Chapter 49
Ruby
WHEN HE TOUCHED ME now, it felt like he was doing his best to take away the things I never let show, insecurities and pain I never admitted until now, except sarcastically. Sebastian absorbed it all with his body, his words, his touch, his confidence in me, in us.
His confidence amazed me—it was like he knew the ending while I was still frantically flipping pages.
It was contagious. The more time passed, the more confident I became. I even confessed I was afraid of our first real fight. “What if, in anger, I go full-on sarcastic, too-much me? You’ll want to catch the first space shuttle and get as far the hell from me as possible.”
“Bring it on. Fight me now. Tell me you prefer Marvel over DC, and I’ll give you our first fight. Then you’ll see that I’m here even when you’re at your most annoying,” Sebastian said, his face calm, his eyes locked on mine.
We were driving back in my car from another date the next weekend, when he came to stay again. We’d spent the evening at the Shore Thing in Blueshore, one of my favorite beach bars, and I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact that Sebastian and I were dating. Like, dating dating.
I returned my gaze to the road ahead, my grip on the wheel easing. “I’d never say that Marvel is better than DC.” I scoffed. “My Superman tattoo wouldn’t survive such betrayal.”
Sebastian huffed a breathy chuckle. He’d already said he’d need to get a matching tattoo. Then his tone turned serious. “And you’re never too much, Ruby. Couples fight. But no one’s leaving.”
I swallowed. “You know my dad left, right?”
“Yes, but not everyone—”
“My mom always said it was my fault. Because I could be too much.” I interjected because I had to get it all out before I lost the courage to say it.
“She ... what?”
I shot him a look. He was utterly shocked.
“But you know it’s not true, right?” His eyes stayed on my profile. Then, softer, like the thought had just landed, he added, “You don’t.”
I slowed and parked in front of the inn’s main house, where lines of guests’ cars were already crammed in.
We unbuckled and stepped out. Sebastian came around the car and stopped in front of me. “By now you’ve probably figured out she blamed you because she couldn’t stand to lay it where it belonged—on herself. And him. Right?”
When I only gave a half-grimace, half-shrug, he went on.
“You know it with your head, not with ...” His palm pressed over my heart. “Ruby.” Just my name—then a gathering into his arms. The muscular version of his teddy bear hug. Strong, grounding, enveloping.
That was all I needed. He’d probably have to say it a thousand more times before I’d believe it, but still, it was what I needed. What Evangeline promised would happen.
I told her about that a few days after he went back to Houston to meet with his managers and sort out the transfer to California.
Wedding prep for Rio had me stopping by Bay & Bloom to give Eve the update on what time I’d need the flowers delivered.
The bell over the shop door jingled as I pushed it open, the scent of roses and lilies hitting me like always.
Through the half-open doorway to the back room, I caught a flash of Eve—on her tiptoes, wrapped tight in the arms of a man I didn’t recognize.
His head was bent toward hers, his face buried in her neck. Close, too close for casual.
I stopped at the counter where Marcy was busy arranging colorful ribbon spools.
“Who’s that?” I asked, jerking my chin toward the back.
Her expression was already doing that thing where she pretended she wasn’t bursting with juicy details.
“Step-brother. Or something. I know his parents owned this shop,” she whispered.
Like me, Marcy wasn’t born a local, though she seemed to be in everyone’s business as if she were.
“If you wait five minutes, I’ll have the whole story. ”
Typical Marcy. Having her working here was probably good for Bay & Bloom’s bottom line. She knew before anyone else when flowers would be needed for engagements, weddings, funerals, sickrooms, sorrys—you name it. But when it came to the really sensitive stuff, she could be a disaster.
And I now knew who that man was. Hayden Holmes.
I’d met Eve after he’d already moved away, so I wouldn’t recognize him by sight, especially when I couldn’t exactly see his face. But that embrace—and Marcy’s words—made it clear.
The back door banged softly a minute later, and Eve appeared. She looked pale, as if someone had pulled all the color right out of her.
Hayden must have left through the back exit where Eve’s delivery van was parked.
I didn’t even bother pretending. “Come on,” I said, looping an arm through hers. “I need coffee. Now.”
She didn’t argue. Which told me everything.
“What happened?” I asked the second we stepped outside.
“You saw? That was—”
“Hayden,” I finished for her.
“Yeah. He’s here to check retirement homes for Rachel and to see his dad. Pete is ... deteriorating.”
“I’m so sorry, Evie,” I said. I had so many nicknames for her, but that one I rarely used.
“It was expected. Pete, I mean. And Rachel.”
“And Hayden being here?”
“Also.”
We didn’t end up getting coffee, just drifted down a side street because I could see she needed the movement more than caffeine.
“Where’s he staying?”
“With Rachel.” By that, she meant the family’s home—a small house in the valley outside town. It used to be surrounded by flower fields, she’d told me once. The Holmeses used to grow flowers for export and sale.
