Fourteen
O n Rheo’s second day back at work, her third Fletch-free day, Nicole assigned her a simultaneous translation for a Spanish delegation taking part in a preliminary discussion on worldwide fishing rights and quotas.
It was, she knew, her boss’s way of tossing her into the deep end.
Taking a seat in her booth, Rheo adjusted her microphone and wondered why she wasn’t feeling nervous. It could be because, compared to feeling broken-hearted and emotionally shattered, she had no bandwidth left to feel nervous about translating. She missed Fletch with every part of her, from the tips of her toes to the ends of her hair.
Having no memories of being with him in the city, she’d believed she wouldn’t miss him as much here, but it didn’t make any difference at all. She missed their connection, their conversations—both silly and serious. She longed to hear his voice, be warmed by his laugh. Yes, she missed the sex, but she missed him more.
She missed her friend, her lover, the flip side of her coin.
Rheo looked at her watch, saw she still had five minutes before the meeting started, and put her head in her hands. She wasn’t even worried about talking to Paddy anymore; she’d messed up, and Paddy either accepted her explanation or she didn’t. Rheo wasn’t going to put a knot in her stomach anticipating her grandmother’s reaction. She loved Paddy, but she wasn’t going to live her life anxious for her grandmother’s approval.
Compared to missing Fletch, nothing else affected her emotional landscape. She missed everything about him...
Sure, having a relationship with him would have been difficult. Yes, they wouldn’t see each other for months at a time, but what was the alternative? Not seeing each other at all? That was unacceptable to her... But he was terrified of the love she’d offered him.
This was the reality of her life. And it sucked dragon balls.
Rheo checked her watch and looked over the meeting room, wondering why so few people were seated at the desks. The meeting was supposed to start in a few minutes. Pushing back her chair, she popped her head out of the booth and caught the eye of a fellow translator standing in the hallway next to the entrance to his booth, scrolling through his phone.
“Hi, Yusaf.” She gestured to her booth. “What’s going on? What’s the delay?”
He looked up and smiled. “Yeah, one of the members collapsed and they called an ambulance. Security pushed the meeting back an hour. I’m going to grab a cup of coffee. Would you like to join me?”
His offer surprised her. Before she left, her colleagues avoided her, possibly because they thought her meltdown was contagious. Yusaf’s offer meant they’d put her mistakes behind them and moved on. She should too. If she was going to do this job, then she had to do her job and stop looking for pitfalls and problems. She had to be all in.
But before she could move forward, there was something she had to do. When it was over, she could start fresh in every way.
She sent Yusaf a smile. “Can I take a rain check?”
She caught the disappointment in his eyes, and a little flash of contempt. He thought she was the Rheo from before. The one who kept herself apart, who didn’t bother to engage.
“Yeah, sure,” he said in a flat voice. Rheo suspected he wouldn’t make the offer again.
As he started to walk away, she grabbed his arm. When their eyes met, she managed a tentative smile. “Please ask me again—I promise to say yes next time. I just need to phone my grandmother. It’s something I’ve been putting off because we’re about to have our first argument in...well, the first one ever. I’ve always looked up to her, and I’m about to disappoint her. She’s not going to be pleased.”
Yusaf looked surprised, then gratified, to hear her explanation. “The weight of family expectations, huh?”
She nodded, grimacing. “But I’m trying to live my code of what’s right and wrong, and not theirs.”
“Good luck,” he said, smiling. “And we expect to see you at our next poker night, Whitlock.”
Damn. “I don’t play poker, but I’m willing to learn,” she told him.
Yusaf grinned. “Neither do we, to be honest. Mostly we look at cards, throw chips into a pile, and insult each other in ten different languages.”
Poker sounded like fun. She needed friends, not only to fill her time but to create a richer, fuller life. Connecting with her coworkers would be a good place to start.
Turning back into her booth, she sat, picked up her cell from her desk, and hit the green button to FaceTime Paddy. Her grandmother answered almost immediately, holding a tumbler in her hand.
Paddy, her white hair immaculately coiffured, and wearing a white open-neck shirt and heavy silver necklace, lifted her drink in greeting. “Darling girl, it’s good to see you.”
She looked happy and hearty, full of the joy of life, but Rheo was about to ruin her afternoon. Oh, well...
“Why are you looking, as my Texan grandfather used to say, like you hanged the wrong horse thief?”
