by Leah Ashton
‘I’m not that easily offended,’ he said. At least, not with her. But then—if she was someone interviewing him—he never would’ve answered the original question honestly, anyway.
Actually, he wasn’t entirely sure he’d told anyone the truth before.
Not that it meant anything—it was a trivial thing. Meaningless.
‘Having a privileged background doesn’t mean I don’t have an appreciation for hard work, or for money.’
‘Of course not,’ she said, very quickly.
He knew he could’ve left it at that, but as they walked further along the path he found himself explaining. ‘My dad was a self-made man,’ he said.
Ruby didn’t say anything, but her pace slowed.
‘He started with absolutely nothing—as a labourer, actually. Mum met him back then. He worked his way up, he became a builder. Then began his own construction business, and started to buy and sell property. Sometimes to renovate and sell, other times to hold, or to rent.’
They’d walked straight past the next sculpture, Dev realised. But he didn’t want to stop; if he did, the words would, too.
‘All he wanted for us boys was security. A secure career. A good income. A good family.’
‘So he didn’t want you to be an actor,’ she said.
He lips quirked, but it wasn’t a smile. ‘No.’
Ruby didn’t even glance at the next sculpture. Stairs rose above them, leading out of the cove, and they walked up side by side, Ruby’s fingers brushing against the hand rail.
‘I was supposed to be an accountant.’
‘No!’ Ruby said, and it was such an exclamation that Dev had to grin.
‘That’s what I thought, too. I wasn’t as good at school as my brothers—Dad said it was because I didn’t apply myself, and he was probably right. I just didn’t like sitting still, I didn’t like being quiet and studying in my room.’
‘I believe that,’ Ruby murmured. ‘I bet you were a troublemaker, too.’
‘Yeah,’ he said, smiling fondly at a million memories. ‘Dad didn’t like that, either.’
To their right, greenery and grass reached up to the road above them. Tiny painted totem poles decorated the slope—but Dev wasn’t really paying any attention.
‘So, yeah, earning my first pay cheque meant something. A lot.’
She nodded. ‘Your dad must have been pleased.’
‘I doubt it. I’d moved out by then.’
She looked at him, with questions in her eyes—and as they walked he found himself telling her everything. About that night when his dad had been waiting for him; when he’d been drunk—and arrogant; when he’d felt the crunch of his father’s fist against his cheek.
How he’d never gone back.
Ruby just listened, letting him talk.
‘You were right the first time,’ he said, after a while. ‘About your surprise that a wealthy kid would appreciate a pay cheque so much. Six months earlier, I wouldn’t have. I was spoilt. I did take my life for granted. I’d never have admitted it—maybe because I didn’t even realise it—but deep down I knew I had a safety net. I’d subconsciously given myself the option to fail.’
The footpath ended, and grassy flat parkland spread before them. Large pieces of abstract art—some whimsical, some just bizarre—attracted groups of people. A pride of lions made out of what looked like straw; a delicately balanced collection of chairs topped with two metallic acrobats, and even an oversized mixer tap.
‘But you didn’t fail,’ she said.
‘I couldn’t,’ he said.
No way would he let his dad be right.
‘So you did achieve what your father wanted for you: a career, financial security.’
‘Not the way he wanted.’
They’d left the park, the footpath leading them to another cove, the blue-green waves splashing across tiers of huge, smooth rocks.
‘Did that matter?’
He didn’t know. That was the problem, his problem.
And now it was too late.
So he didn’t answer the question. They just walked, and Ruby didn’t ask again. They followed the edge of the ocean, in silence, until they hit the white sand of Tamarama beach. Ruby quickened her pace a little, and led him between sculptures—finally flopping cross-legged beside a giant turtle constructed of tyre rubber.
He sat beside her, his legs stretched out, the sand warm beneath his skin.
‘A miscarriage,’ she said, out of the blue.
‘Pardon me?’
She was looking at the ocean. Surfers bobbed just beyond the cresting waves.
‘Yesterday you asked what happened. And that’s it. What made me take my life in a less scandalous direction.’
There was a deliberate lightness to her words that she didn’t come close to pulling off.
‘I’m sorry, Ruby.’
She nodded. ‘Thank you. I’d been seeing this guy—a nice guy. From a good family, very smart, very handsome. He had his choice of anyone. I wouldn’t say he chose me, though. Or at least, he didn’t mean to.’
Dev held his tongue, although it was near impossible.
‘It was an accident, me getting pregnant. I hadn’t meant it to happen, although of course that isn’t what people said.’
People. People gossiping about Ruby, judging her.
She shifted a little on the sand, so she faced him. ‘But I was so happy. I didn’t expect it, but it was like—’ she bit her lip, looking down for a moment ‘—like finally I’d have a family. I didn’t care if it was just me and my baby, but then the father surprised everyone and decided to stay with me. He was a good guy.’
She was tracing a hand through the sand, drawing illegible scribbles that instantly faded away.
‘So I had everything: my baby, a guy. It was perfect. Finally I felt like I had a purpose. That I belonged. I wasn’t the girl who people whispered about, I was going to be a mother, and I had a boyfriend who said he’d stand by me. A family.’
