Chapter Thirty-Two
LOVERS SPEAK IN CODE.
Will
Ruby is acting weird. And it’s not just the puffy face or the way fingers won’t stop tapping, which are, noticeably, weird. It’s the-
“Thanks for the ride!”
-chirping. And the smiling.
Chirping and smiling after running from the conference room in tears, straight out into the cold, walking the several blocks to Sweet & Salty.
I caught up to her there, giving Sol a grateful nod when our eyes caught through the window.
I’d contemplated going in. Giving her my own coat. I don’t know what stopped me.
Instead, I’d waited just outside, exchanging glances with Sol as they left. Following them down the block and across the street. Standing outside when he took her up to Elodie.
Thanking him when he came back down.
“Give them a few,” he’d said. “Elodie will help her.”
I’d swallowed, sat down on a bench, and waited.
I hadn’t meant to make her cry. I’d just… I’d needed a minute – a lot of minutes, maybe – to regroup. To approach the equation from a different angle.
To figure out how to make her love me as much as I love her.
And so, I sat next to Liam at the meeting instead of taking my spot by Ruby. I wasn’t trying to punish her. I just wanted to see her from a different point of view. Turn the problem upside down and see what came to me.
What came to me was a heaping load of guilt every time she went to talk to me and I wasn’t there. Her brows would furrow, her mouth would drop. That heaping load turned into a metric ton when she pulled her Secret Cupid name, twitched toward my usual spot, then stopped herself.
I wasn’t there. She needed help and I wasn’t there.
It doesn’t matter that Liam told me they’d put braille on all the name slips, brusquely pointing it out on the slip in my hand. It doesn’t matter that Ruby could have read it all on her own. Of course she could have. If it wasn’t in braille, she has apps to help with that stuff.
But that doesn’t matter.
What matters is that she looked to me for help.
And. I. Wasn’t. There.
“Ruby,” I say, grabbing her wrist before she can exit my car. Her heart beats fast and hard beneath my fingers.
Great. Now I’m making her nervous. Can I do nothing right?
I let go of her and run my hand through my hair.
“Yes?” she chirps.
Right. That.
I hate that.
Time to fix it.
I breathe in, deep, then let it go. “I’m sorry,” I say. “About earlier. I shouldn’t have left it like that and-”
“What?” she interrupts. “Will, no. Stop. You don’t need to apologize to me. I’m the one who should be saying sorry.” She winces. “And I am. Really sorry. I shouldn’t have joked when you were…”
When I was laying my heart bare before her?
No, she shouldn’t have, but…
“I shouldn’t have pushed.”
She blushes, pretty, pretty, pretty, and I’m captivated, watching it spread up her neck and over her face.
“That’s,” she squeaks, then clears her throat. “That’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I pushed,” I remind her, “When you gave no indication you were ready for it. We go at your pace, Ruby. We always go at your pace. But I got impatient, and I pushed, and look at where it got us.” I give a useless gesture to us, to the car, to the awkwardness in the air. “This isn’t us. Sitting in my car, acting weird with each other. I don’t like it, and I can’t imagine that you do either.”
Perhaps that’s more hope than anything else, but I think not. Not with how many times she looked for me at the meeting. If nothing else, we’re friends. I heard her say it herself. And friends don’t chirp and squeak and sit in uncomfortable company with one another.
“I don’t,” she whispers. “I- You-” Her blush spreads to her ears as she twines her fingers together in her lap. “You’re Will,” she says, then, so low I barely hear her whisper, “You’re Candy.”
My heart stops, then restarts at twice - no, four times - the speed.
“What did you say?” I ask, reaching for her hands. Grasping. “Say that again.”
Her fingers twitch beneath mine, but don’t pull away.
My heart soars .
“I said,” she clears her throat, a bashful expression I’ve never seen on her before overtaking her face. “You’re Will.”
Oh, so it’s like that, huh?
“And?” I ask, a kernel of hope in my chest making me brave.
She sighs. Scowls beneath her burning cheeks. Huffs. “ And you’re Candy.” Bliss, pure and sweet, rolling off of her tongue.
My hope grows, bursts through. “I’m Candy,” I breathe.
Her throat clears again. “Yes. Well. It’s code for ‘idiot’, you know.”
A laugh hurtles from my throat. “Of course.” I squeeze her hands in mine. “I wouldn’t suggest otherwise.”
Prim, she nods. “As long as we’re on the same page.”
I smile, eyes catching on the pink of her cheeks.
She looks cute. And I’m Candy. And everything is going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.
Better than okay, because I’m Candy . Which is code for idiot, which is code for Candy .
I lean across the middle console and kiss her burning cheek, then rest my forehead against her temple. “Thank you, Ruby.”
“That’s Rubble to you,” she sniffs. “And I don’t know what you’re thanking me for.”
Rubble .
“For forgiving me. For thinking I’m an idiot. For being so… you .” I sigh, twisting my face toward her hair to inhale the cherry scent of her.
Tart. Sweet. The slightest hint of acid.
Perfection.
“Are you… hungry?” she asks, inviting me in.
Ravenous.
Thankfully, my brain works quicker than my mouth, and I realize she means for food before I can blurt out how very much I’d like to consume her instead.
“I could eat,” I grumble.
She gulps.