Courage, Whitlock. Find it and speak.
“I screwed up at work, I had to take a leave of absence, I went to Gilmartin, and lived in the Pink House without your permission for six months.” Rheo machine-gunned her words, thinking they’d sound better if she said them fast.
Paddy’s expression hardened, and her blue eyes turned frosty. “I saw the viral video, I know you’ve been away from work, and I sure as hell knew you were living in the Pink House. I’ve been many things in my life, my girl, but I am not stupid.”
Rheo stared at the screen, trying to take everything in. She understood the individual words, but they didn’t make sense. Paddy knew? Everything? Already?
Her grandmother drained her drink and looked around for a waiter. Rheo’s eyes widened when she saw a Chris Hemsworth doppelganger, wearing only a pair of swim trunks. Tanned skin and impressive shoulders and biceps. Paddy asked him for another gin and tonic and turned the screen so Rheo could admire his washboard stomach.
“Meet my granddaughter, Harry,” Paddy said. “Rheo, this is Harry.”
Harry tipped the phone so Rheo wasn’t looking at his crotch and grinned, flashing perfectly white, straight teeth. “G’day, Rheo. Your grandmother’s told me a lot about you.”
Rheo waved at Harry, said hello, and when Paddy turned the camera back onto her lined face, Rheo frowned at her. “Who is Harry and why is he fetching you drinks at what looks like a seaside villa?”
Paddy raised an imperious eyebrow. “Harry is my new friend Stuart’s grandson. He’s been working on yachts in the Mediterranean. A nice boy,” she explained.
Who was Stuart? She’d never heard Paddy mention him before. And today she didn’t care. She had bigger things to think about right now. Like...why wasn’t Paddy having a shit fit? Paddy wasn’t reacting as Rheo expected, and she didn’t know how to feel about that.
“What do you mean, you knew about the viral video, me losing my job, and my six months living in your house, Paddy?” she demanded, noticing staff members were filtering into the meeting room.
“I have alerts on my phone to tell me whenever anything happens at the UN, like a terrorist attack or a bomb threat,” Paddy explained. Rheo worked in one of the most secure buildings in the world, but Paddy was worried something would happen to her. “I got numerous alerts about the video and was curious to see what all the fuss was about. I recognized your voice instantly.”
Was there anyone who didn’t know she was the translator on the viral video? Maybe some horse trader in Mongolia?
Paddy sipped from her glass, and despite her relaxed stance, Rheo knew she was borderline pissed. Paddy didn’t like being left out of the loop.
“I made a mistake,” Rheo hurriedly explained. “People do make mistakes, Grandmother.”
“You don’t, Rheo!”
Rheo sucked in a harsh breath. “That’s not fair, Paddy. You’re putting a hell of a lot of pressure on me. You always have.” Rheo pushed her finger and thumb into her eye sockets.
Was she being fair? Probably not. She’d chosen to be like Paddy. “I’m allowed to fail, Paddy!”
Paddy drained her G-and-T and slammed the glass on the side table next to her lounger. She released a loud sigh. “Of course you are. Failure is a part of life.”
Wait! What? “That isn’t something you’ve told me before.”
“Maybe I’m upset because I’m used to you doing everything perfectly. And because I like knowing I don’t have to worry about you. I never had to sort you out or run to your rescue. Nobody in this family realizes how much thinking and worrying I do on their behalf.”
Paddy was being more dramatic than usual. But since she wasn’t yelling or screaming, Rheo would take the win. It was also a good time to go on the offensive.
“While we’re talking about sorting things out, you need to resolve the situation between you and my dad,” she told Paddy.
Paddy sighed, and she dropped her gaze. Was she embarrassed? Rheo didn’t know—she’d never seen Paddy blush before.
“For a few months after our argument, I was convinced he’d been disrespectful by speaking to me about my will. I was furious when he wouldn’t apologize. Ed never takes responsibility for his actions, never admits he’s wrong.”
“He learned that from you,” Rheo cheekily stated. She’d never spoken to Paddy like this, frankly and openly. She finally felt like an adult. Sort of.
Paddy picked up her empty glass and rested it against her cheek. For the first time, she looked old and a little frail. “I was sick when your father phoned me. I had the flu and I wasn’t myself. Between the meds I was taking, the lack of sleep from coughing, and my high temperatures, I got our conversation wrong.”
Wow. “Why didn’t you tell him that?”
