19. Ruth
Chapter nineteen
Ruth
Ruth
R eal dating. It sounded like something an elementary school student would come home and tell her mom. “Hey, Mom! Cal and I are real dating!”
And yet, to me, it was everything.
It propelled me through my day on Friday, lightening my steps like fluffy little clouds under my feet. It brightened my voice as I spoke to my clients about their matches, and it painted my successful work in a rose gold glow that kept me flushed and warm all day.
Gemma noticed around lunchtime when she came in to check on me. She caught me in the lobby where I limped toward the elevator doors. Despite my aching knee, I had a dopey, permanent smile on my face that probably looked just shy of creepy.
She caught up to me, dancing around me to block my path before I could make it to the elevator doors. Gemma had her hair in her signature half-up, twin buns style, and it curled around her shoulders and down to her waist where her ribbed black top had been tucked into a burgundy and burnt sienna plaid skirt. She cocked her head as I halted, and she smiled wider. “Wait. Wait. ” She leaned forward, her blue eyes boring into mine. “You got laid.”
“Shh,” I chided, looking around the empty lobby, but grinning nonetheless.
“You got some !” Gemma crowed, fist-pumping. “I knew it. I knew it. You owe me Chinese. And extra rangoons. And probably part of your soul because I told you , bitch.”
“Oh my God,” I groaned, reaching for her in an unsuccessful attempt to shut her up.
“Hey Olivia,” Gemma said louder, spinning to face the desk. “Ruth got laid!”
Olivia blinked at us in confusion, which made sense because as far as Olivia knew, I was married. I reached around Gemma, ignoring the twinge in my knee, and clamped a hand around her mouth. “Ignore her,” I apologized. “Obviously I got laid.” Gritting my teeth, I added with a growl, “Because I’m married.”
Gemma cackled. “Sorry, sorry. Yes.” She turned and hugged me, surrounding me with the scent of roses and fresh soap. “You lucky little nerd. All the details. Now.”
I waited until our Chinese dinner that night to fill Gemma in on everything that had happened. I included the bathtub disaster, and skipping over the details she actually begged me for, I admitted that I got thoroughly ravished the night before. Several times.
Gemma sighed, sitting back in her booth with half-eaten rangoons and a plate of lo mein on the restaurant table in front of her. She patted her soft belly with a pout. “No fair, Ruthie P. You get sex, and your boyfriend is a sexy-as-fuck doctor, and I’m on like my thirtieth failed date this year.”
I tilted my eyebrows up in concern, sitting back with a full stomach myself. “Thirty?” My knee was on fire, and my head had started to pound sometime after lunch, but I couldn’t find it in myself to care much at the moment. Everything seemed so sparkly.
Gemma picked up a fortune cookie and unwrapped it sullenly. “I brought a guy home last weekend and he lasted like forty seconds tops before blowing his load. Then he got a look at Mini and said he was allergic to dogs, but I’m pretty sure his pansy little pale ass was afraid of her. That might be a record for fastest fuck and ditch for me.”
Mini was basically a small horse of a Doberman, so I couldn’t really blame the poor guy for being afraid of Gemma’s dog. “You didn’t tell me you had a guy over last weekend. Stop bringing random guys to your place. It’s dangerous.”
Gemma snorted, nibbling on the edge of the fortune cookie. “I’m pretty sure I weighed more than that guy. Mini was there, anyway. The most dangerous thing about it was how bad the sex was. ”
I smiled, grabbing a fortune cookie of my own. “Was this before or after you rescued me?”
“After. We’d been talking through text for a couple of weeks, and I met him for dinner Saturday night.” Her eyes widened with irritation as she cracked the cookie and pulled out the slip of paper. “I’m pretty sure it was the half a bottle of wine that made him look appealing, now that I think about it.”
“Oh good, you’re getting drunk before you bring them home,” I said sarcastically.
“Not a word from you, Speed Dating Ruth.”
I grimaced. “Fair point.”
Gemma read her fortune and then burst into laughter. She tossed it onto the table for me to read, but said it out loud anyway. “‘Letting new people into your space doesn’t take up room, but rather, broadens your horizons.’”
I pulled a face. “That’s eerie. Don’t do that.”
Still laughing, she smashed the fortune slip with her empty soda cup. “Fuck you, fortune cookie. No more randos in my house. I’m officially swearing off men for the foreseeable future. What’s yours?”
