Chapter 3
3
RUBY
I’m lazing in bed the next morning after tossing and turning most of the night. I want desperately to say something pointed and memorable to Tod about his unceremonious brush off, but after considering about a hundred different ideas, I can’t choose the best one. I jot them into my phone to run by Matthew, the undisputed king of snark.
Error 404: Feelings not found. Also, I think you meant to leave that note on your computer monitor, not on my door.
Just read your note. Good news! I've upgraded to a newer model with better compatibility and enhanced features. Thanks for the memories, beta version.
Received your breakup post-it. Please note, your trial relationship has expired, and we regret to inform you that we will not be renewing. For any further inquiries, please consult your nearest dating manual.
I’m feeling pretty good about these. I have a few more minutes before I have to hop in the shower, so send my snappy comebacks for Matthew’s immediate consideration. As I pat myself on the back for inventiveness, a text notification comes in from an unknown number.
Huh. It’s from the retreat center. The one in Costa Rica, where the librarian retreat is being held. And it’s confirming my reservation.
What the hell?
I call the number listed in the text message, hoping to God nothing got charged to my credit card, which is almost maxed-out, thanks to my blue clogs. The nice man on the phone seems eager to help even though my Spanish is non-existent, and his English is just so-so. After a couple starts and stops, and some giggles, I’m able to understand that someone called and booked a reservation for me.
Oh holy hell. Did Dad spring for this? I won’t accept it. I can’t. He’s retired for cripes’ sake, living on a fixed income.
Then the man on the phone says Tyler. Tyler Brooks .
Well, that makes sense. But still.
I thank the man for his help, wanting to cancel but—knowing I should cancel—but I’m unable to pull the trigger. Everything tells me to turn down this gift, or loan, or charity, or whatever the hell it is. But a teeny little part of me starts taking a mental inventory of my bathing suits and other beach clothes, and I remember that hot little green bikini in the back of my dresser that still has its Macy’s tags on it.
Tyler u goof. What have you done?**
Rubes. Just say t-you and shut up
T-you and shut up
Ur such a dork
Wow. Just wow. Looks like I’m going to Costa Rica.
My phone rings.
“Ty.”
“Rubes.”
“You didn’t have to do this, you idiot,” I say.
“I know that, you idiot,” he answers. “Oh, and you’re flying first class, you’ll be getting vacation pay, and I’ve even already called your boss to get you the week off. Of course I had to give him a bunch of tickets to some Aftershocks games, but it’s all good.”
“You did wha—? How?—?”
He laughs. “I have Matthew in my phone from the time you brought him to the game. He gave me your boss’s info, so I texted her. You’re good to go.”
“Oh my God…”
“Don’t worry about a thing, Rubes. Big brother has taken care of everything.”
I’m speechless. Tyler can be a pain in the ass. No, correction, he is a pain in the ass. But he’s also the sweetest guy I’ve ever known.
“I love you, Tyler. Thank you.”
“I love you too, Rubes. Just tell me, though. Are you moping over that Tod dude? Did you sleep with him?”
My cheeks flame as my mouth drops open. I reply fast. It’s way too early for this kind of interrogation, especially from my big brother.
“Why do you need to know that?”
He laughs. “So I know how bad to beat him up.”
I shake my head even as a laugh squeaks out of my throat.
If Tod knew there’d be three men talking about hurting him, he’d for sure never have broken up with me the way he did.
He’d never have dated me in the first place, for that matter.