“I’ve called myself an idiot, and I know I’m too proud,” Paddy reluctantly admitted. “I couldn’t find a way to say sorry.”
“You pick up the phone, admit you got it wrong, and say sorry,” Rheo told her, not bothering to hide her frustration. Because there had been so much hurt, too much arrogance, and too little understanding— and no communication! —her voice rose. “This isn’t rocket science, Paddy!”
Then she recalled where she was. She checked that the door was closed and her microphone was switched off. See? She could learn from her mistakes. “You admit what you’ve done and ask for forgiveness.”
“And is that so easy to do, Rheo? Obviously not, because it’s taken you six months to tell me you’ve been living rent-free in the Pink House.”
Her words were an excellent counterargument. Rheo didn’t have a leg to stand on, so she told Paddy she’d pay her whatever rent she thought was fair. It would bite into her savings, but it was the right thing to do. She was an adult, and she paid her way.
Paddy waved her words away. “Pride is a hell of a thing, my dear, and it always, always comes before a fall. You failed and so did I,” Paddy quietly stated. “We learn from it and go on. I could make you pay rent for living in my house without my permission—”
“How did you find out, by the way?” Rheo interrupted her.
“Darling, I ruled the town for years,” Paddy responded with her confident drawl. “Nobody sneezes without me knowing about it. I received emails and text messages ten minutes after you arrived.”
Right. She should’ve known she wouldn’t get away with it, even if the town had changed.
“I thought about confronting you, but after getting it wrong with your father, I didn’t want to be estranged from another, and my most beloved, family member. I kept hoping you’d tell me yourself.”
Rheo closed her eyes, her anger fading away. “I felt like such a failure, not sure what I was going to do, or even if I’d be able to return to work. I was a leaf caught in a tornado.”
Paddy’s self-deprecating smile was full of wisdom. “Maybe the lesson we both have to learn is that we are allowed to get things wrong and that failure is a part of life and a way for us to grow.”
For all Rheo’s life, Paddy had been so confident. She’d never once seen her second-guess herself. This was another version of her grandmother, and Rheo quite liked her.
“Stuart, the wise old man that he is, says we don’t grow from success.”
Rheo still didn’t know who Stuart was, where Paddy had met him, and what role he was playing in her life, and she burned with curiosity. Lover? Friend? Tour guide?
But before she could ask, Paddy spoke again. “You made some mistakes, but it sounds like you’ve managed to come out the other side without my help and without me telling you what to do. I’m glad, Rheo, because it’s important for you to trust yourself and trust your judgment. I think you’ve relied too heavily on mine up to now.”
She had. And Rheo understood Paddy’s subtext: her grandmother was an old lady, and she wasn’t going to be around forever. It was time for Rheo to grow up and stand on her own two feet. She could do that. While she might still be a little wobbly, at least she was upright.
Forza e coraggio che la vita è un passaggio . She needed strength and courage, because life was a passage she had to navigate.
“You’re stubborn and intolerant and demanding,” Rheo gently told her.
“I can be. So can you.”
It was a fair comment, so Rheo nodded. “Please talk to my dad and apologize, Paddy.”
“I will.”
Paddy never went back on her word, and a hundred tons lifted off Rheo’s shoulders.
“I’ve fallen in love, Paddy,” Rheo told her, thinking she’d tell Paddy everything. Then, after months of distance, they’d both be on the same page. “He’s not into my life, I’m not into his, but I’m into him in the biggest way imaginable.”
“You’re in love with the young man who rented my house? Carrie’s friend?”
“His name is Fletcher. He’s the last person in the world I should have fallen in love with. He’s an adventurer, an explorer, someone who can’t sit still or stay in the same place.”
Paddy wrinkled her nose. “Darling... I wish I could tell you everything will be all right, but I can’t. Sometimes loving someone isn’t enough. Sometimes love doesn’t work out, and more often than not, there are no happy endings, because life isn’t a fairy tale. I think being able to love, being able to connect, and being able to walk away when things are impossible is what’s important. That’s love, that’s truth and that’s strength.”
It might be, but it still hurt, like a million mini meteor strikes. She kept having to pick up her pieces and glue them into place again. Rinse, repeat. Rheo glanced at her watch and eyed the attendees gathered below. She was out of time.
“I have to get back to work, Paddy.”
“You said you were worried about doing your job. Can you do it?”
“Of course I can do my job, Paddy,” she replied.
