Chapter Twelve
Calypso
Leaning across the table, I look at the blueprints of Pippa’s studio laid out. Liam asked me to have lunch, hoping I could help him plan the best approach when it comes to renovating the studio.
He came in yesterday morning, like usual, but the subtle pink that colored his cheeks when he asked for my help gave away his nerves. He wasn’t hesitant or patronizing, just shy. Why is that so fucking cute? Especially on this big, sexy guy?
Lucky for him, I know Pippa and her schedule like the back of my hand. She has followed the same routine since before I started dance lessons at nine years old. She’s meticulous and there’s definitely a correct course of action here… I just haven’t figured it out yet.
Even though I’ve been in the studio thousands of times, looking at it as a blueprint is very different. I’m less familiar with the offices and storage areas. Those are less important in the grand scheme of practices.
My half-eaten burger and his empty plate—previously a buffalo chicken wrap—sit forgotten nearby while I sip on my third iced tea.
We’ve had lunch together every day since Daisy’s birthday, plus he’s still visiting every morning for a new coffee and pastry combination.
My entire family loves him now too, so we’ve had dinner with my brothers as well as with Grady and Vivi at Lucas’s house this week.
He hasn’t been invited to our Sunday family dinner yet, and I appreciate my family letting me make that decision for myself. It’s starting to fuck with my head a little, how perfectly Liam has integrated himself into my life within a matter of days.
It doesn’t even feel like we’re pretending to date. If I didn’t know better, I would believe we were in the early stages of a relationship, too.
“More tea?” the waitress stops by with a pitcher, pulling me from my straying thoughts.
I smile, feeling guilty for holding her table, and nod. The lunch rush is slowing down, so more tables will clear up soon.
“I almost think you should save most of the storage rooms and offices until the end,” I say.
He looks up at me, curious for my reasoning.
“Right now is the best time to start with the main stage,” I confirm his earlier thought. “It gives you the most time to make sure that’s perfect, and there aren’t any big performances until December. Anything Pippa has planned can be split between the two smaller studios.”
He nods. “That’s what I was thinking, but I wasn’t sure. God forbid there are any problems, but just in case, I want to make sure we’re never rushing the main stage.”
I look at the blueprints again and point at the concession area. “You should start these soon after. The kitchen is pretty outdated, and it’s an extra area she can use for the younger girls’ classes.”
His brows furrow in confusion before realization floods his face. He gently grabs my hand and pulls it a little to the right of where I was pointing. Electricity shoots through my wrist at the simple touch.
“That’s the concession area.”
I crinkle my nose. Mockery doesn’t drop from his tone, the way it did when I’d make a small mistake with Stefan, but anticipation instinctively lingers. “Oh.”
“That’s a good plan,” he reassures. “Depending on how old we’re talking, that space might take longer than I expected.”
Trying not to preen at his encouragement, we go over the rest of the plans. He makes notes for his team. There are dates and budgets listed but I don’t overstep.
“As long as the main stage and this one—” I point to the larger practice stage, “—aren’t under construction at the same time, it should be okay.”
He’s scribbling a few numbers down. “I need to call Stanley,” he murmurs to himself. Glancing up with a boyish grin, he adds, “I’ll do that later.”
I shake my head and slide to the end of the booth. “I’m going to run to the restroom, so go ahead.”
His eyes move down my body—though I’m just in a baggy tee and leggings today—and he looks over his shoulder, finding where the bathrooms are. “Okay, I’ll be here. It won’t take long.”
His gaze follows me until I close the door. Rather than being heated, per usual, it’s protective and warm.
Since he’s talking with Stanley, I don’t rush.
After I wash my hands, I take a moment to reapply my lip tint and rebraid my hair while I’m at it.
I have a few more orders to finish up once we’re done, so I can’t let it loose yet.
The waves that form after it’s been in French braids all day are my favorite, though.
As I’m tying the second one, the bathroom door pushes open. I glance up at the woman walking in before I do a double take. The door slams behind her as she stops in her tracks, the sound echoing through the small, silent room like a bourdon.
“Ruby,” I breathe out. It’s like approaching a wounded animal. “Hi. I’m Cal—”
She nods and offers me a meek smile. “Calypso, right. I remember you from the farmer’s market…” Her words trail off.
There’s no malice in her tone. Only a familiar type of exhaustion and defeat. She’s curious about me. The feeling is mutual.
“Your dress is pretty,” I say, a bit awkwardly.
She looks down and runs a hand over the pale yellow linen. “Thank you. It was a gift from Stefan’s mom.” Remembering that I’ve met her, she corrects herself, “From Martha.”
I unintentionally grimace at her name.
If there’s anyone I hate more than Stefan, it is the woman who raised him.
Ruby smiles with more sincerity than I’ve seen yet. “Martha is… quite a woman.” There’s no love in her tone.
“Martha is a bully,” I correct. “Possibly the woman who inspired the term ‘boy mom, derogatory.’”
She laughs; it’s quiet and melodic. It dies quickly and she admits, “I think she hates me.”
“Not as much as she hates herself,” I reassure.
Ruby folds her lips between her teeth, holding herself back from speaking. It slips out anyway. “You’re being really nice to me… Why?”
