Chapter 51
51
RUBY
The reception is in full swing, the ballroom a swirl of music, laughter, and the occasional tipsy relative attempting to line dance. I'm at my assigned table, the dreaded singles table, nursing a glass of champagne and trying not to stare too obviously at Chuck sitting straight across from me.
He is impossibly handsome in his suit, his hair slightly mussed where it’s falling out of its bun. Our eyes meet for a brief moment, and I have to physically restrain myself from reaching out to touch him.
This semi-secret relationship thing? Harder than I thought.
"So, Ruby," says the guy to my left—I think his name is Brad, or maybe Brett? He's a cousin of Lucy's. "Tyler tells me you're a librarian. That must be... quiet."
I bite back a sigh. If I had a dollar for every time someone assumed being a librarian was boring, I could retire tomorrow. "Oh, you'd be surprised," I say, plastering on a smile. "Just last week, we had a full-on brawl over the last copy of the new Stephen King novel."
Brad (Brett?) laughs, clearly thinking I'm joking. If he only knew.
"Well, I'd love to hear more about it," he says, leaning in closer. "Maybe over drinks later?"
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Chuck tense, his knuckles white around his champagne flute. I shift slightly, putting a bit more distance between me and Brad-or-Brett.
"Thanks, but I think I'll be pretty busy with bridesmaid duties," I say to let him down gently.
I notice a group of women I recognize as Aftershocks wives and girlfriends milling about until they spot Chuck on his own. A few of them start to cluster around him and one, a statuesque blonde, puts her hand on his arm.
Here we go again.
"Chuck, darling," she purrs, loudly enough for me to hear, "have you met my friend Melissa? She's a model. I think you two would hit it off… if you know what I mean."
A hot surge of jealousy floods me, which is ridiculous because I know Chuck isn't interested. But still, watching these women fawn over him, imagining them thinking they have a shot... it sucks.
Chuck, to his credit, looks supremely uncomfortable. "Thanks, Veronica, but I'm not really looking to meet anyone right now."
She pouts dramatically. "Oh, come now. A handsome, successful man like you shouldn't be single. What are you waiting for, the perfect woman to fall into your lap?"
Chuck's eyes find mine across the table, and I see a mischievous glint in them. "Maybe I already have," he says cryptically, and I have to hide my smile behind my champagne glass.
The next hour passes in a blur of small talk, dodging more singles table matchmaking attempts, and stolen glances with Chuck. It's torture being this close to him and not being able to lean into him, to kiss him senseless like I want to.
Finally, it's time for the speeches. Tyler's best friends, Rake and Jonas, take the stage, matching grins on their faces. They've been thick as thieves for years, and I brace myself for what's sure to be a mix of heartfelt sentiment and embarrassing stories.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Rake begins, his voice slightly slurred, "we're here to talk about love."
Oh God. Cheese city.
"More specifically," Jonas chimes in, "we're here to talk about Tyler and Lucy's love. A love so real it makes the rest of us look like emotionally stunted toddlers."
The crowd laughs, and I find myself relaxing a bit. Maybe this won't be so bad after all.
Rake continues, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "You know, when Tyler first told us about Lucy, we thought he was losing it. Our boy Ty, settling down? No way."
"But then we saw them together," Jonas says, "and we got it. Because what they have? It's the real deal."
"Tyler and Lucy," Rake says, raising his glass, "you found your person. The one whose mere presence fixes everything that's wrong inside you without ever making you feel broken."
I feel my breath catch in my throat. Without meaning to, my gaze finds Chuck's across the table. He's looking at me with such intensity it’s physical.
Jonas picks up the thread. "You found the one you can be naked and vulnerable with and never feel awkward. The one who helps draw you out of your shell, who wants to share in all of life's experiences because life is better together than apart."
Chuck and I are locked in our own private world now, the rest of the room fading away. Every word of this speech feels like it's meant for us, describing exactly what we've found in each other.
"And vows," Rake continues, "like an agreement, are sacred. They should never be broken."
For a moment, I feel a pang of guilt. Here we are, keeping our relationship on the down-low at Tyler and Lucy's wedding. But then Jonas adds…
"But maybe they can be renegotiated, like a contract, to ensure everyone's needs are met."
Chuck's lips quirk up in a small smile, and I feel my own lips mirroring his. It's like Jonas is giving us permission, telling us it's okay to do this our way.
"May you always meet each other's needs," Rake says, his voice thick with emotion, "as you grow old and even happier together."
"To Tyler and Lucy!" Jonas concludes, raising his glass high.
The room erupts in cheers and applause, but I barely hear it. I'm lost in Chuck's eyes, in the promise I see there. In this moment, I want nothing more than to stand up, walk around this table, and kiss him senseless, everyone else be damned.
But I can't. Not yet. So instead, I raise my glass along with the rest of the room, my eyes never leaving Chuck's. "To Tyler and Lucy," I mouth silently, but we both know what I really mean.
To us.
As the music starts up again and people begin to filter onto the dance floor, I excuse myself from the table. I need a moment, just a brief respite from the intensity of… it all.
I find a quiet corner near the bar, lean against the wall, and take deep breaths. I'm so lost in my thoughts I don't notice someone approaching until I feel a warm hand on the small of my back.