And, at that moment, she sensed the truth in her soul. Here, behind this desk and microphone, was where she belonged. She believed in herself, and her abilities, and her opinion was the only one that mattered.
Rheo pointed a finger at Paddy. “Call my dad.”
Paddy pulled a face. “I will invite them to visit me when I return to the States.”
No, that wasn’t good enough. “You will call him, preferably via video, and you will apologize. I will stay on your case until you do.”
Paddy cocked her head to the side. “I see the tables have turned.”
They hadn’t flipped entirely, neither of them believed that. She’d always love and respect Paddy, and her grandmother would always be protective of her.
Sin che si vive, s’impara sempre. They lived. They learned.
And today they’d met as adults and signed an unspoken agreement to be accountable. Not only to each other, but also to themselves.
Could anything be more worthwhile?
Hanging off the rock face in the Red River Gorge, Fletch attached his carabiner into a hook in the rock face. He briefly looked down and shrugged. He was only a hundred feet up, on a climb called Bedtime for Bonzo. He wasn’t fazed. This was a training climb, a way to get him fit for longer, higher, and more extreme peaks. His team was easing him in...
Yet, despite being barely off the ground, he couldn’t get enough oxygen into his lungs. The last time he had felt this way was when he was climbing Everest. Comparing this climb to Everest was like putting a bicycle against a Bugatti Veyron.
Why did he feel short of air? Was he getting sick? Was there something wrong with his circulation? Was he sliding back into CFS? Fletch leaned back in his harness and bumped the ball of his hand against his temple. He was fine, just not as fit as he usually was, out of condition.
Pull your head out of your ass and concentrate, Wright.
Fletch pushed his fingers into a crack, looked for a foothold, and didn’t find one. He scanned the rock, noticed a ledge, and thought that if he could lunge for it, he could scrabble a few yards up the rock face. As he reached for the ledge, an image of Rheo’s bemused face flashed behind his eyes, and he heard her asking him why the hell he was doing this.
He didn’t put enough energy behind his effort and missed the ledge, his fingertips scraping along a sharp ridge. He fell fast, waited for the rope to bite, and cursed when his shoulder plowed into the hard rock. He jerked his head back just in time to avoid it bouncing off the rock too.
Shit! Fuck! That hurt. He panted softly, adrenaline and pain coursing through him.
His radio squawked. “You okay, Fletch?”
Pulling out his radio from the pouch behind his ass, he assured Jason, his belayer and rope master, he was fine. Actually, his shoulder hurt like a bitch, but there was nothing he could do about it right now.
“That was an easy lunge,” Jason told him, sounding puzzled. “You should be able to do it in your sleep. What’s wrong with you?”
So much, Fletch silently told him.
“I need to take a break,” he curtly told Jason. “Give me ten.”
Fletch placed his radio back into its pouch, placed his feet against the rock and sat in the harness. He looked at his bleeding fingertips and wiped them on his climbing pants. He tipped his head back and watched the clouds float across the Kentucky sky. He’d just come off a two-month break and should be energized and pumped. His enthusiasm levels should be at an all-time high. But instead of feeling excited, all he felt was flat and hollow, emotionally washed out.
Climbing, exploring, and being outside were what he most enjoyed, what he wanted to do, and where he wanted to be. But it didn’t mean as much as it did before he met Rheo. God, he missed her. He missed talking to her, hearing her laugh, his skin buzzing with their sizzling chemistry. Sure, he missed the sex, but he missed the person he was when he was with her. Calm, settled, loved.
She loved him, he didn’t doubt it. And he loved her in ways he’d never loved anyone before.
It had taken weeks for him to accept that the strange emotions coursing through his system meant he was in love. He hadn’t thought he’d ever experience it. Then he felt pissed he’d fallen in love with a woman who couldn’t and wouldn’t share this life that was as necessary to him as breathing.
But was it? He wasn’t having any fun on this trip. Would he feel the same way when he started his next expedition? What was the point of putting them through all the many hardships, pushing themselves and their equipment, if he wasn’t excited to be there? If he didn’t get the rush of adrenaline, that hit of satisfaction?
Without Rheo in his life, it meant less than it had before. And that made no sense at all.
But she did understand him, and understood exploring was the biggest part of him. She never asked him to give it up; she just asked to love him while he did it. Fletch rested his forehead against the sun-warmed rock and looked through the gap between his knees to the ground below. Nothing made sense anymore, and being alone wasn’t what he wanted to be.
