Chapter 44
Sebastian
THE OPEN WINDOW CARRIED in the traffic noise from the street. At eleven p.m., it was still busy down there, and the sound made my apartment feel less lonely. The fall night was mild, the air soft against my skin as I lay in bed, scrolling through work emails on my tablet.
Nathan had texted earlier, trying to rope me into a night out with him, Hillary, and Alison. I’d declined. I didn’t have it in me to make small talk, to pretend I was interested. Staying in was easier. Numbers and schematics didn’t ask questions. They didn’t notice when your chest ached.
I swiped to the next email, forcing my mind to stay on work, when my screen lit with a new notification—her name. Ruby.
And just like that, the world halted its spin.
There’d been radio silence since I left Coral Bay. Seeing her name now, lighting up my screen at one a.m. her time, was like a shock to the system.
I swiped the notification open.
“Houston, I think we have a problem.”
My pulse kicked. For half a second, instinct shoved me into engineer mode. The roof? Dave? Another leak? What broke now?
I typed fast: “Is it the roof? Dave? What happened?”
Her reply came back a moment later.
“No. I love you.”
Everything in me went still. The traffic, the emails, the world—it all dropped away. Just four words, but they hit like steel wrapped in silk. Force and softness—like the woman who sent them.
I stared, hardly breathing, reading them again as if they might vanish. My fingers tightened around the tablet, like I could hold on to her through glass and light.
Another ping lit the screen before I could muster words to reply.
“Houston, are you there?”
I was still processing. She’d just handed me the deepest part of her, the truest thing she had.
I knew how precious this was, how hard it had been for her.
And she’d done it in her pure Rubyness—only Ruby could call love a problem, swear it ruined things, and still choose it anyway.
Giving her heart away was her greatest fear, yet here it was, in my hands.
Despite what she’d said when I left, I did know who she was.
And I also knew she was built for forevers. She just needed time to see it herself.
“I’m here.” And because it clawed its way out of me, I added: “Always.”
I waited, chest tight, staring at the cursor like it could carry my heartbeat across the miles.
Three blinking dots. Then nothing. Then another incoming:
“Did you get the above?”
I was too rattled to realize I hadn’t said what to me was obvious. I typed again. “I love you too.”
I wanted to suggest a call, to hear her voice, see her face, but before I could, another bubble appeared. “Day after tomorrow, there’s a grand reopening party of sorts at the inn. Can you come? Please?”
“I’ll be there,” I replied.
I got why she wanted it that way. We were on the same wavelength—some things couldn’t live on a screen, they had to be lived in person. Nothing could replace the feel of her in my arms, the warmth of her against my skin. I wanted to hear the words in her voice and meet them in her gaze.
I needed her—every flaw, every perfection, every bit of Rubyness. And more than anything, I wanted her to know that whatever she believed about herself, she was everything to me.