts a thick cardboard box into the shopping cart. “A walk-in photography exhibition. I might’ve, just maybe, picked this exact Target because I knew it was across the street…”
He sneaks a little look at me playfully. And I smile, telling myself it’s the role, the fake-girlfriend thing. If Lucian were spying on us here, it would be good for him to see me with a big, strong, handsome man.
“You’re so sweet.”
He narrows his eyes, sensing the fakeness. How can every inch of me blaze to touch him, and yet that same body be scared of it too?
At the checkout, Mira insists on helping Rhett load the conveyor. They’re all smiles the whole time. It melts my heart seeing her like this.
After we load the stuff into his car, Rhett leans against the hood, drumming his fingers. “What do you think about the exhibition?”
“Can we, Sissy?” Mira says, tugging on my hand.
“Sure,” I murmur, though I’m not sure.
We walk across the street, Rhett always nearby. The lobby is marble and imposing. It reminds me of the gallery I was going to show my work in once upon a time, before everything went to hell.
The study is on human struggle shown through natural features. Rock faces that look like screaming people and an ocean wave that appears like a blue-fingered hand grasping at something beneath the waves. I stop at this piece, struck, studying the subtlety of the colors, the contrast between the waves and the ocean beneath.
“Do you like that one?” Mira asks.
“It’s impressive,” I murmur. “And beautiful. It’s… chaotic, but has order too. I know that sounds lame.”
“It doesn’t sound lame,” Rhett says. His voice deepens. “It does not sound lame, Sunshine.”
I reach out, take his hand, tell myself the whole time it’s about the threat and the chance somebody could be watching us. But really, I want to feel his warmth, his… presence. Mira takes my other hand, and we all study the impossible hand.
