Chapter 35
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CALEB
I pull up the video of the incident. I haven't watched it since Ruby and I did on our trip to the mountains. That feels like a million years ago. We've come through the other side, and back when I asked her to come with me, I didn't believe we'd actually be able to do it. Yet here we are.
Part of me thinks I need to watch it again, but when it starts, I don't feel the tightening of my chest or the anger. I feel gratitude that I made it out. For a long time, I've waited for this feeling, and I'm thankful I finally got here.
Turning my phone off, I get out of my SUV and head toward the entrance of the building I used to live in.
Pushing open the door to The Café, I look around for Ruby, Levi, and Molly. I'm working a mid-shift, so even though I can't be home for dinner tonight, we can still meet and spend time as a family. Ruby smiles as she sees me.
"Hey Red," I greet her, leaning down to drop a kiss on her lips, before I scoot in. "Y'all ordered yet?"
"No," she puts her hand on my thigh. "We just got here."
The Café buzzes with the low hum of chatter and the clinking of silverware, creating an ambiance I've come to associate with peace.
Levi is drawing on the paper placemat, carefully outlining what looks like a dinosaur. Molly giggles, trying to imitate her brother with the pen in her hand.
"How was work?" Ruby asks, her eyes searching mine.
"It's getting better," I reply. "Busy, but good." I pause, considering how different that answer would have been just a few months ago. "Feels right finally."
Ruby's smile widens, and there's that flash of understanding between us. She knows what I mean—how much ground we've covered since the mountains.
The waitress comes by, setting down menus we hardly need. I order my usual, and Ruby follows suit. The kids opt for macaroni and cheese, their tried-and-true favorite.
As we wait, I watch them engage in a world of their own. Levi and Molly's laughter is infectious, bringing a warmth to my chest.
I find myself drifting back to those pivotal days in the mountains. If I hadn’t invited Ruby, if we hadn’t faced the storm head-on, what then? It's a thought that sometimes creeps in, uninvited but persistent. Life was on the verge of collapse, and every argument felt like it carried a finality I couldn't bear.
But this dinner, this simple gathering reminds me why I fought so hard to mend the broken pieces. I look at Ruby, remember our conversations a few weeks ago, the tears and the laughter. Slowly, we began to untangle ourselves from the mess, layer by layer.
The food arrives, interrupting my reverie. Molly immediately digs in, her face lighting up with glee, while Levi meticulously arranges his plate to his liking. Their innocence is a balm, soothing in its simplicity.
Conversation flows easily. We talk about the stupid shit—the week's plans, the kids' adventures at school. It hits home how these ordinary moments are anything but. They're precious, the framework of this life we're rebuilding.
Ruby catches my eye over her iced tea. "It’s nice, isn’t it?" she says softly.
I nod, knowing she feels it too. The calm after the storm, the quiet understanding that underpins every word and every silence. We talk about taking another trip soon, just the two of us, to keep nurturing what we’ve rebuilt.
As dinner winds down, the kids grow restless, eager for dessert. I watch them with a soft smile, their energy filling the room. It's hard to imagine what it would be like if things had gone differently—if Ruby wasn’t here beside me, if laughter and love hadn’t found their way back into our home.
I put my hand over hers, a simple gesture full of unspoken promises—a reminder of the road we've traveled and a commitment to the path ahead.
"Thank you," I murmur, and she raises an eyebrow in question. "For everything," I clarify.
Ruby squeezes my hand in return. Her eyes say what doesn’t need words: We're in this together.
As we gather our things to leave, I feel a profound sense of gratitude. For second chances, for love that endures, for the courage to invite her to the mountains. My heart is full, reminded once more that it’s the choices we make, even the tough ones, that shape the life we lead.
Stepping out into the crisp evening air, hand in hand with Ruby and the kids bouncing ahead, I know this is exactly where I'm meant to be.