5. Chapter Five Ruby
Chapter Five: Ruby
A nother fucking day campaigning.
That was my first thought after I woke up in the sleek, impersonal house Julian insisted on maintaining for appearances.
We weren’t getting a divorce yet for my sake, but the house was excessive, with the spiral staircase and the ivy on the exterior wall. It screamed ‘we’re thriving,’ even though the only thing thriving here was the mold in the basement Julian refused to deal with.
The white walls and stainless steel surfaces felt as cold as our current relationship. I missed the warmth of our old first apartment together, where every corner held a memory. Here, it was all performative, like a stage set for a play I no longer wanted a part in.
But then there was Rosie, curled up beside me—she often started the night in her bed and her morning in mine—her hair a mess and her face peaceful.
She looked so content. My heart ached with love for her and a twinge of resentment for Julian.
How could he be so infuriating and yet provide this stability for her, the one thing I couldn’t walk away from?
This place might be a facade, but it gave her the comfort and stability a child needed. For that, I was grateful.
I wasn’t grateful for much else.
I slipped out of bed and into the bathroom, tying my hair into a messy bun.
The woman in the mirror looked tired, her dark eyes less intense, more weary.
I had a long day ahead: a court appearance, a campaign event, and now this meeting with Alek, which he had messaged me about in the middle of the night.
Just thinking about it made my shoulders sag.
Why couldn’t he just text me like a normal human?
Oh yeah—he wasn’t normal.
Neither of us were.
Back in the bedroom, I kissed Rosie’s forehead to wake her. “Time for school, mi amor.”
She stretched and yawned, her freckles scrunching up like tiny stars. “Five more minutes.”
“Nice try, peanut,” I said, pulling the covers off her. “Let’s go. We have to be out the door in thirty.”
“But Mami…”
“If I hear you complain again, I’m going to finish the cocoa puffs all by myself.”
She sprang up like a daisy, eyes wide with horror. “You wouldn’t!”
“Try me,” I said with a smirk, knowing full well I could never be that cruel.
I wandered into the kitchen as Rosie shuffled down the hall toward the bathroom. The space looked more like a showroom than a place where anyone actually cooked—glass, chrome, edges too clean.
I opened the fridge and stared inside: green juice, almond milk, a sad lineup of vegetables. Even the food here looked like it was trying too hard.
On the counter, I spotted the half-full carafe in the machine and poured myself a cup, not caring that it was yesterday’s brew. The coffee was cold and bitter—fitting. I took a sip and tried to convince myself this was fine. Normal, even. That I could live like this a little longer.
Rosie came back and found the cereal and milk without needing help. The stainless steel appliances gleamed like they were judging us. I wished for something more familiar. A chipped enamel kettle. Mismatched mugs. A place that didn’t feel like it was waiting for a magazine shoot.
She ate in silence. I drank my coffee.
“Mami,” Rosie said, her mouth half-full, “is Daddy still setting my study schedule for Saturday?”
I paused, choosing my words carefully. “We’ll see, mi amor.” I forced a smile, but the frustration bubbled beneath the surface. Julian’s need to control every aspect of Rosie’s life was exhausting, but I couldn’t let her see that. Not today.
She frowned and went back to her cereal. I hated how I had to keep her in the dark about so many things. Julian’s micromanaging was one thing, but his recent distance was another. He was pulling away, and I feared he was taking Rosie with him.
I heard his car pull in.
My heart did a little two-step, a mix of anxiety and something that used to be excitement. I’d thought he was staying at the condo this week.
Rosie perked up instantly. “Daddy’s home!” she exclaimed, abandoning her cereal and running toward the front door.
I followed more slowly, coffee cup in hand, trying to steel myself for whatever reason he had for coming back.
Julian stepped through the door, all tall and disheveled grace. He wore one of those casual-but-actually-expensive shirts I used to buy him for his birthday. Now he bought his own, but they still held a trace of me in them.
“Hey, kiddo,” he said, scooping Rosie up with one arm. She giggled and kissed his cheek. “I thought you were asleep.”
“I was,” she said, “but Mami woke me.”
“For good reason. Early bird gets the worm.”
Rosie made a face. “Why would I want a worm?”
Julian laughed, a deep, warm sound that used to make me feel at home. Now it just echoed in the empty spaces of our lives. “It’s a saying, sweetheart. It means—“
“I know what it means,” she cut him off, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m not a baby!”