“How long since you’ve seen him?” I asked.
“He visits his parents twice a year,” she said, her voice low. “But we haven’t really spent time together in ... God, it feels like forever.”
Eve slowed when we reached the corner. “I should get back to the shop. Marcy can handle things, but ... better not tempt fate.” She let out a dry chuckle.
Marcy was busy with a customer, so Eve and I talked through Rio’s wedding—the flower arrangements’ delivery time, number of vases, baby’s breath fillers. She tapped it all into the shop’s computer, the software she’d coded herself a few years back, a reminder of her techy past.
I knew firsthand that clinging to business talk was easier than admitting your whole world had tilted. I didn’t know the details, but I could almost swear Evangeline’s world had just suffered a tilt.
“Hey, can you not bring this up with the girls tonight?” Eve asked just before I left.
They were all due at the inn for Rio’s bachelorette—a sleepover, like the one I’d promised Eve we’d have the night I stayed over at hers.
“No problem,” I said.
When I left her at Bay & Bloom, I glanced back once, the bell over the door jingling behind me.
I thought about her long after I drove away.
Bar us and the Holmeses, Evangeline was alone in the world, and maybe that was why she wanted so badly to belong to someone.
We all knew it. Which was why we never teased her about her serial dating.
Still, I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d ever considered that the belonging she ached for was closer than she let herself imagine. Maybe too close.
WE GATHERED IN ONE of the inn’s cabins that night, wine bottles and food trays scattered across the coffee table.
“Thanks for my third mini-bachelorette party,” Rio said, laughing.
She laughed at everything tonight, so deliriously happy that it was infectious.
She laughed when she told us that June, the owner of the health shop and her friend, had taken her to celebrate one night, and that her sister-in-law had given her a gift another day, and now she had us.
“Piece by piece, it adds up,” she said, raising her glass.
Eve laughed right along with us, looking like her usual self.
She even told us about a date she’d been on where the guy flirted shamelessly with the waitress right in front of her.
“When he came back from the restroom with his fly open and toilet paper stuck to his shoe, the waitress and I just looked at each other and cracked up.” Eve shook her head, grinning.
“I told him the babysitter called and I had to run.”
“The babysitter?” I echoed.
“Yep. He said, ‘I didn’t know you had kids.’ And I said, ‘Yeah, six of them—didn’t I mention Bruce was my firstborn and favorite?’ Then I left.”
We roared, wine sloshing in our glasses.
For a second, looking at Daphne, I wondered if she knew about Hayden.
She and Eve had gone to the same school.
Eve always said Daph was the tough, smart girl no one dared mess with, so they hadn’t been in the same circle.
Still, a small town, Daphne knew the families, the history.
Maybe she just didn’t think there was much to it.
When the laughter calmed, I told them about promoting Sandra to vice manager so I could breathe a little easier.
“The inn’s full right now, and I wouldn’t even be able to sit here if I hadn’t released the reins a bit and promoted her.
She’ll be more committed now that she’s got a title and less time to nitpick herself. Keeps her busy, keeps me free.”
Daphne arched a brow. “Isn’t she the one who flirted with Seb?”
I blinked. “Wait. Did I tell you guys that?”
Rio smirked into her glass. “I think you mentioned it.”
I grinned smugly. “Well, she can flirt all she wants. He’s mine.”
I wondered what anyone passing by the cabin would make of our whoops and cheers when Rio tore open the wrapped box we’d given her. She laughed through her tears when she saw its contents, and it hit me all over again—how strange and right it was that she’d ended up with Owen.
And me with Sebastian. Both of us with someone who’d somehow always been there. I almost said it out loud, but thinking of Eve, I didn’t. I sensed that saying it would be the equivalent of pulling a thread connected to an explosive device that had to be handled with precision and care.
“You’d be his personal cheerleader,” Evangeline said.
Rio held up the sexy nightie in Owen’s jersey number and team colors, plus the matching lingerie set and satin robe we’d got her so she wouldn’t catch a cold cheering him on.
“Is it true footballers don’t have sex the night before a game?” Eve asked.
Rio threw her head back, laughing. “Hell, no. Not in our case.”
Catching a quieter moment before we turned to sleep—we weren’t twenty anymore after all, and if we wanted to look rested the next day, we needed our sleep—I texted Sebastian.
The evening served as a great distraction, but I missed him with every nerve and bone and space in me.
“I miss you,” I wrote. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
Sebastian’s reply came fast. “Too late. I’m already drunk on it.”
I smiled at the screen like a fool, then tossed the phone aside before I could get too sappy. We talked every night and texted in between, but I didn’t want us getting used to technology replacing the real thing.
We didn’t have a date for his moving back to California yet—too many moving parts at NASA, apparently—but at least I knew he’d be here soon for the long weekend of Rio’s rehearsal dinner and wedding.
Houston could have him for now, but soon enough, he’d be all mine.