Chapter One Hundred Forty-One
Xavier
The rhythm of the shop is back. Compressors hum outside while Travis argues with Lewis over measurements. Dad stands behind them, arms crossed while shaking his head. But the tension is gone with Ruby’s return.
I'm halfway through checking a shipment when I notice she’s gone quiet. She’s sitting at the desk, one hand pressed against her stomach.
I set the clipboard down. “Hey.” She looks up. “You, okay?”
“Yeah.” Too quick. She swallows hard. “I’m fine.” No, she isn’t. She pushes back from the desk. “I need a minute.”
She stands and goes pale. I cross the room before she can argue, grasping her upper arm. “You gonna let me help?”
“I’m fine.”
“You were going to hit the floor.”
A weak glare. Better.
She lets me guide her toward the bathroom. The door barely shuts before she’s leaning over the sink. I pull her hair back, rubbing slow circles across her back until it passes.
When she straightens, I hand her a damp paper towel. “Sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize.”
She leans against the counter with a sigh. “I thought if I ignored it, it’d stop.”
“That working?”
Another tired glare.
“Just so you know. I tried that with the phones, and it didn’t work there either.” I kick the toilet lid down and tip my head toward it. “Sit.”
She rolls her eyes at my attempt at levity. “I can stand.”
“You almost proved otherwise.”
She sighs dramatically but sits.
“I’ll be right back.” It’s the women’s restroom, so that she can sit there all day, and no one will bother her.
“You don’t have to–“
“I know.”
She studies me. “Okay.”
*****
Fifteen minutes later I walk back in carrying a grocery bag. By this point, she’s managed to make it from the bathroom back to behind her desk. I consider that progress.
She blinks as she crosses her legs. “You left work?”
“I hear pregnant women occasionally need food.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to. It’s common sense.” I drop the bag on her desk amongst the paperwork that she’s not yet managed to make it through. It’s smaller than it was when she walked in this morning. Decidedly smaller.
I pull out crackers, ginger ale, peppermint tea, and nausea candies. “The pharmacist had opinions.” That earns me a small laugh. “Small sips,” I say, handing her the ginger ale.
She rolls her eyes but obeys. Progress.
After a few minutes, some color returns to her face. “You left for crackers?”
“You say that like it wasn’t important. Everything about you is important”
Her smile fades as she glances down at her hands. “I didn’t want to make it a thing.”
“It already is a thing. You’re pregnant. With my baby. It’s a thing no matter whether you give me another chance or not.”
She looks up. “I don't hate that you’re taking care of me.”
“Good, because I have no intentions of stopping.”
A beat passes before she speaks again. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For stepping in when I needed you.”
I step closer, bending down in front of her and resting my hand on her knee. “There’s no version of this where I leave you alone sick in a bathroom, Ruby.”
Her fingers wrap around my wrist. “You make this difficult.”
“I’m pretty sure you started it.”
A small smile appears. “There’s the ego.”
“There’s the attitude.”
Outside, someone drops a stack of lumber. Neither of us looks away.
For the first time in weeks... Being close to her doesn’t feel like it’s the end. It feels like we’re finding our way back.