He wanted Rheo in his life.
He needed to start his day hearing her voice, even if she was half asleep and it took her a while to wake up. He wanted to end his day telling her about the hawk that buzzed him, that the sky reminded him of her blue eyes. He wanted to hear how her day went, how she was doing at work, whether she’d met anyone important, translated anything interesting.
He hadn’t given them a chance, and neither did he give any thought to how they could work.
He was an explorer, someone who always found a way through, someone who always had a plan. And a backup plan. And a backup plan for his backup plan.
But with Rheo, he’d just looked at the map and decided he couldn’t succeed, that she was a land that would forever remain unexplored. The lack of action wasn’t like him—he didn’t give up without trying. He had acted out of character because, while he wasn’t scared of getting dinged and dented by Mother Nature, he was protective of his heart.
He was outwardly brave but not, as Rheo informed him, courageous enough to risk being vulnerable.
He’d somehow, without meaning to, found everything he wanted in a woman in one small town in Washington. Whether he was with her or not, whether they talked or not, Rheo held his heart in her hands, and he was at her mercy.
He suddenly knew he wouldn’t get back to himself, to enjoy what he did and the life he’d chosen, until he took a chance. Until he figured out a way to make them work.
He might fail—some expeditions did—but he had to try.
He wasn’t a goddamn quitter.
“Ready to go, Fletch?” Jason asked, his voice muffled.
Fletch looked down and saw Jason standing on the valley floor below him. He squinted. Despite the distance between them, Jason’s worry shimmered off him.
Fletch slashed at his neck and reached behind him to pull out his radio. “I’m calling it, Jase. I’m done.”
“Did you hurt yourself?” Jason asked, anxious.
Yes, but not in the way Jason meant. He’d also hurt Rheo, and it would take a long time for him to forgive himself for doing it. If ever. Nobody was allowed to hurt her, including him.
“My head isn’t in the right place, so I don’t think I should be trying to scale one of the hardest rock faces in the area. I’m putting myself in danger.”
Jason didn’t reply, but eventually, his radio crackled again. “Fair enough.”
He told Fletch to prepare to rappel, and Jason radioed the team who waited at another point in the valley, asking Seb to check Fletch’s shoulder. He understood Jason’s worry—he never bailed on a challenge. He pushed the envelope and was the person who wanted to go faster, higher, do more, and take bigger risks. His team kept his feet on the ground, not the other way around.
Things were changing.
He was changing.
Even so, he had to consider whether he’d ruined his chances with Rheo by handing her a lot of crap and taking out his fear on her by not treating her well. She would be within her rights to tell him to find Fuck Mountain, climb it, and throw himself off when he reached the summit. As he well knew, choices had consequences, and his decision to run instead of planting his feet and sticking around, might come back to annihilate him.
What would he do then?
One step at a time, Wright. Read the map, plan your route. Take it from there.
When Rheo left Gilmartin for Brooklyn she understood, and accepted, that she would have to make modifications to her very stable, very predictable life. It was safe having a well-oiled life, but it was also damn boring. And keeping busy was one way to get out of her head and stop her thoughts about Fletch—was he okay? Where was he? Had he found another woman to sleep with?
She video-called Abi every day, and she’d joined her colleagues’ poker night and enjoyed an evening filled with laughter and losing pretend money. She’d played exceptionally badly and drank too much wine. Because she was a horrendous cook, she’d signed up for cooking classes. And a night class to learn Mandarin was an option. She needed to meet more people, fill her hours after work, so she could stop obsessing over her explorer...
Nothing so far had worked, but she’d keep trying. Hopefully, sometime soon, she’d stop crying herself to sleep.
à coeur vaillant rien d’impossible. With enough courage, she could do anything. She was holding on to the thought with everything she had.
Tonight was the first of her cooking classes. The school was a few blocks away, and Rheo would walk aroundProspect Park to get there. She was never going to be a gym bunny, but walking, just getting her blood pumping, made her feel a little closer to Fletch. She would never do a twenty-five-mile hike, or even a three-mile run again, but she didn’t need to be a slug.
Rheo tied her shoelaces, put her phone into the back pocket of her jeans, and tucked a twenty-dollar bill into her front pocket, along with the key to her apartment. She jogged down the steps to the lobby and walked out into the late-summer air. Autumn was on its way; the air had turned crisp. Rheo wondered if the leaves were turning in Gilmartin. It was a bit early, but it would happen soon. She missed that little town—something she never thought she’d do.
