Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
Ruby
I pass Niles and Tally having a tense conversation in Tally’s corner on my way back into the library, but I barely register them.
I answer questions for guests on autopilot as I pace the invisible boutique perimeter. As Emma St. Clair’s signing line grows shorter, guests drift to the tables and buy up the offerings, the tables grow bare, and the crowd finally thins.
Driving home afterward, everything stays on autopilot. My brain. My nervous system. Even my internal navigation, because I’m nearly to my parents’ house before I realize I’m driving to the wrong place.
Or maybe the right one.
Joey’s car is in their driveway when I pull up, so I park on the street and cut across the lawn to walk straight through the front door without knocking.
I hear voices and television noise coming from the den, and I find my parents on the sofa and Ava in an armchair with Joey on the floor in front of her, leaning against her legs while she plays with his hair.
They all groan when the Wheel of Fortune contestant on the screen makes a bad letter guess.
“Hey, sweetie,” my mom says. “Ava got us hooked on the Wheel. Come play.”
I head to the sofa and flop down, resting my head in my mom’s lap.
“Uh oh,” Joey says.
My dad mutes the TV. “What’s wrong?”
I wouldn’t even know where to start, and I only shake my head.
“You can’t come in here looking tragic, collapse in a heap, then not tell us anything,” Ava says.
“Have you met my sister?” Joey asks. “You just described her signature move.”
My mom clucks, and Ava gives him a light smack on the head.
What do I say? Niles showed up to flaunt his engagement then accused me of cheating.
I kissed Charlie. Charlie kissed me. We kissed each other.
He took off like I kicked him in the crotch.
We broke and nothing is working to fix it.
Charlie kissed me. I kissed Charlie. We kissed each other.
And a few suspicions I had are fact now, and I have no idea what to do.
I heave a deep sigh. “How did you know you were in love?”
“Me?” Ava asks. “I just never wasn’t.”
Joey reaches up to take one of her hands and kiss it, then keeps it in his.
“Any of you,” I say.
I expect Joey to give me a smart aleck answer, but instead he watches me, a considering look on his face.
My dad says, “From the moment I met your mother, every day with her in it was better than any day without her. I could see it right away. There was nothing to figure out. It just was.” Now it’s his turn to take my mom’s hand and press a kiss to the back of it before settling their joined hands on his lap.
I love hearing it, but . . . “That’s how I feel about Ava. And Madi and Sami.”
“Safe,” my mom says slowly, and I give her my attention.
“I felt safe, like as long as I was with your dad, everything would be okay. But more than that. Like I could show up as any version of myself, and that it was okay. It didn’t feel like he was tolerating the less perfect versions of me.
It was more like he wanted to create space for me to be any version I needed to be.
And he never acted like he expected me to thank him for that. ”
He kisses her hand again. “I will always be grateful that you are who you are.”
Ava gives a faint sniff, and Joey sighs like he’s feeling mighty put upon by listening to my parents be drippy. Big faker. Probably trying to hide his own sniffle.
“But also, I always wanted to make out with him,” my mom adds.
My dad chuckles. “And we did.”
“Did?” Joey repeats. “You mean do.”
I smile. It’s true. They’re still very affectionate. We all learned early never to walk into their room without knocking.
“For me,” Joey says, and I look at him in surprise. I didn’t expect him to answer. “For me, it was the kiss. It’s not when I fell. It’s when I realized I’d already fallen.”
He looks up at Ava, who is smiling down at him. She knows this, but I like watching them remember the moment. “Love you,” he says. She leans down and gives him a soft kiss.
“I did that,” I blurt.
“Got us together?” Joey asks, confused. “We know.”
I sit up and take a deep breath. “Charlie kissed me. And maybe I love him.”
My dad’s eyebrows shoot up, and Joey gives a low whistle. “Okay, Charlie,” he says, which I barely hear over Ava’s squeal.
“Maybe you love him?” my mom prods. “You don’t know?”
I slump. “No. It’s like everything you all said. Every day is better with him in it than if he’s not. I feel safe to be any version of myself I want to be with him.”
“What about this kissing?” my mom asks. This house has heard many, many post-kissing analyses.
“It was . . .” I pause, trying to find the words.
“Respectful?” my dad asks.
“Special?” my mom asks.
“Awkward?” Joey asks.
“Good?” Ava asks.
I point at her.
“Good,” my mom repeats, sounding satisfied.
“If feeling like you got electrified from the inside out and then liquified and then electrified again is good, then yes,” I say as Joey groans. “Good.”
Ava cheers and my mom grins at me. “Yeah, that’s good.”
Even though my dad is shaking his head, he’s smiling. “So why aren’t you sure?”
“Why is this all coming up now?” That’s what’s bothering me. “Why all of a sudden? Why not before?”
“Does it matter?” Ava asks. “I don’t mean that dismissively. But I wonder if the timing matters when it’s a good thing.”
“Good question, babe,” Joey says. He looks at me, waiting for the answer. Despite my grumbling, this is Joey at his best. Present. Reading the moment. And I love that he always does this for me when it matters.