I snapped the cookie in half and fished out the slip of paper. My lips pulled into a pout. “I hate when they give platitudes instead of actual fortunes.”
“Oh yeah, me too. Like, I don’t want advice—I want to know when my soulmate is showing up. What does it say?”
“‘Be a leaf in the wind; let fortune guide you.’” I rolled my eyes. “Very helpful.”
“Well, at least the food was good,” Gemma chuckled. “Do you need a ride home?”
I glanced at my phone, face-down on the table. My cheeks warmed. “Cal is coming.”
Gemma made an “oooh” sound. “Is he staying the night?”
I shook my head, sliding out of the booth and standing with a stretch. “No, he’s staying at the center late tonight to catch up on paperwork, and then he has rounds in the hospital early tomorrow morning.”
Gemma clicked her tongue, sighing. “Lame. Still, doctors are so hot.”
I thought back to my “anatomy lesson” with Cal and had to agree. They were.
Gemma waited with me until Cal pulled up, and after giving him finger guns, she sashayed off to her car in the dark parking lot. Cal came around to my side to open my door, but he pulled me into him before I could slide in. He looked tired, honestly. His eyes crinkled at the corners and his hair had gotten disheveled again, but he wrapped me in a hug that soothed my soul and body in equal measures. “You’re limping pretty badly there, Shortstop.”
“Mm,” I hummed into his shirt. Usually, he smelled like whatever shampoo he used, but after a long day, he smelled like male and deodorant with a hint of coconut, and I wanted to lick him. “I’m okay, though. Really.”
He groaned, molding his body to mine so perfectly, it was like we really were made for each other. “You’re making me regret working right now.”
A selfish part of me desperately wanted him to not work, but I knew better. His patients had to come first. “You can make it up to me tomorrow.”
“Deal.” He helped me into my seat, and then when he was buckled and had put the car into drive, he glanced over at me. “How did it go today?”
“Good. Janice is advertising my new three-pronged service, and the clients are responding positively to it. I think the best part is that I’m not matching them, really. They’re matching themselves. I’m just doing the data work for them ahead of time.”
“So, between researching… what was it? Silver painting?”
“Silverpoint paintings,” I supplied with amusement.
“Right. So, between silverpoint painting research and matchmaking, which one do you like better now?” he asked with a fast glance at me before looking at the road.
“Hm.” I thought for a second, running through my memories of doing research for Vaughn versus how I had felt this one week after getting a better grasp of my job. On the one hand, research was straightforward and uncomplicated. But, to be honest, it was a little boring. I had regrets that I hadn’t pursued archaeology science like I had wanted because radiocarbon dating still held a part of my heart and interest. But on the other hand, the science of matching people together had a certain anthropological aspect to it that appealed to me the more I explored it .
After a few seconds, I said, “I think I enjoy matchmaking more.”
Cal smiled, glancing at me again. “I love that you take time to think about things before answering. It’s very you.”
I pushed at my glasses sheepishly. “It probably looks weird, huh?”
Cal shook his head. “Not at all. I like that you take the time to be honest with your answers. We live in an age of instant gratification, and more and more, I think people feel the need to answer things immediately. We text and message rapid-fire, and our patience gets shorter all the time. But you’re still methodical and careful with your words. It’s admirable.”
I tucked my bottom lip between my teeth, nearly glowing. “Oh.”
“Oh,” he mocked with a smile.
“How about you?” I asked him to take the focus off me. “How did things go today?”
“Good,” he sighed, which made it sound like it had been anything but. “Well,” he amended with a half-shrug, “it was good until just an hour ago. One of my Multiple Sclerosis patients is in the hospital, and I need to go check on him. I just saw him the other day, so I feel, I don’t know… guilty?”
“Like you missed something?” I clarified.
“Maybe.” Cal’s profile flashed brightly from a passing car, illuminating the stress in his features. “I know I didn’t miss anything, but I still irrationally feel like I should have seen the virus coming. ”
I lifted my hand, wanting to reach for him. After a moment of hesitation, I did. I folded my hand over his, which rested on the gear shift. He gave me a fast look before returning his eyes to the road, and I squeezed his fingers comfortingly. “That’s really frustrating. I’m sure you did all the right things.”
He squeezed my hand back, bringing it to his thigh so he could trace circles on the back of my hand with his thumb. “Logically, I know I did.”
“But you still feel responsible,” I supplied, nodding. “I think… maybe it’s okay to feel that way. Sometimes it just hurts.”