Rheo hit the sidewalk and waved to Mrs. Bukowski standing at the window of her ground-floor apartment, leaning on her walking sticks. Maybe if it wasn’t too late when she got home, she would pop in to see her...
Ooof! Rheo bounced off a hard chest and stumbled backward. A strong hand gripped her arm, and she instantly recognized Fletch’s touch. Her eyes slammed into his, and she placed a hand on her heart, scared it would jump out of her chest.
Fletch was here . In her city. A place he hated.
“Hello.”
His voice sounded deeper, his burr more pronounced. The shock of his arrival closed her throat, and Rheo couldn’t get any words out of her mouth. She placed her hand on his chest, needing an anchor.
Fletch was the best there was.
He was here. What the hell ?
Fletch bent his knees so his eyes—his fabulous eyes she’d missed so much and loved even more—were level with hers.
“Breathe, Rhee.”
How could she breathe when he’d flipped her world upside down and inside out? How could he expect that? Rheo grabbed his shirt and twisted her fist to keep him in place. She didn’t want him to disappear again.
“Fletch?” she murmured. Then, because she couldn’t help it and was so damn tired of missing him, she burst into tears.
Fletch, because he was Fletch, simply pulled her in, gathered her close, and let her cry.
Rheo registered his lips in her hair, his arms around her, and despite everything that had happened, she knew she was where she belonged. Secure, loved. Cherished.
After a few minutes, Fletch stepped back and, using both his thumbs, wiped away her tears. He dropped a soft kiss on her mouth and pulled back to look at her, his eyes soft. “Okay?”
“Now you’re here, yes,” she told him. “But why are you here, Fletch?”
Fletch walked around her small apartment, looking at the black-and-white photographs hanging on her colorful walls. He picked up her hand-blown glass bowl, then the wooden statue of a couple kissing.
How strange, he seemed nervous. She’d never seen him so antsy before.
He walked over to the window, looked out onto her busy street, and turned to face her, his hands gripping the windowsill behind him with white fingers. Definitely uneasy. Why?
“Can I make you some coffee?” she asked, a little anxious herself. But then, anyone would be when the love of their life abruptly walked back in without any warning.
“Coffee is the last thing on my mind,” Fletch told her, and wiped his hands on his thighs. Fletch was definitely, and uncharacteristically, nervous.
She looked down at her hand, surprised to see she wasn’t shaking. It was enough that he was here. But why was he here?
Rheo sat on the edge of her cream-colored couch and gestured for Fletch to sit opposite her, on her scarlet-and-cream-striped chair. He declined, and she watched him pace the small area in front of the window. Fletch found it difficult to stay still at the best of times, he would have to keep moving to talk. Pity her sitting room was so small...
It was perfect for one person, but when you added a tall muscled man, the space seemed to contract.
“I’m sorry,” Fletch said, sounding terse and abrupt. Rheo didn’t take offense, she understood his levels of discomfort, and who liked apologizing?
“What are you sorry for, Fletch?”
“For the way I handled the situation in Gilmartin. For the way I handled you.”
Rheo thought about protesting. She wasn’t a woman who could be handled. But decided there were more important issues at stake than semantics.
“Okay,” she replied, waiting for him to explain. When he didn’t, she leaned forward and spread her hands. “I’m not sure a quick ‘I’m sorry’ was worth flying in from wherever you came from...”
“Kentucky.” Fletch raked his hand through his hair and she noticed his trembling fingers. It was the strangest thing—the more nervous he appeared, the calmer she became.
“Talk to me, Fletch,” she encouraged, fighting the urge to go to him and put him out of his misery. But there was a future to be fought for. If she went to him now, his words might go unsaid.
“I don’t know how we can make it work,” he stated, his voice low, but full of passion, “but I want to make it work. I need to make us work.”
And there it was, the words she so desperately wanted to hear.
“But I don’t know if it can, how it can, without one of us making massive compromises that’ll change the essence of who we are together. And if we change the essence of who we are, then we’ll change what we love about each other. And then we won’t love each other the same way we do now and, God, I don’t fucking know what to do . I always know what to do.”
“Fletch?” When his eyes met hers, Rheo told him to breathe. “And another, in and out. Stop panicking.”