I stood in the doorway of the kitchen, unsure whether to move closer or retreat. This was the hardest part: seeing them together, happy, and knowing that I was the one who had started this fissure by wanting more than what we had become.
There was a part of me that didn’t know if I had ever loved Julian, or if I had just loved the way he treated my daughter.
But that was something to unpack in therapy, not right now.
If I ever had time for therapy again.
“Julian,” I said, interrupting their moment. “Can I have a word?”
He set Rosie down gently, and she scampered back to the kitchen.
Julian walked over to me, running a hand through his hair.
He looked tired, but not in the way I felt.
His was the fatigue of a man working tirelessly toward his goals; mine was the exhaustion of a woman treading water, trying to keep everything afloat.
Yeah, I’d wanted to be the DA for years—one day—but my boss’s death had thrown me for a loop.
I wasn’t ready for this, no matter how much everyone seemed to believe in me.
“I thought you were staying at the condo,” I said, staying casual for Rosie’s sake.
“I was,” he said, glancing toward the kitchen where Rosie was making more noise than necessary with her cereal bowl. “But I wanted to talk to you about something important.”
My stomach tightened. Every “important” conversation lately had been bad news: the high profile client dinners, the endless networking events, the speaking engagements. Julian always found a way to turn his career into a performance, and I was the one left cleaning up the mess.
I braced myself.
“Can it wait? I have to get Rosie to school and then—“
“It can’t,” he said, cutting me off. “It’s about Rosie.”
Of course it was. Everything was about Rosie. That’s what had made our partnership work for so long: our united front as parents. But now that front was crumbling, and with it, my certainty about everything else.
I sighed. “Fine. What is it?”
He hesitated, which made me even more anxious.
“If you win…I mean, look, if you get elected, I’ve been thinking.
Do you think maybe you should move out and I can stay here?
I can provide more stability, and you’ll be dealing with high profile criminals.
I’m not saying it has to happen, just…The condo is very nice. Right by the harbor, near City Hall.”
He trailed off, but the implication was clear. Just until Rosie was older. Just until she could understand. Just until she could forgive me for choosing a career over her.
Was he really trying to sell me on the location of our own damn fucking condo?
“Are you serious?” I whispered, not trusting my voice to remain steady if I spoke any louder.
“It’s just a thought,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I want what’s best for her, that’s all.”
I stared at him, trying to reconcile this man with the Julian I once knew. He had always been pragmatic, yes, but never this calculating. Or maybe he had been all along, and I’d simply been too blinded by our life together to see it.
“What’s best for her,” I repeated slowly, “is having both her parents. Present.”
“We’ll still be present,” he said, as if it were that simple.
“You’re a corporate litigator. You work insane hours, Julian.”
“And you don’t?” he shot back, his voice rising. “At least when I’m home, I’m here. You’re always thinking about the next case, the next campaign.”
“We both know that’s bullshit,” I snapped, though I caught myself in seconds, glancing back toward Rosie before going on. “I’m doing this for her . For us.”
He shook his head, a pitying smile on his face—like I just couldn’t see how stupid I was being. “You’re doing it for you, Ruby. And that’s fine. Just be honest about it.”
I opened my mouth to argue, to tell him that he was wrong, that every sacrifice I’d made was for our family. But deep down, I knew he was right. The ambition that drove me had always been personal, even if I justified it as something larger.
Rosie peeked around the corner, her eyes curious and cautious. She knew when we were fighting, even if we kept our voices low and our words civil.
“Don’t worry about it,” Julian said, his tone softening. “We’ll talk later.” He started toward the kitchen, then paused and turned back to me. “I hope you crush it today. Really. Now…where’s my favorite little girl?”
Rosie emerged from her hiding spot, clutching her backpack. “Daddy, can you drive me to school?”
I looked at Julian, then at Rosie. How could I say no without becoming the villain in their story?
“Sure,” Julian said, smiling down at her. “But only if it’s okay with Mami.”
All eyes were on me now. Rosie’s hopeful, Julian’s calculated. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling the weight of every decision pressing down on me.
“Of course,” I said. “That’ll give me more time to prepare for court.”
Julian nodded, already flipping through Rosie’s planner after he grabbed it off the kitchen counter. “I see you have a busy week, kiddo.”
Rosie beamed. “Yeah, lots of tests and projects.”