“Charlie thinks it does.”
“Why does Charlie think it matters?” My dad’s forehead furrows. “I figured he’d be doing heel clicks or something.”
“We haven’t talked about the kiss yet because Niles interrupted—”
“Whoa, what?” Ava yelps.
“When we were kissing, Niles interrupted us and accused me of cheating with Charlie while we were together.”
They all look at me.
“Honey,” my mom says, “maybe you better back up and give us the whole story.”
So I do. When I finish, Joey rubs his hands over his face, my dad looks bewildered, Ava is wearing her equation-solving expression, and my mom is shaking her head at me.
“You aren’t usually my hot mess child, but today . . .” But she’s smiling. “What do you think Charlie is going to say when you talk to him about this kiss?”
“That I’m turning it into something it isn’t,” I answer. “That I’m letting it confuse me about my own feelings.”
Ava frowns. “Bold of him to assume he knows how you feel better than you do.”
“If it wasn’t Charlie, I’d agree,” I say. “But there are times when it feels like he knows me better than I know myself.”
“And he thinks you’re confused because . . .” my dad prompts.
“Because he thinks I’m going to talk myself into being with him because that’s what I do,” I say. “Or he thinks I do. I drift into relationships because it’s comfortable for me.”
Joey rubs his chin. “This isn’t that?”
I scratch my neck and look for the right words.
“I’ve spent days thinking about that. After that Pitch-a-Friend date, I wondered.
I know everyone there thought we should be a couple.
I forced myself to pay attention to my brain.
Heart.” I press a hand to my stomach. “And here. This is where most of my clues came from.”
My mom nods, well aware of how my stomach reacts to any intense emotion. “What do they say?”
I touch my head. “I know I love him. Always have.” I move my hand to my heart. “It seems like this kind y’all are talking about.” I press both hands to my stomach. “But this is a mess. Just why now, why now, why now, nonstop.”
“Want my theory?” my mom asks.
“As long as it’s something I want to hear.”
She smiles. “You’ve always felt safe with Charlie. To be yourself, silly, flawed, angry, passionate about your causes. Everything has changed. You know how he feels. You know you have chemistry. Do you still feel safe?”
I draw my knees up to my chest to rest my chin on them. “I worry a lot about saying the wrong thing. I have to think carefully about everything coming out of my mouth. It’s stressful, and it didn’t used to be.”
“Do you worry because you think he’ll think less of you if you say the wrong thing?” my dad asks.
“No. That I’ll hurt him.”
Mom makes a soft humming sound. “But you can still be fully you?”
I nod.
“Then you have your answer.” She reaches over to brush my hair from my eyes and smile into them. “How does that make you feel?”
I love Charlie. I’m in love with Charlie?
My hands relax on my stomach as it settles.
I’m in love with Charlie.
How does it feel?
Right. It feels right. And fizzy. No, not that. Those bubbles pop and go away. But letting the truth exist without a limit, without doubts . . .
It’s like every Christmas Eve of my life rolled into one, if they all had Fourth of July fireworks too.
A smile curves my lips. I want to let the words explode from my mouth. I love Charlie. But he should be the first to hear them.
Joey clears his throat. “I know that face. That’s what my face looked like when I figured out I love Ava.”
“How do you know what your face looked like?” Ava says. “Were you standing in front of a mirror?”
“Probably,” my dad says, and everyone laughs, including Joey.
“Your face looks like mine felt,” Joey amends. “And as a Ramos by birth and not marriage, you need to tell Charlie. Smart people sense that we are too powerful to risk let’s-see-how-it-goes. They need to know we’re all in or they’re going to stay all out.”
Ava and my mom exchange looks. My mom sighs. Ava admits, “Sadly, it’s true. Ramoses are powerful like that.”
“As a current Ramos hostage,” my mom says, “I can tell you that Charlie will only feel safe with you now if he knows how you feel. All of it. Otherwise, he’s going to guard part of himself.”
“Did you say hostage?” my dad growls.
My mom hops off the sofa and runs for the stairs, calling, “Yes, I did.”
My dad races after her, grinning.
“Gross,” Joey says as we hear their footsteps pounding down the hall toward their room, but it’s resigned.
I pull out my phone. “Time to see a boy about a kiss.”
“Also gross,” Joey says.
Ava threads her fingers through his hair, then makes a fist and pulls his head back so he’s staring up at her. “Is it? Maybe you need more data.”
Joey climbs to his feet and holds his hand out to her. “I definitely do. See you, Ruby.”
And then he’s hauling a smiling Ava toward the door, leaving me in silence.
So about that kiss . . .
No
No what
No
Let’s talk about it
No
But yes
It’s fine
I snort. If that kiss rocked him half as much as it did me, he’s not “fine.” Pick destroyed or mindblown, but neither of us is “fine.”
I call him on FaceTime, but he doesn’t answer.
I’m done with this avoidance after every time we see each other. I’m not going to hurt Charlie. There’s nothing to protect him from.
I get off the sofa, smiling. We are in the same boat. Safe. I’m going to go tell him to his face.
And when that boat starts a-rockin’ . . .