Chapter 38
Lucy
Istare at TJ’s face on our video call, hating that I’m not in the same room as him. I want to trace my finger down his nose. I want to reposition the collar of his t-shirt so I can see his tiger tattoo. I want to be close to him.
He looks away from the camera. “I’ve gotta go, Lu. Coach assigned me some extra tape to watch ahead of our game.” He glances at the camera again and attempts a smile. “Says I need to put in some more time after my terrible practice today.”
I can tell he’s trying to keep things light, so I do the same. “Tell him I think you’re the opposite of terrible.”
TJ laughs. “You tell him.”
I smile. If only I could.
TJ hasn’t come out and said it, but I think I’m the reason he’s practicing poorly. He’d never blame me, but he told me he can’t stop thinking about me.
Ditto.
I thought being apart from him would save him from worrying about me, but I guess I was wrong.
“I’ll call you tonight.”
I muster a smile. “Sounds good. Can’t wait.”
“Okay.” He presses his lips together, looking just about as miserable as I feel. “Bye.”
“Bye.”
My list of recent calls replaces TJ’s face on the screen.
This has become the worst part of our video calls …
saying goodbye. Neither of us wants to. Neither of us knows how.
It’s been less than a week since I kissed him for the first time.
Four days since the media descended on Daisy’s Inn.
Four measly days. That’s how long I’ve been back in California, away from TJ, and already I feel like a stranger in my own skin.
I thought I was doing what was best—for him and for me—by leaving.
But I don’t know about that anymore. Something has to give.
I’m circling around what that is and frustrated with myself for waffling, but I’m scared.
Knowing I’m being cowardly is making me feel even worse.
I toss my phone on my childhood bed and sigh.
“Knock knock.” My stepmom’s voice echoes from the hallway outside my room.
“Come on in, Ruby.” I sit up straighter, trying to look less melancholy than I feel.
My stepmom swings the door open and walks into my room.
She’s dressed to perfection in jeans and a crisp white button-up.
Ruby has a way of looking effortlessly chic every day, but you get her on overdrive when the camera crew is in the house.
“We’re about ready to film the dinner segment for the show, sweetie.
I thought you might be hungry.” She holds out a bowl for me, and I take it as my stomach rumbles. We share a small laugh.
My mind snags on the camera crew downstairs. Is this my chance?
“I haven’t eaten since this morning,” I tell her. I look down at the hearty bowl of chili and then flick my gaze to her. “Thanks.”
“I was inspired to make it after you texted about the recipe,” she says with a shrug. “Your dad had it perfected. I don’t know that I’ve ever made a batch that matched up with his, but I tried.” She bends over and kisses me on the forehead. “In any case, it’s made with love.”
I suck in a breath, keeping my eyes closed for a moment before blinking them open and staring back at Ruby’s kind expression.
“You sure you’re okay, Lu? You know you’re welcome to join us. You’re part of this family, and we’re not ashamed of you or what you said.”
I’m shaking my head before she’s even finished talking. “I know, and thank you. I don’t know if I’m ready to put myself out there.”
It’s my auto-response, but even as I say it, there’s a tug inside me. If not now, when? Do I want to live in this weird limbo any longer?
“Whenever you are, we’re here for you.” Ruby takes a step toward the door and then looks over her shoulder at me. “For what it’s worth, I hope it’s sooner rather than later. You have a lot of life ahead of you, sweetie. Don’t let one bad moment taint the whole picture.”
She offers me a smile, and I nibble my lip as she closes the door quietly behind her. Her steps recede as she walks down the stairs.
I stir the soup. Steam rises as I instinctively try to separate the beans from the rest of the chili.
Disgusting, fleshy little turd nuggets. But then I freeze, my spoon hovering over the bowl.
My dad’s voice rings loud and clear in my ear: “If I leave out the beans, it’ll change up the flavor of the entire soup.
You don’t have to like them—you can be disgusted by them—but that doesn’t mean they don’t have a purpose. ”
Slowly, I start mixing the beans back in.
I curl my legs up beneath me on my bed and stare at the chili.
Tears prick at my eyes. My dad feels so close to me right now.
I can hear his laugh. I can see the smile lines around his eyes.
My mind switches out the picture of him and replaces it with Loretta and Martin giving each other a hard time.
I can see myself in the grocery store in Cashmere Cove, shopping for chili ingredients and meeting Rose.
I flash forward to being on the square dance floor with TJ, and to every moment with him since then.
How many times have I wished I had kept my cool, kept my opinions to myself on the People’s Picks stage, so I wouldn’t be dealing with the fallout?
More than I can count. But what’s done is done.
A bean in the chili of my life, to take the analogy and run with it.
It brought me to Cashmere Cove. It put me in the path of good people. People I never would have met if I hadn’t left California in search of privacy and to try to figure myself out.
Have I figured myself out? I don’t know about that.
I’m getting there, maybe. I’ll always be a work in progress.
But I don’t want to be stuck. I want to keep writing this story.
I don’t have to like how I acted on the People’s Picks stage, but I can recognize that it was a catalyst for a lot of good.
My pulse accelerates when I think about TJ. I can’t imagine not knowing him. Not having shared my heart with him and received his heart in return. This relationship between us is new, but it’s got the roots of friendship and the promise of something true and good and beautiful.
I take a bite of chili, beans and all, and mull over my options.
It’s time to stop running away, to own up to what I did and said, and allow the public to make of it what they will.
I’d rather people didn’t hate me, but if they do, I can’t control that.
What I can control is who I surround myself with and how I spend my time.
My family is downstairs, with an offer on the table for me to join them.
They are good, and they love me. If I’m going to face down my demons—those of my own making, and those made by the public’s perception of me—there’s no better way to do that than with them at my side.
Something settles deep in my chest—a feeling of peace I haven’t known in a long time. I bask in it for a couple minutes, talking to God, talking to my parents, chronicling this moment, because it feels like it’s a big one—one that’ll be a turning point in my life.
I know what I have to do. I grab my laptop. I’m going to need more hours in the next day, but I’ll do my best with what I have.
For now, I scramble to make myself TV-ready, throwing on a black turtleneck and exchanging my oversized sweatpants for a decent pair of black denim jeans.
I take a minute to swipe on some fresh mascara and touch up the rest of my makeup before I pull out the necklace I ordered for myself in a fit of late-night online shopping when I first got to California.
It’s subtle, but when I clasp the chain behind my neck and straighten out the two discs that are etched with a T and a J, it feels like I may as well have rented out a billboard to broadcast my feelings for TJ.
He’s not here with me now, but he’s here in spirit.
I know he’s my biggest champion as I own my mistakes and speak my mind.
I smile at myself in the mirror. I can do this, and I’m not doing it alone.
I’d rather not draw all the attention to myself, but since filming has already started, it’s inevitable.
The cameras are rolling, and they capture the surprised looks on the faces of Ruby and my stepsisters as well as the shocked expressions from their guests, who didn’t know I was here, as I step into the dining room.
Ruby bustles around to set an extra place at the table for me, and after a couple beats of awkward silence where we all just stare at each other, I take a deep breath and begin.
“I have some things to say.”
It’s time to start living again.