Chapter 31 Ruby
RUBY
I’ve been staring at the same vase of roses for God knows how long, arranging and rearranging them like they hold the secrets of the universe. My hands fumble with the stems, and I prick my finger on a thorn. The small pain yanks me back to reality—my backyard, Sunday afternoon, lunch preparations.
Sarah, Claire’s niece, is coming, and she’s bringing Erik, her new boyfriend.
I’d completely forgotten until the reminder popped up on my phone this morning.
Since then, I’ve been in a frenzy—stripping the guest bed and remaking it with fresh linens, dusting off surfaces, and throwing windows open to air out rooms. If I’d remembered sooner, I would have asked my cleaner to do it, but my mind’s been elsewhere and she only comes in three times a week.
I rushed to the grocery store in yoga pants and sweatshirt, hair piled in a messy bun, frantically pushing a cart down aisles while trying to remember what normal people serve for lunch.
Claire was always the one who organized these gatherings.
She’d plan menus weeks in advance, create elaborate centerpieces, and charm everyone with her effortless hostess energy.
I just tagged along, happy to be the sous-chef, the wine pourer.
Claire could transform a simple lunch into an event people talked about for months.
She remembered everyone’s dietary restrictions, anniversaries, favorite wines.
I never had to worry about any of it—she handled the details while I handled the bills.
Now it’s all on me, and I feel like I’m fumbling through a script written in a language I barely understand.
I’ve bought premade lasagna that I transferred to my own baking dish, made a salad I saw on Instagram, and found a tiramisu at the deli on my way back that looks homemade enough to pass inspection.
It’s not that Sarah would judge me for not cooking—she knows I’m hopeless in the kitchen—but I want to appear functional, put together.
Like someone who didn’t spend last night blindfolded and handcuffed in her neighbor’s secret club.
Am I functioning? I can barely focus on anything today and desperately need some normalcy in my life. Part of me is grateful for Sarah and Erik’s visit.
I put the store-bought lasagna in the oven. Perfect. It looks like it’s something I’ve slaved over all morning.
Last night keeps flooding back in flashes—not visual memories, since I was blindfolded for most of it, but sensations.
The restraints around my wrists. The sting of the crop against my skin.
Athena’s mouth on me. My body responds immediately to the memory, and I grip the kitchen counter to steady myself.
“Focus, Ruby,” I mutter, carrying the bowl of salad out to the patio table.
The pool sparkles in the midday sun, the water so blue and inviting it almost hurts to look at.
I check my phone again. No messages from Athena. I’m not sure what I expected—a “good morning” text? I want to talk to her, but Sarah and Erik will be here any minute, and then there’s no chance of that happening.
The patio table still needs setting. I fetch placemats, napkins, silverware—all the trappings of a normal Sunday lunch.
My hands shake slightly as I place each fork, each knife.
I haven’t slept. How could I? Every time I closed my eyes, I felt Athena all over me.
My body still tingles in places, and there are marks—beautiful, secret marks—hidden beneath my linen dress.
The doorbell rings just as I’m putting out water glasses, and my heart leaps into my throat. I smooth down my dress, take a deep breath, and buzz them through.
Sarah stands on my doorstep, so much like Claire that for a split second, I can’t breathe.
The same blonde hair, though Sarah wears hers shorter.
The same smile, though Sarah’s doesn’t have those crinkles at the corners of her eyes.
Beside her stands a tall man with kind eyes and a nervous smile—Erik, I presume.
“Ruby!” Sarah throws her arms around me, and I hold her tight, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo—the same brand Claire used. It’s a punch to the gut, but also strangely comforting.
“It’s so good to see you,” I say, meaning it more than she could possibly know. “Come in, come in. And you must be Erik.”
Erik steps forward, extending his hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, Ms. Walsh.”
“Please, it’s Ruby, and I’m so happy to have you both here,” I assure them as I lead them inside.
“The house looks different,” Sarah comments, running her hand along the back of the sofa. “But also the same.”
“I know what you mean. I’ve made some changes lately.” I don’t mention that most of those changes happened because Athena pushed me to deal with Claire’s things. “Come on, everything’s set up outside. Can I get you both a glass of white wine?”