Cal gave me a gentle smile and lifted my fingers to kiss them. The sensation skittered down my arm and straight to my heart. “Sometimes it does,” he agreed softly.
“But somehow, you always seem to find the positives,” I pointed out ruefully. “I’m not sure I’m good at that yet.”
Cal inhaled slowly, still holding my hand on his thigh. “I didn’t always. My parents abandoned me when I was a teenager.”
I stared at him in silent shock. I’d known he had been adopted, but he hadn’t told me how or why. “They abandoned you?”
He nodded. “Dad was a trucker, and he’d be gone for weeks at a time at first. My memories of him are pretty spotty. Eventually, his absences got longer, and my mom withdrew from me the older I got. By the time I was thirteen, she started ducking out, too.”
My throat tightened as the horror of what Cal had endured took shape. I knew that feeling. I knew what it felt like to realize your own parents cared more about their own pain than your suffering. “Cal,” I whispered tightly.
“Eventually, she didn’t come back.” Cal let out a breath, glancing at me briefly. “You know how that feels, I’ve gathered.”
I nodded mutely.
“I did my best on my own at first.” I heard the bitterness in his voice, even now. “I ate eggs mostly, and bread if I could afford it with my job as an under-the-table dishwasher at a local pizza place. When I started high school, I had free meals at school, and I forged documents from my parents who weren’t there. Football was the only joy I had that first year on my own. I couldn’t let it go, so I hid my starvation under the guise of keeping fit.”
Tears clogged my throat, and I swallowed them down with some effort. “That’s horrible.”
Cal’s resignation was evident even in the muted light. “I made it work. But eventually, the lack of food and the absence of parental authorities became obvious. Namely, because I got behind on rent and utilities, and then when I did my best to make them up with my puny salary, I ran out of food. CPS got involved, and that’s when I met my parents.”
I couldn’t help but send up a silent prayer of thanks to the universe on Cal’s behalf. What would have happened if Terrence and Jayla hadn’t been the ones who had found him and loved him?
“At first, I didn’t feel worthy of it,” Cal went on, his voice low and soothing in the quiet interior of the car. “I mean, my own parents hadn’t thought I was worth sticking around for. Why should this perfect, loving, incredible couple care about me?”
I winced as his words echoed the poison I carried in my own heart. Cal gave me a knowing look like he understood what he was doing to me. “It’s hard to accept love if you feel unworthy of it.”
I scrunched one side of my face. “Point taken.”
“I worked harder than the other kids in my grade,” Cal added. “I studied harder, played harder, excelled faster. I nearly killed myself proving that I was worthy of their home and their love. It wasn’t until later that I realized their love wasn’t conditional. That necklace my mom wears?”
I nodded. “I remember it. A heart locket, right?”
“Yeah. I got that for her after I graduated high school and started my pre-med program. I got it after I failed my first test. It wasn’t until I had failed that I saw for myself that love isn’t earned. It just… is.”
A tear slipped from the corner of my eye, and I swiped it away. “You’re really lucky.”
He pulled into a parking spot in my apartment complex and put the car into park, before turning his attention to me. “I know what it feels like to think you’re unworthy of being loved. But Ruth, nothing could be further from the truth. You are extraordinary.”
Tears dammed up my voice, and I looked forward uncomfortably. “You don’t have to… Cal. I’m fine. ”
Cal gently guided my chin back to face him. “Stop pretending it doesn’t hurt.”
I gusted out a sound that was somewhere between a sob and a laugh. Forcing the tears back down, I said thickly, “Stop poking at it.”
“No,” he smiled faintly. “I think you’re beautiful. I’ve thought it since that moment I went to the bar to ream you out and realized there was no way I could go through with it. Not after I saw how intelligent and funny you were, how vulnerable and strong, and definitely,” he added with a leveling gaze, “worth every happiness in this life.” I tucked my lip between my teeth. His thumb tugged on my chin and popped it back out. “Stop hurting what’s mine.”
Desire and belonging mingled in a heady mix, swooping through me and stealing my breath. “Yours, huh?”
Cal leaned forward and kissed me softly. Rubbing his lips across mine with a teasing tickle, he whispered, “Sometimes it just hurts. But sometimes we can make it better, too.”
“What are you?” I whispered with a hint of incredulity.
“Whatever you need me to be, Shortstop.” He kissed me again, and that time I gave myself over to the warmth of it. I leaned into him, savoring the taste of him, the slide of his lips against mine, and the desire that pooled at my core.