I know it's Chuck before I even turn around. I'd know his touch anywhere.
"Hey, you okay?"
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. Being this close to him, his warmth, his scent... it's intoxicating.
"That speech," Chuck murmurs, his thumb tracing small circles on my back. "It was..."
"I know," I whisper. "Chuck, I?—"
"There you are!"
We spring apart as Lucy appears, her face flushed with happiness and too much champagne. "Ruby, I've been looking everywhere for you! It's time for the bouquet toss."
I force a smile, trying to ignore the lingering warmth of Chuck's hand on my back. "Of course! I'll be right there."
Lucy beams, then turns to Chuck. "And you, mister, better get out there for the garter toss. Who knows, maybe you'll be next!"
If only she knew.
As Lucy drags me away, I chance one last look at Chuck. He's watching me go, his eyes dark with longing. I feel an answering pull in my own chest, a physical ache to be leaving him.
Soon. Soon we can be open.
The bouquet toss is a blur of giggles and flailing arms. I hang back, not particularly interested in fighting for a bunch of flowers. Besides, I'm pretty sure I've already found my happily ever after, even if we're keeping it under wraps for the moment.
To my surprise and mild horror, the bouquet ends up in my hands anyway, falling neatly into my arms as if guided there by some mischievous fairy godmother. The crowd cheers, and I feel my face heat up as all eyes turn to me.
"Well, well," Tyler says, grinning as he prepares to toss the garter. "Looks like little sis might be next down the aisle. Better make this a good throw, boys!"
I watch, half-amused and half-terrified, as the single men gather. Chuck is among them, looking decidedly uncomfortable. Our eyes meet across the room, and I see a flicker of determination cross his face.
Tyler launches the garter, and it's like watching a hockey game in slow motion. Chuck moves with the grace and precision I've seen on the ice, easily outmaneuvering the other guys to snatch the garter out of the air.
The crowd goes wild, and I feel my heart skip a beat. Chuck holds the garter aloft, a triumphant grin on his face, but his eyes are locked on mine. In that moment, it's like everyone else disappears. It's just us, Chuck and Ruby, and the promise of a future together.
"Alright, alright!" the DJ's voice breaks through the cheers. "Let's have our lucky winners out on the dance floor!"
Suddenly, I'm being pushed forward, and Chuck is making his way toward me. We meet in the center of the dance floor, surrounded by a sea of grinning faces.
"Fancy meeting you here," Chuck laughs as he takes me in his arms.
I laugh, relaxing into his embrace. "Didn't take you for the superstitious type, Newcomb."
He grins, pulling me closer as we begin to sway to the music. "What can I say? Some traditions are worth upholding."
As we dance, I'm acutely aware of every point of contact between us. His hand on my waist, my fingers resting on his shoulder, our clasped hands.
I could stay here forever.
"You know," Chuck says, his lips close to my ear, "I'm starting to think keeping this a secret might be overrated."
I pull back slightly to look at him, seeing my own longing reflected in his eyes. "Yeah?"
He nods, his gaze intense. "Yeah. I'm tired of pretending I'm not completely, head-over-heels in love with you, Ruby Brooks."
My breath catches in my throat. "Chuck..."
"I know, I know," he says quickly. "It's not the right time. But soon, okay? I don't think I can take much more of watching other guys hit on you without being able to say anything."
I smile, squeezing his hand. "Soon," I agree. "And for the record? Watching those women fawn over you wasn't exactly a picnic for me either."
He chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Jealous, Brooks?"
"You wish," I scoff, but we both know it's a lie.
As the song ends, we reluctantly part. But before we can step away, Tyler's voice rings out.
"Alright, you two! Time for the garter ceremony!"
Oh god. I'd forgotten about this part.
Chuck's eyes widen, a mix of panic and amusement crossing his face. "Uh, maybe we should skip this part?"
But the crowd is already chanting, egging us on. I see Tyler and Lucy watching us, identical grins on their faces. I suspect they know they’re witnessing the beginning of something, not just a silly wedding tradition. But they keep it to themselves.
"Well," I say, trying to keep my voice steady, "I guess tradition is tradition, right?"
Chuck nods, a determined glint in his eye. "Right. Just... try not to enjoy this too much, okay, Brooks?"
I laugh, the tension breaking. "I'll do my best."
As Chuck kneels before me, garter in hand, I can't help but think how different this moment is from what everyone else is seeing. To them, it's just a funny wedding tradition, two singles thrown together by chance. But for us, it's way more.
It's a promise. A beginning. A glimpse of a future we both want but aren't ready to publicly claim.
Chuck's hands are warm on my leg as he slides the garter up, his touch sending shivers through me. Our eyes meet, and I see everything I'm feeling reflected back at me—love, desire, anticipation.
Soon, I think. Soon we won't have to hide.
But for now, we'll play our parts. We'll laugh and blush and play it off as a joke. And later, when we're alone, we'll make up for all the touches we couldn't share, all the kisses we had to hold back.
As he stands, his hand lingering on mine for just a moment too long, I know one thing for sure—this is just the beginning of our story. I want the world to see how it unfolds.