“You’re not my enemy, Ruby.”
“Even though I’m marrying Stefan?”
I bite back my first response, not wanting to tell her I pity her.
“Especially not because of that,” I say firmly.
Ruby lets out a deep, heavy breath. “I don’t want to be your enemy.”
Not even the harsh fluorescent lights can drown out her youthfulness—her dimpled, round cheeks that are perpetually pink from the sun but hidden under the spread of her freckles. My mind can’t separate this pretty, little redhead in front of me from the eighteen-year-old version of myself.
“How old are you?” I blurt out.
Glancing behind her, as if expecting Stefan to come storming in at any second, Ruby plays with the hem of her skirt. “Twenty-three.”
Two years younger than I would’ve guessed. I swallow down the bile fighting to come up. They’ve been engaged for a year; At least that’s when I found out about it.
How old was she when they met? Twenty? Younger?
I remember my twentieth birthday better than any other, despite the fact that I’ve tried everything to scrub it from my brain.
Alcohol, men, weed. Nothing has been strong enough to make me forget that specific morning.
We had gotten engaged a few months before, but something was just different when I looked in the mirror.
Instead of feeling older, I felt like the eight-year-old girl who just wanted her dad’s embrace but was not able to run to him.
Then at dinner, Vivi had her ex-boyfriend there. They were sixteen and I couldn’t understand it. I couldn’t imagine a world where I was attracted to Brody, or any of Vivi’s friends. Even calling him handsome felt wrong—gross.
It may have taken me a few years to gain the courage to let my own stubborn preconceived notions go and leave him, but that day, our marriage had ended before it even started.
Neither of us says anything, letting Ruby’s confession echo in the crater separating us. I’m three feet away from her and she feels out of reach, but I’d grab her and run if I could. Liam would understand—hell, he’d be more than happy to help, I think.
The sour realization that I can’t help her, unless she wants me to, swirls with the lingering nausea and creates a hurricane of emotions in my gut. Suddenly feeling sea sick on steady ground, I grab the counter for support.
“He—he won’t like me talking to you,” Ruby whispers, avoiding my eye contact. She’s picking at her nails, and I can see the scabs of where she’s dug too deep. Digging my nails into my palms and elbows was my MO, but I don’t want to cause her anxiety. Or pain.
“I should go anyway,” I say, pushing forward.
She takes a large step to the side, giving me a wide berth. “It was nice getting to talk with you, Calypso.”
I look back at her once but my eyes drag away just as quickly. My mind’s playing tricks on me, morphing Ruby into me.
“You too.” I throw open the door and leave the bathroom.
If Ruby is here, Stefan, and possibly his mother, are here too. The last thing I want is to make a scene in the middle of Bella Donna’s.
For one second, I can even admit to myself that unease claws at my bones when I contemplate seeing Stefan after his voicemail. It was the last time I’d heard from him, but I’m not foolish enough to think this is the end.
Stefan never liked sharing his toys; when I wasn’t a trophy or a burden, I was his emotional plaything. Hell will freeze over before I ever let my guard down around him, even for a second.
When I round the corner back to the dining area, Liam is already standing next to our table and placing some bills down in the receipt book.
I don’t bother looking around for my ex-husband, not when a much better sight is only feet away from me.
At his side, I rub his lower back affectionately. I’ve never been someone who is big into PDA, certainly not with Stefan. It also doesn’t bother me. It’s just not me.
These small touches are easier with Liam. More often than not, I find myself having to hold myself back from reaching for him. There’s less reason to do so when we’re in public, so I revel in the comfort right now.
“Are you ready?” he asks, keeping his eyes on me.
“Let’s go,” I say.
He nudges me to walk in front of him and he keeps a hand on my waist the entire way to the sidewalk. He opens the door to his 4Runner for me when I look back at the restaurant.
“What is it?” Liam asks with concern. “Did you forget something?”
I lightly shake my head. “I was going to leave our server some extra cash. I saw Ruby in the restroom, and I knew that meant Stefan was there too. I wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.”
He nods in understanding, maybe in confirmation that he saw Stefan, and doesn’t press about what happened in the bathroom.
“I left her a tip,” he promises, gently guiding me into the passenger seat but I stand firm.
“I know,” I say. I never doubted he would. “I feel bad for sitting at her table for so long.”
His lips tip up at the barest amount, only on the right side. The soft expression in his eyes screams, you’re so cute. Internally, I melt a little but cross my arms and dig my heels in.
“Yeah, that’s why I left her a hundred.”
My mouth drops open and I look back at him. “You left her one hundred dollars?”
“On top of what our bill was, yeah,” he says easily.
That’s probably what she makes on an average day here. I remember how one customer like Liam could turn my entire week around when I was a server.
“Okay then,” I say weakly. “Thanks.”
He chuckles and winks at me. “Get in, honey.”
Without a fight, I slide into the passenger seat and connect to his bluetooth. On the way back to Brighter Daze, we skip through a few different genres of music, still learning what the other likes. I bask in the growing familiarity of his presence, knowing I won’t see him again until tomorrow.
Suddenly, that feels far too long.