Page 14 of When You're Gone
“I’m okay now,” she assured him, nuzzling her head into his shoulder, the smell of her rosemary mint shampoo noticeable when she sat this close. “And I’m really okay now that you’re here and we’re together.”
Her dismissiveness grated his nerves. “I don’t think you understand, V. Getting that call on Saturday night and being away from you when you were hurt… I hated it. I should have been here, or you should have been with me. We should have been together. After all we’ve been through this year, after everything we sacrificed to get to this place… I just want to be with you as often as possible.”
“I know. I miss you so much when you’re gone.”
“Maybe it’s time we start talking seriously about what’s next,” he suggested softly as he smoothed a hand over her hair.
She craned her neck to look up at him. “What do you mean?”
“Well, if you’re still planning to go back to Holt next year—"
“I am,” she interjected, a flare of defiance in her tone. She hadn’t mentioned anything about resuming classes since her latest surgery. Come to think of it, they hadn’t had a real conversation about any plans for several months. All their energy and focus had been on her procedures. Researching, planning, enduring, recovering. A spark of hope lit him up inside as he realized that was all over—she had the official all clear—and they could shift out of survival mode and focus on what came next.
“And the classes aren’t offered online?” he tried.
“It’s a fine arts degree, Ev. I have to be in the studio for all of my senior-level classes.”
He nodded in understanding. That made sense. He was thrilled she was getting the degree she really wanted instead of just settling for the faster, cheaper degree path. Since she wouldn’t have to juggle work and school, she should be able to complete all her credits in two semesters.
“Okay. Then maybe the real discussion we need to have is about plans for after you graduate. Assuming you’ll finish up in a year, we could be together in eighteen months.”
“Eighteen months is a long time from now, Rhett.”
“It is. It also isn’t. And if we had some sort of plan, it might help—”
She reached up and cupped his cheek before cutting him off. “I see your wheels turning. But I’m not ready to have this conversation. At least not tonight. Can we just enjoy being together right now? It’s my birthday weekend, and I want to celebrate with my husband.”
He let out a long exhale, frustrated that she wasn’t as eager or even interested in talking about what came next. He was more than ready to be with his wife full time. He knew that wasn’t something that would happen in the immediate future, but even just talking through their options would be enough for him for now.
Pushing her wouldn’t help, though. He mentally tabled the discussion for another day as a more immediate idea sprang to mind.
“Hey, what do you think about coming back to Virginia with me on Monday? Now that you have the all-clear to travel, you could fly home with me. I can text Quinn right now and get you a ticket.”
She shifted out of his arms to look up at him, but the server made an appearance at that moment. Rhett ordered a seltzer with lime, and Tori stuck with water.
He didn’t mind her drinking—hell, he loved to watch her let loose and enjoy herself now that she wasn’t obsessed with avoiding alcohol to stave off any increased risk of cancer—but she insisted she’d be drinking at the party tomorrow, so she wanted to take it easy tonight.
“So what do you think? Come to Virginia with me?” Rhett asked hopefully once the server left to put in their orders.
Tori bit down on her bottom lip as she took more time than was necessary to unroll her silverware and place her napkin in her lap.
His heart sank.
“Next week is going to be a busy one, I think.”
“What do you have going on?” he asked, genuinely curious. Besides a couple of shifts at Clinton’s, there shouldn’t be anything else monopolizing her time. And it wasn’t like they really needed her at the restaurant. Mike had hired a few new servers over the past several months when she’d taken off chunks of time to recover from her surgeries. Jake still put her on the schedule, but they didn’tneedher at the restaurant any more than sheneededto make money.
“I’ve got a ton of stuff to do for camp. I didn’t have a chance to tell you about this yet, but there was a fire at Camp New Hope last weekend.”
He raised his eyebrows in concern. “Was it bad?”
“It really was. It started in the kitchen, and the whole mess hall has to be demolished. They also lost the storage shed and everything in it.”
“Weren’t your canvases and paint supplies in there?”
She nodded sadly.
Shit. He had never been out to Camp New Hope, but he knew Tori worked all year to prep, stock, and organize the art supplies for the campers. Half the time he found her in the garage at her dad’s house she was prepping canvases or working on sample projects for camp rather than working on her own artwork.