When we pulled away reluctantly, a pang of sadness tightened in my chest. With my hand warm in Cal’s and the safety of his presence wrapped around me, I didn’t want to leave his car. But he had patients, and I would see him tomorrow. I tried to convince myself that was good enough. As I undid my seatbelt, I slipped my fingers from Cal’s hand and reached down to get my bag.
Cal turned to me, his eyes shadowed. “I can stay, Ruth. If you need me to, I can move some things around.”
I leaned against the door, facing him. Cal had on a set of black scrubs, which told me he had to have been in the middle of his hospital rounds when he’d come to get me. He was probably way behind schedule for that alone. I shook my head, smiling faintly. “I’m a big girl, Cal.”
“No, you’re tiny, and adorable, and injured, and it’s killing me to send you into that apartment alone,” he replied, his voice husky.
My smile widened, and I tamped down a laugh. “What if I promise not to take any baths or get drunk at bars? Does that help?”
He blanched. “Okay, but please don’t take a bath. For real. If you fall again and hit your head—”
“Cal,” I grinned outright, reaching across the space between us to take his face in my hands. His five o’clock shadow pricked at my palms, and I held his worried gaze. “I’m fine. And I’m,” I swallowed nervously, “I’m looking forward to tomorrow.”
He covered my hands with his, and his expression turned mischievous. “You mean our real date tomorrow?”
“Yeah, that,” I said, my voice cracking.
He chuckled, and turning to kiss the inside of my wrist, he lowered my hands. “Alright. Fair enough. Tomorrow, then. ”
“Tomorrow,” I agreed again. “Thank you for everything.”
“You deserve everything,” he reminded me. “Get some sleep.”
I popped the door handle and opened the door, carefully maneuvering myself out of the car so I didn’t put any sudden pressure on my knee. With another wave to Cal as he pulled away from the parking spot, I turned and pulled my phone from the pocket of my wide-leg pants. It had been a long Friday, but I couldn’t help but retain that silly smile that had pulled at my lips throughout the day.
I made my way slowly through the quiet grounds, passing under shadowed trees and past a walkway with lights that had gone out months ago. It made my building darker than the other ones, but with the moon full and bright overhead, I could see my way to my front door just fine.
As I fished through my backpack for my keys, movement in my peripheral vision sent a jolt of fear through me. I whipped my head to the left. A figure, swathed in shadows and hunched with hands in their pockets, passed between the two apartment buildings. My heart clenched in fear before tumbling into a panicked rhythm. Vaughn turned to face me, thirty feet in the distance, and features creased with fury.
I stiffened, gripped by fear so potent, it flash froze my limbs and coursed through me in a numbing wave. Vaughn stared at me, unmoving. Even when I forced myself to move, to launch into action and fumble in my bag for my keys again, he didn’t engage me. Shaking, I pulled my keys from my bag and felt for the right key. I had to look down to fit it just right, and my panic vaulted into a churning gallop in my chest as I struggled to get my key into the hole just right. It slipped in, and hurriedly, I looked up again.
Vaughn watched, brows drawn and body still.
Still shaking hard, I unlocked my door, swerved inside, and slammed the deadbolt into a locked position. I sucked in a breath, releasing it with a trembling sigh, only to pull in another thin, useless mouthful of oxygen that did nothing to abate the spinning in my head. I leaned my forehead against the door, willing my heart to calm down.
Safe. I was safe. Vaughn couldn’t hurt me… or wouldn’t. Would he?
With unsteady hands, I pulled my phone from my pocket again. The screen lit up, displaying a generic pine forest background and the time, 9:13 pm. I hovered my thumb over the screen, debating. I wanted to call Cal. I wanted him here where he would cocoon me in the safety of his presence. Cal had a way of doing that. His presence dispelled fears and insecurities, wrapping me in warmth and hope instead.
Be logical , I thought with another calming breath. He’s working. You’re not in danger. You’re safe in your house. The doors are locked, and you can call 911 if you’re really in danger. He’s busy. You’re safe. You’re safe.
I told myself that as I checked my windows and patio door, drawing all the blinds shut. I told myself as I brushed my teeth with a trembling hand and shut off all the lights in the house. I reminded myself after I had crawled into bed and stared blankly at the tiny bedroom stuffed with shadows and reeking of fear.
I told myself, but I didn’t believe it.