“Please,” Sarah says, and Erik nods.
I busy myself opening a bottle of Gavi while Sarah and Erik wander out to the patio. Through the kitchen window, I watch them admire the pool, the garden. Erik has his arm around Sarah’s waist, protective and loving. They look happy together.
My mind drifts back to Athena. To the complete surrender I experienced. I’ve never felt anything like it—the intensity of sensation when all I could do was feel. I want to do it again. The thought forms clearly, undeniable in its simplicity.
With three glasses of wine balanced in my hands, I head outside to join them. Sarah is telling Erik about the times she came to stay with us.
“It’s such a gorgeous house,” she says, turning to me as I set down the glasses. “But it’s strange to be here again, without Aunt Claire.” I can tell she’s emotional, even though she hides it well. An undercurrent of sadness hits me, and if Erik wasn’t here, we might have shed a few tears together.
“It’s still strange for me too,” I admit, settling into a chair across from them. “It’s only just now starting to feel like somewhat of a home again, but I don’t think I’ll stay here long term.”
Sarah looks surprised. “Really? But you and Aunt Claire loved this house.”
“Claire loved this house,” I correct her. “I just wanted her to be happy. But there are too many memories here now. Too much space for just me.” I take a sip of wine. “Anyway, that’s a conversation for another time. Tell me how you two met.”
Erik launches into the story—a coffee shop meet-cute that sounds straight out of a romantic comedy.
Sarah interjects occasionally, correcting details or adding context.
I nod and smile in all the right places, but part of me is somewhere else entirely—in a mirrored room with Athena’s voice in my ear, her hands on my body.
Then another memory washes over me. Claire and Sarah laughing at this very table the last time we had lunch together.
I grab my linen napkin and fan myself vigorously.
It’s like I’m going mad. Like I have no control over my jumbled thoughts anymore.
“And we’ve been together ever since.” Sarah’s voice pulls me back.
“How lovely. You look so happy together.” A drop of sweat trickles down between my shoulder blades as I dab my forehead.
“Ruby? Are you okay?” Sarah leans forward. “You seem feverish all of a sudden.”
“Sorry, yes,” I say quickly, forcing visions of Athena from my mind. “Just remembered I need to check on lunch. Give me a second.”
In the kitchen, I press my palms against the cool marble countertop and take a deep breath, then blow out my cheeks. What is wrong with me? I need to be present for this visit, no matter how much last night distracts me or how much the past hurts.
I return with the lasagna and set it down with a smile I hope looks more composed than I feel.
"So, Erik... You have a job interview tomorrow, right? Where was it again?"
"It's at The Paris Casino on the strip. For the role of marketing director. It’s the final round and there are two other candidates.” Erik glances at Sarah.
"Sarah and I have talked about doing long distance if I get it. It's not ideal, but it's a big opportunity for me so we’ve decided we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.” He turns to me.
“And Sarah tells me you’re the top attorney in Vegas, one of the best in the country. ”
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” I say with a chuckle.
“Ruby’s being modest,” Sarah tells him. “She’s a legend in corporate law. Her firm is the gold standard.”
I feel a rush of pride at her words. “Speaking of which, Sarah, I may have an opening at Walsh and Associates if Erik gets the job in Vegas. We could always use talent like yours. I’ve been working too hard and it’s not sustainable.
If I’m going to hire help, I prefer to work with people I can trust implicitly. ”
Sarah’s eyes widen. “Are you serious? That would be… Wow! That would be amazing. I mean, to work with you…”
“Think about it,” I say. “No pressure and no rush.” I reach into my pocket and pull out the small velvet pouch I’ve been carrying around all morning. “Before I forget, this is the ring Claire would have wanted you to have—your grandmother’s sapphire ring.”
Sarah takes the box, opening it. The sapphire catches the sunlight, sending blue reflections dancing across her face. “I remember this ring,” she whispers.
“Claire wore it on special occasions,” I say, my throat tightening unexpectedly. “She loved that ring.”
“It’s beautiful.” Sarah slips it onto her finger. It fits as if it was meant for her all along, and she holds her hand up to the light, admiring it. Claire’s ring has found its new home. It’s another small step in the long journey of letting go.