Chapter Fourteen #2
I grab my coffee and shuffle toward the table.
“Well, technically, we started texting a few days ago. Since the meet-and-greet.” Mom watches me as I lower myself back into the seat across from her.
“But yes, he texted me during the second intermission and asked how we were enjoying the game.” I purse my lips to ward off a smile.
Then remember he never texted back last night.
“So, what does this mean?” Mom asks. “The two of you texting back and forth?”
I lift one shoulder before taking a slow sip of my coffee, trying to buy myself some time to come up with a response. What does it mean that Dash and I are texting?
Silence stretches as Mom waits for my reply.
“I…guess it means that we, sort of…like each other.”
A rush of air leaves me like I just admitted something salacious. How dumb do I sound? I’m a grown woman who can barely verbalize her own feelings to her mother.
“Wow, Ruby.” Mom grins. “That’s exciting.”
“Is it?” A breathy sort of laugh expels from my chest. “Because it feels a little…terrifying.”
Mom’s warm hand immediately covers mine. “Honey, all new relationships can be scary. And it probably doesn’t help that Dash is somewhat famous. I’m assuming that aspect frightens you a bit?”
“Just a bit,” I say, chuckling.
“That’s normal.” Mom pats my hand. “To date someone under a microscope means that you will likely be under that same level of scrutiny.”
“It’s not that,” I’m quick to say. “It’s more that I don’t feel worthy of his attention, Mom. I’m just…me. And he’s—”
“A very handsome hockey player.” Her eyebrows lift slightly.
“Exactly.”
Mom releases a long breath, eyeing me with all the love and compassion I’m used to seeing from her.
“Ruby, don’t sell yourself short. You have a lot to offer.
You’re beautiful, of course, but you’re also a wonderful person to know.
You’re kind and sacrificial. Loving. Generous.
Something you have in common with Dash.”
I smile. “He is generous.”
“If everything Beck says about him is true, then he’s an impressive young man. I understand why you’d be intimidated.”
I nod, staring down at my coffee, wishing the answers to everything lay hidden in the dark brew.
“Tell me about how the meet-and-greet went.” Mom takes a sip of her coffee, eyes shining like she can’t wait for me to gush with the details.
“It actually started before the meet-and-greet.”
Mom eyes widen.
Before she can say anything else, I tell her about Dash coming into the salon, not sparing any of the embarrassing details. She just shakes her head at me when I explain why I wasn’t able to reveal to him that we were the ticket holders.
“I get you being nervous,” she says. “And you’re right, you’d let the charade go on too long. It would’ve been awkward.”
“See?” I let my hands slap the tabletop. “Anyway, he was so kind at the meet-and-greet. He could’ve been rude or even upset that I never contacted him, yet he was the complete opposite.” I take a quick sip of my coffee. “I texted him and apologized the next day.”
“And the rest is history?”
“I guess.” My smile is automatic. “He says he wants to prove to me that he’s not sending me mixed signals.”
Mom gives me a slow, thoughtful nod. “And are you going to let him?”
“I want to. He makes me feel—" Excited. Scared. Alive for the first time in a long while. “He makes me feel seen and wanted. I’m just nervous about where all this will lead. He lives in Utah, Mom.” I swallow the lump in my throat.
“Hm.” Mom purses her lips to one side, tapping the side of her coffee mug with newly painted fingernails. Did she do them herself? “Are you attracted to him?”
“Definitely.” I say, thinking of the thrill I get from watching him work magic on the ice.
“But I’m also…intimidated by his attention.
He’s pretty forward. Not in a creepy way, but in a…
knows what he wants kind of way.” My mind goes back to last night when I accused him of being hard to read.
That wasn’t exactly the truth, but some of his actions do confuse me.
He said he wouldn’t ask me out again, then started texting me mid-game.
“That’s not a bad thing, Ruby. Especially when it comes to you.”
I take another sip of coffee. “I know. I’m not exactly Miss Personality Plus.”
“Ruby,” Mom chides, reaching across the table to stroke my arm.
“You are every bit of Miss Personality Plus. You just reserve most of it for those of us who know you best. Most of the guys you’ve dated—” I cut her off with a scoffing laugh.
“Well. Okay, let me rephrase. The few guys you have dated were almost as shy and introverted as you. They were nice but…” Mom winces.
“Not quite right for you, I don’t think. ”
“You think I need someone more outgoing?”
She tilts her head, pulling her hand back to curl it around her mug. “I think it’ll take someone more persistent to really pull you out of your shell. Being outgoing is great and all, but honey, you need someone willing to put in the work.”
“You make it sound like I’m high maintenance.”
She shakes her head. “Not high maintenance, just harder to get to know than your average girl. But that’s okay. Your dad was like that.” Her smile grows and wistfulness enters her eyes. “If I hadn’t kept asking him to come to different things in college, we never would’ve started dating.”
“Really?”
“Oh, honey.” She waves a hand through the air. “That man was locked tighter than a safe. I could tell he liked me, and yet it took me insisting he come to various events my friends were putting on for him to finally ask me to go steady.”
I can’t help but smile thinking of Dad. He was quieter and more reserved than Mom, but around us, he was a big teddy bear. Loud and funny, always joking around with us. I never even considered that social situations might have been hard for him.
My gaze falls to Mom’s wedding ring. “I miss him,” I say, the hollow ache not quite as bad as it used to be.
“I do too, Ruby. I do too.”
Thinking of Mom and Dad’s relationship brings another question to mind. And since we’ve been so candid about our feelings this morning, maybe I’ll get a straight answer out of her for once. “How’s Mr. Groves doing? He came over again last night, didn’t he?”
Mom’s half-drank cup of coffee is suddenly the most interesting thing in the room. “He did,” she says before taking a long sip. “He sat with me and helped me paint my nails.”
My jaw flaps open. “He helped you paint your nails?”
Mom blinks innocently. “What? He was just trying to be nice.”
“The heck he was!”
“Ruby!” Mom shushes me. “Be quiet or you’ll wake Beckett.”
“Painting a woman’s nails is something a man only does when he’s in love with her,” I say, very pointedly staring at Mom’s new manicure.
“Mr. Groves is not in love with me.”
“Come on, Mom. If you want me to be honest with you, I think the least you can do is be honest with me in return.”
Mom rolls her lips together, seeming to think it over. “He’s showing a romantic interest in me, yes. But love is a very tricky thing when one is grieving, Ruby.” A little divot forms in between her brows. “I’m not sure Mr. Groves is over the loss of his wife yet. He talks about her quite a lot.”
Sadness pulses behind my ribs. “I’m sorry, Mom.”
“Oh, honey, it’s fine. I am still wearing my wedding ring, you know? Ten years later, and I can’t seem to find the will to remove it.” She twists the ring with her thumb. “I suppose it would seem as if I’m still grieving, too.”
As true as that is, I could see Mom falling in love with Mr. Groves. He’s kind and funny and has a good relationship with his grown son. There are no red flags that I can see. Plus, the man is handy to have around.
“Well, I hope he finds the courage to tell you,” I say, earning a blank stare from her.
“Tell me…?”
“How he really feels.”
Mom’s throat ripples on a swallow before she clasps my hand in hers. “And I hope that you find the courage to accept that you’re more than worthy for a good man like Dash.”
My chest constricts with something unfamiliar. Anticipation? Excitement? Longing? Whatever it is, I can’t shake it, even after getting ready and heading into work.