Her hand moved from the sand, to her stomach. Somehow Dev knew she was unaware of what she was doing, the way her fingers lay across the perfectly flat line of her T-shirt.
‘I was stupid, and I told people as soon as I knew. I was showing off, I guess. Over-excited—proving them all wrong. I never considered the possibility of miscarrying, and I certainly didn’t understand how common it was so early in a pregancy. And then one day I started bleeding, and when I went to the hospital they told me I’d lost my baby. I felt like my world had ended.’
He couldn’t just sit still any more. He reached for her, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her close against him. She pressed her cheek against his chest.
‘That’s when I figured it out—figured out that I had it all wrong. I dumped the guy—a relief for him I’m sure—and quit my dead-end job to go back to school. I decided I was all I needed in my life—that I didn’t need some guy, or a family, or anyone, to be happy. I just needed me.’
She was so sure, her voice so firm.
But her body shook, just a little.
She tilted her chin up, to look at him, finally.
He didn’t know what to say. Or maybe he knew that there wasn’t anything he could say, anything that would make a difference.
Besides, that wasn’t what she wanted. It wasn’t what he’d wanted, either, when he’d told her about his dad.
So he did the only thing that did make sense—and kissed her.
But it was different from their kisses of before—this wasn’t flirty, although it was certainly passionate. It was...beautiful, and sad, and he was suddenly sure there was something different between them, some connection, something special. And he was the last guy to think anything as fluffy and romantic as that.
But with Ruby, on the beach, beneath the sun and beside the giant friendly tortoise, it was unlike anything he’d ever experienced.
‘Oh, my God, it’s Dev Cooper!’
The shriek tore them apart. Immediately Ruby ret
reated, shrugging off his arm in a brutal motion, and jumping to her feet.
He glanced up to see a group of teenage girls approaching him, all pointing and chattering loudly. Across the beach people were twisting on their towels to have a look, to see what all the fuss was about.
Earlier today he’d seen a few curious, wondering glances, but he’d been lucky. No one had approached him, no one had burst the little bubble that he and Ruby had so inadvertently created. After a while he’d stopped even noticing, he’d been so wrapped up in Ruby.
But that bubble was gone now—destroyed. Ruby was looking back towards the houses and the road above the beach, as if determining her escape strategy.
Not from the rapidly approaching crowd—but from him.
He was on his feet. ‘Ruby—’
She had her phone in her hand. ‘I’ll sort out a car. You won’t be able to walk back to Bondi, now.’
Not we won’t, but you.
She spoke in her work voice, as professional and false as it got.
And as the girls slowed their charge to look at him almost shyly, momentarily lost for words, his pasted-on smile was equally plastic.
But then he was a good actor, so he submitted to the autographs, and the photos, and the screaming—while the whole time all he wanted to do was to yell and shout and tell them all to go away. To leave him alone.
Although even if they did it would be too late. Ruby was only metres away, her arms wrapped around herself, watching.
But that moment had passed. Their moment.
He told himself it was for the best, that it wasn’t something he wanted, or needed.
Just like Ruby, he’d long ago made his own path.
And he walked it alone.
ELEVEN
On Monday evening, Ruby nosed her hire car up the long gravel driveway to Dev’s cottage. Even as she pulled to a stop she wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing.
She’d been driving home from another long day, already planning what she was going to order at the pub for dinner. And then—unexpectedly—she was here.
No. That wasn’t completely true.
It wasn’t at all unexpected. Given the amount of time her subconscious had allocated to Dev today, her arrival here could even be considered foreseeable.
That fact didn’t make it any less a bad idea.
She held the car key in her hand, and made a half-hearted attempt to reach for the ignition before stopping herself.
She was here now. She might as well go talk to him—clear the air.
Yesterday’s flight home had been awkward. There was no other word for it. It was obvious neither of them had intended what had happened at the beach.
She should regret it, she knew. Why would she share something so personal with a man she barely knew?
A few times, during that long hour in the jet, she’d meant to say something. To somehow laugh off what had happened.
But it was impossible. She couldn’t very well tell him: Look, I’ve never told anyone else—ever—what I told you today. Just forget it, okay?
Right.
Last night she’d lain in bed, telling herself she’d made the sensible decision to back away. That her immediate reaction to that dose of reality—as shocking as if someone had dumped a bucket of salt water on top of her—was appropriate.
He was Devlin Cooper. She needed to remember that. It was so easy to be seduced into reading something more into the situation, imagining so much more than there was between them, or would ever be.
He wasn’t looking for for ever, and she certainly didn’t want it.
So today, her mind had wandered for the hundredth time to little flashbacks of how Dev had looked as he’d leant against the wall beside the elevator; or the way he’d looked at her, that moment before he’d kissed her, down at Tamarama...
She shoved open her door, stepping out into the cool evening.
Belatedly she realised the front door was now open. Dev stood, propped against the doorframe, watching her.
Waiting for her.
‘Looked like you were doing some serious thinking there,’ he said as she stepped onto the veranda.
‘No,’ she lied, quickly. ‘Quite the opposite. I was thinking we’ve been spending way too much time being serious.’
