Chapter Twelve
“I never figured you for someone who would run away, Rosemary,” Luke said.
Her hair was still damp, and she was shoving her makeup kit in her suitcase. Her clothes were rolled and neatly packed, and she flipped the suitcase closed and zipped it up. She wore a white V-neck sweater and blue jeans.
She said nothing as she went to lift her suitcase off his neatly made bed, with its blue and brown quilt. A small desk in the corner and a tall chest of drawers were the only other furniture, and the only thing he’d stuck up on the wall were photos of his team and some places he’d been, including his favorite, an off-the-road village in Yemen that most people would never have heard of.
“I’m not running away,” she said. “I’m saving my dignity. I told you this could never work, and
