“Can I see more of your work?” Celeste asked when they'd finished eating. “Particularly the pieces you don't usually show people?”
Ruby hesitated, her expression shifting to something more guarded. “Why?”
“Because I want to understand you better and I think your art is part of that.”
Ruby clearly weighed the idea in her mind, then she nodded and pulled out her phone, scrolling down to a folder labeled ‘Mine’.
“Here are more of the ones I paint when I'm not thinking about what will sell or what people will like. Only what I need to express.”
Celeste took the phone, swiping through image after image. They were stunning—abstract pieces that somehow captured emotion in color and texture, landscapes that felt alive and portraits that seemed to stare into your soul. But more than that, they were honest and vulnerable in a way that made Celeste's throat tight.
“Ruby, these are incredible.”
“You're just saying that.”
“I'm absolutely not. These are museum-quality pieces, better than most of what I saw at the MoMA last year. People would pay a fortune for these.”
“I'll never sell them. I make more ordinary versions and those are what I sell.”
“But why?” Celeste set the phone down, giving Ruby her full attention. “Why hide your best work?”
Ruby shrugged, but she glanced down at the floor. “Because the good ones are too much of me. If people rejected them, if they thought they were worthless…” She stopped, swallowing hard. “It's easier to sell the mediocre stuff. That way, if people don't like it, it doesn't really matter. It's not actually me they're rejecting.”
“But you're hiding yourself,” Celeste said. “Just like I've been hiding myself. And look how well that's worked out for both of us.”
Ruby's laugh was hollow. “Fair point.”
“Can I see what your agent thinks about all this? The texts you mentioned?”
Ruby pulled up the message thread, handing over the phone. Celeste scrolled through Nora’s increasingly urgent messages. The most recent ones mentioned a wealthy art patron named Jonas Ford specifically, encouraging Ruby to bring her best work to the festival and take this opportunity to connect with someone who could change her career.
“She really believes in you,” Celeste noted.
“She believes in money. Jonas Ford has a lot of it.”
“Maybe. But she also seems to truly think you're talented.” Celeste handed the phone back. “Are you going to meet with him?”
“I don't know.” Ruby set the phone aside, rubbing her face with both hands. “What if I show him my best work and he hates it? What if I'm not as good as I think I am and I burn out again and end up back in the hospital?”
Celeste reached over, pulling Ruby's hands away from her face. “Listen to me. Just because you failed once doesn't mean you'll fail again. That's not how life works. You learned from what happened. You're stronger now and more aware of your limitations.”
“But—”
“And,” Celeste continued, squeezing Ruby's hands, “you're absolutely more amazing than you give yourself credit for. Your talent is extraordinary.”
Ruby blinked back tears. “That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me.”
“It's the truth.” Celeste cupped Ruby's face, wiping away a tear that had escaped with her thumb. “You're so much more than you let yourself believe.”
Ruby kissed her then, desperate and grateful. It escalated quickly, the emotional intensity transforming into physical need. They tumbled back onto the bed, hands seeking skin, mouths hungry.
“Wait. I have something—hold on—” Ruby leaped out of the bed and dug in her duffle bag.
When she turned back, she was holding a vibrator. “I, uh, packed this. Just in case. We don't have to use it if you don't want to.”
Celeste pulled her back down, kissing her hard. “Yes. Definitely yes.”
Ruby's hands were reverent as she undressed Celeste, taking her time even though they were both already breathing hard. “I could do this for hours,” Ruby said, her tongue darting out to taste the salt of Celeste's skin.”