His lips quirked. ‘How so?’ he asked, a little gruffly.
Where he stood, half in the shadows and half illuminated by the hallway light, she couldn’t read his gaze.
She stepped closer, attempting what she hoped was a flirtatious, happy-go-lucky, I’m-totally-cool-about-all-this smile.
He took a step backwards, gesturing for her to come in.
But she didn’t. She needed to get this sorted first. They needed to both understand what this was.
‘Maybe you were right,’ she said. Dev raised his eyebrows. ‘A few weeks ago, outside the pub. When you said we were just two single people stuck in a country town. How did you put it? A match made in heaven.’
He nodded. ‘You said you didn’t date anyone you worked with.’
‘Too late now,’ she said, with a bit of a laugh. ‘Besides, somehow we’ve flown under the radar. No gossip.’
‘Except for Graeme. Graeme thinks you’re great, by the way. You should hear him on our drives into set.’
Ruby smiled. ‘Well, then, Graeme is very discreet. I’ll have to thank him.’
They both fell into silence.
‘So what you’re saying is?’ Dev prompted.
Ruby narrowed her eyes. ‘Isn’t it obvious?’
‘Not at all,’ he said. But was that a sparkle in his eyes?
She gave a little huff of frustration. ‘Fine.’ And she closed the gap between them, and before she had the chance to lose her nerve—and just because she wanted to—she kissed him.
Not tentatively, not questioning.
When, after an age, they broke apart, she needed to take a few long breaths to pull herself together.
‘That’s what I want,’ she said.
He was reaching for her again. ‘I like this plan.’
‘Just until the film is over,’ she clarified as he almost carried her inside, slamming the front door behind them.
Maybe it was the sound of the door, or the distraction of Dev kissing her neck, and the shiver it triggered through her body—but her words weren’t as firm, or as clear, as she’d like.
But she didn’t have a chance to repeat them, as now Dev had swept her up into his arms and was carrying her to his room.
And really, now wasn’t the time for talking.
Ruby had dinner with him every night, and they took advantage of all the food in his fridge—which magically doubled in volume, thanks to Graeme.
It was easy, and fun. He continued to pay her no special attention on set, although it was difficult. Especially when Ruby broke her own rules—just once—when delivering an updated copy of the day’s script.
It had been a genuine, work-related visit—but the kiss behind his very firmly closed trailer door was far from professional.
The memory made him smile as he stretched out along his couch. Ruby walked back from the kitchen, a glass of red wine in her hand.
‘Now don’t you look comfortable?’
He smiled, and tapped the space in front of him on the striped fabric. Her eyes sparkled as she sipped her wine, then placed the glass carefully on the coffee table.
She came into his arms easily. How long had it been now—a week? A week since she’d turned up at his front door, still with her rules, but with him, and this film, a temporary exception.
But he could live with this, especially when she kissed him. When Ruby was kissing him, that was all he thought about, all that filled his mind.
But when she left—and she always did—then he would think.
She’d leave around midnight. Ruby said it was because sometimes she gave members of the crew lifts to set—which sounded plausible.
But it wasn’t the real reason. She was keeping this
light, and simple. Waking up together, or breakfast in bed, or conversations where they bared their souls—no. They were not things they wanted, not what this thing they had was about.
They both knew that.
Did she guess he still wasn’t sleeping? Sometimes he thought so. She’d look at him with concern in her eyes, and occasionally he’d be sure she was going to start asking questions.
But she never did.
On set, the rumours had dissipated. Dev had done nothing to perpetuate them—excluding that one morning, he’d never missed his call, had never been anything but prompt and professional. Everyone seemed to love Dev Cooper.
And, thank goodness, there were no new rumours. This was Ruby’s nightmare, the niggling fear at the back of her mind that suddenly All Would Be Revealed somehow, or that the paparazzi that occasionally bothered to make the trip out to Lucyville would snap a photo of her and Dev together.
Which would be difficult—given their relationship existed entirely within the walls of his cottage. Graeme got rid of any loitering cars anywhere near the property, and so far it was proving remarkably effective.
But still—Ruby worried.
And not just about becoming the subject of gossip once again, but about Dev.
She needed to go. She lay curled on his couch, her back to Dev’s chest, a warm blanket covering them both. Earlier they’d been watching a nineteen-fifties Danny Kaye musical they both loved—but not enough to be rather easily distracted. It had long ago ended, the TV screen now black.
Dev was breathing steadily behind her, but she knew he wasn’t asleep. She seemed to have a talent for dozing off, but not Dev. Except for that morning in the penthouse, she’d never seen him sleep. Not once.
He mustn’t be sleeping. Not well, anyway. She knew that whenever she saw the red in his eyes and his skin after he washed off his day’s stage make-up. She’d seen a packet of sleeping tablets in his bathroom, but she had no idea if he took them. She’d never asked.
She’d never asked about anything.
She could guess what was wrong. Extrapolate from what he’d told her at the beach that day. All the rumours had been way off. Her guess was that Dev was still processing his father’s death, and his own grief. That was the cause of his weight loss, his problems sleeping, the sadness in his gaze.