“Well, how's the artist career coming along?”
“I've got a few pieces published,” Ruby lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Sold some work. It's going.”
“That's wonderful. Can I see?”
“See what?”
“Your art. Do you have pictures?”
Ruby hesitated. Showing her art made her feel vulnerable in a way that talking about it didn't. But Celeste was looking at her with true interest, not the detached curiosity people usually had.
She pulled out her phone and scrolled to her portfolio—the work she actually felt proud of, not the half-finished canvases gathering dust in her Chicago apartment. A series of urban landscapes she'd worked on across two years and a series of abstract pieces.
Celeste leaned nearer to see the screen, close enough that Ruby could smell her shampoo again. Close enough that if Ruby shifted even slightly, their shoulders would touch.
She kept very still.
“Ruby, these are incredible.” Celeste looked up in admiration. “I love art and that's partly why I'm going to New Orleans, to see the installations. But this is museum-quality work.”
“You're being generous.”
“I'm being honest.” Celeste scrolled through a few more images. “You have a real gift. The way you capture light and the composition is all so stunning.”
Ruby couldn't remember the last time someone had looked at her work with such uncomplicated appreciation. Unlike Nora, who only saw dollar signs or the gallery owners, who wanted her to paint what would sell.
“Thanks,” she said. “Did you say you were going to New Orleans to appreciate the art? Whatever happened to going simply to have fun?”
Celeste handed the phone back with a shrug. “I had hoped that would happen naturally as a side-effect.”
“A side-effect? When's the last time you did something just for fun?”
“I do fun things.”
“Name three that aren't work or the twins.”
Celeste opened her mouth. Closed it. Her brow furrowed in concentration, and Ruby found the expression endearing. “I... read.”
“Legal briefs don't count.”
“I read other things. Sometimes.”
“This is tragic.” Ruby set down her fork, mock-serious. “Okay. New plan. I'm making it my personal responsibility to ensure you actually unwind and enjoy this festival. We’ll have pure, unadulterated fun.”
“That sounds vaguely threatening.”
“It absolutely is.” Ruby grinned. “Consider yourself warned. By the time we leave New Orleans, you're going to remember what joy feels like.”
Her phone buzzed on the table between them and Nora’s name flashed on the screen.
Celeste glanced at it. “Someone important?”
“Just my agent.” Ruby silenced the phone without looking at it. “She's a bit mercenary about productivity. Keeps pushing me to deliver more quality pieces.”
“That sounds stressful.”
“It's fine. I just need to—” she stopped herself. She didn't want to talk about this. About how she didn’t wish to put her best work out there for the world to see.
“Need to what?”