Fletch stared at her, offended. “I never panic, you can ask my crew. I’m the calmest, most level-headed bloke they know.”
Sure, except when he was talking about love and their future, and how they could be together.
“Fletch, come and sit,” she told him.
When he reluctantly sat on the chair, Rheo moved to perch on her wooden coffee table, her knees between his. She placed her hands on his thighs, trying not to smile when his grip on the arms of the chair tightened.
“What do you think will happen if you tell me you love me?” she asked. “Do you expect me to demand a ring? A house? A nine-to-five life?”
Panic flared in his eyes. Bingo. So, marriage and commitment didn’t scare him, but giving up his career did. She didn’t blame him; she didn’t want to give hers up either.
“I’d never ask you to stop exploring or stay at home for me, Fletch.”
It would be like trying to domesticate a wolf, and they’d both be miserable.
“But how can we be together if we’re always so far apart?” Fletch asked her. “It’s no basis to build a life on, Rheo.”
She tipped her head to the side. “Do you love me, Fletch?”
If he loved her as much as she loved him, then anything was possible.
Emotion rippled through him. “I do. So damn much. I’ve never loved anyone as much as I do you.”
Her heart fluttered in her chest and peace ran through her. She was home, at the place she always longed to be.
“I love you too. And we can figure this out, together.”
Hope skittered across his face, and the grip on his arms of the chair loosened. “How?” he demanded.
“I’m not sure yet, Fletch. It’s something we need to talk about, discuss, probably argue about.” She saw he needed more and shrugged. “Maybe you can shorten your expeditions, or maybe you can accept that offer to present the documentaries of those Lazarus animals, the ones back from extinction? Or maybe you can hack through a thinner jungle or cross a smaller desert.” His mouth quirked as hope and humor slipped into his eyes. “Whatever you do, we can be together when you aren’t exploring.”
“Okay, I can do that. The Lazarus documentaries, that is.” He grinned. “I’m hot shit, but I’m not sure I can change the jungles or make the deserts smaller.”
She made a show of rolling her eyes before laughing. Then another thought occurred, and she grimaced. “Is there any way you could move your home base to the East Coast so I could keep working at the UN?”
He stroked her arm, from her shoulder to her wrist. “Most of the planning could be done via video conferencing,” he assured her.
“And your production company?”
“The same,” he replied. “Being based here wouldn’t be a problem.”
Rheo knew something was worrying him. She couldn’t dive into happiness and excitement until they settled the big issues between them.
“What’s still bothering you, Fletch?”
He winced. “I don’t think I can live in Brooklyn, Rhee,” he admitted. “I’m happy to move closer to you, but I can’t do a city.”
Fair enough. Rheo thought for a minute. He’d made some pretty big compromises so far. It was her turn to go all in.
“If we were wealthy, I’d suggest we buy a second home, somewhere close enough for me to commute when you are home, but rural enough for you to breathe freely. I could stay here in this apartment when you were away.”
Fletch’s eyes lightened. “Maybe we don’t need a second home. Maybe we only need to buy some land,” he told her.
Rheo loved hearing his “we’s” and rejoiced at him treating them as a team.
“How so?”
“Despite you raising your pretty little nose at my having a tiny house, it is transportable, and it isn’t as tiny as you think. It’s probably as big as this apartment. And we could add to it, or build another house, when we have cash, making it bigger and more permanent.”
She’d totally forgotten he owned a house, tiny or otherwise. And, frankly, at this point, she’d move into a shed if it meant being with him. Crucially, what they now had were options. Her mind started working overtime.
“We need to find a place, or town, where you feel comfortable, somewhere you are happy to be when you’re home,” Rheo said, making mental checklists.
“I’m happy wherever you are.”
So sweet, but they had a million things to do. Plans to make. She needed a new spreadsheet... “We need to look at our schedules, check real estate listings, we need to—”
Fletch leaned forward and captured her face in his hands. “The only thing I need is for you to tell me you love me. And that we’re heading for bed.”
Rheo, her lists forgotten, smiled at him, feeling happy and soft. Safe and secure. And horny.
“I love you, Fletcher. Please take me to bed.”
Fletch stood, bent his knees, scooped her, and held her against his chest. When their eyes connected, Rheo swallowed at the depth of emotion in his eyes.
“You are, and always will be, my base camp, Rhee.”
“And loving you is all the adventure I need, Fletch.”