Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ruby
“I don’t know what to wear,” I tell Alayna, plopping down onto the end of my bed and staring into my closet. I wish I’d invested in a new summer wardrobe. But how was I to know I’d meet the man of my dreams and his family?
“Wear something conservative.” Alayna pulls out a long, flowy skirt. “Can’t show too much leg or they’ll think you’re a floozy.”
“A floozy?” I blink at my friend, who rolls her eyes.
“Oh, you know what I mean. Keep it classy. You’re trying to win over his mom, remember?”
I honestly wish I could forget.
Dash gave me Danessa’s number last night and told me to text her if I was interested in going out for that girls’ day.
Well, to my surprise, she texted back immediately and asked if I could meet them tomorrow.
Which is today. Giving me exactly ten hours to decide how to present myself for a day spent with the most important people in my boyfriend’s life.
Has Dash given me permission to call him my boyfriend? No.
But am I going to keep referring to him as that until he leaves? Yes.
Dash fits perfectly into all of my girlish fantasies. He’s a hotshot hockey player with more talent in his tiniest toe than I carry throughout my entire body. He’s ridiculously handsome and knows it…but he’s also gentle. And kind. And really sweet to pre-teen boys who idolize him.
But he’s also temporary. Leaving in a matter of days. A fact I must constantly remind myself of. Because if I’m honest, I want to keep him. Like…forever. It hurts to think that in one measly week I’ll have to say goodbye to him.
“Earth to Ruby,” Al says, waving a hand in front of my face. “We’re trying on clothes for your girls’ day, or did you forget?”
“I didn’t forget.” I huff and drop back until I’m lying flat on the bed. “I’m just…dreading it.”
“Aw, don’t do that.” Al scooches in beside me, shoving my hips out of the way. “Don’t set yourself up for failure before you’ve even started. I know you said they were a little much when you first met them, but you may end up really liking these women.”
“I wasn’t talking about dreading the girls’ day.” I angle my head to the side, staring up at my friend. “I’m dreading having to say goodbye to him.”
Alayna frowns. “I’m kind of dreading that day, too.”
“You are?”
She nods. “Dash has been good for you, Ruby. Like…really good.”
I hate that tears sting behind my eyes.
“He’s managed to do something I thought no one was capable of,” she continues, “and that’s bring you out of your self-constructed shell. I don’t want you to retreat once he leaves.”
I sit up and take Alayna’s hand in mine. “I’m sorry for how absent I’ve been.”
“I forgive you, Ruby,” she says without a hint of hesitation.
“And I promise not to retreat after Dash leaves. I think you’re right. This whole experience with him has been good for me. Even if he leaves and my heart breaks a little from having to watch him walk out of my life, I will be happy knowing that I didn’t hold back, that I let him see the real me.”
She nods, a stray tear trailing down her cheek.
“Hey, you’re not supposed to cry! That’s for me to do.”
She swipes at her cheek, laughing. “I’m sorry. I’m just so proud of you for putting yourself out there. For being so strong—strong enough to take care of your mom and Beck, run your business, and keep being my best friend.”
“I haven’t always succeeded at that.”
“You’ve done better than you think,” she assures me.
“Thanks, Al.” I pull my friend into a hug and squeeze her tight. When I sit back, she clears her throat.
“All right, enough blubbering. We’ve got to get you dressed.”
I check the time on my phone. “Yeah. I’ve only got thirty-ish minutes before I have to leave.”
“Well.” Alayna claps her hands together and hops to her feet. “Best make the time count, then.”
***
I step into yet another restaurant I’ve never heard of, straightening my butter-yellow sundress I bought for last Easter as I go. Alayna convinced me to wear it, though it shows a bit too much thigh, according to her. I disagree, loving the way it hits just a few inches above my knees.
My strappy platform heels clink across the tiles as I head straight to the hostess’s station. “Hi, there. I’m supposed to be meeting some people?”
“Name, please.” The woman barely looks up from her book.
“DiFranco?”
“Right this way,” the hostess says with a smile. My nerves skyrocket as I follow the young woman.
Will Dash’s family think I’m overdressed? Or that I’m underdressed? What if by girls’ day they meant something sporty I hadn’t considered, and I’m in the wrong outfit entirely?
Before I can question myself further, a table full of DiFranco women comes into view. It feels like every person at the table’s attention locks on me as soon as we near the table.
“Here you are,” the hostess says. “Enjoy.”
I’m left standing at the edge of the table, wishing the woman back, when Dash’s mom stands. “Ruby, it’s so good to have you join us.” She grabs both of my hands. “You look absolutely lovely.”
“Oh, um. Thank you.” I’m not used to compliments. Especially compliments from hot hockey players’ moms.
“We saved you a seat,” one of Dash’s sisters says, pulling the chair out next to her.
“Thank you,” I say again, wishing I could remember her name. So many D names…I take the seat she offers, scooting myself up to the table.
“Love the dress,” another sister notes. “Yellow looks great with your skin tone.”
I say thank you for the third time like a schmuck who doesn’t know any other words.
“We were just about to order,” Mrs. DiFranco says. “Hope you’ve brought your appetite.”
I did not. My abundance of nerves saw to that.
“Have you been here before?” the sister next to me asks.
“Ah, no. But it looked good online.”
She nods. “That’s why we chose it. I’m Danessa, by the way.”
“Right.” I smile. “You’re the one I texted.”
She grins, clearly pleased. “Dash’s oldest sister. I’m sort of the designated planner of the group.”
“I’m an oldest sister, too, so I get it.” I flip open my menu, instantly delighted with the list of available brunch options. Maybe my appetite might make an appearance after all.
“It’s a tough job, but someone has to do it.” Danessa chuckles. “Why don’t we go around the table and restate our names so Ruby will know how to address us.” She swivels toward me. “I know it’s a lot to remember.”
“Good idea.” Dash’s mom places a hand over her heart. “I’m Donna DiFranco, and please, call me Donna.”
“All right. Good to meet you again, Donna.”
“And this is Danae.” She gestures to the girl across from her. This sister has long and straight dark hair that disappears behind her chair. Her olive skin glows and her dark eyes appear thoughtful behind her leopard-framed glasses.
“Hi again, Danae.” I incline my head toward her, and she smiles.
“I’m Danica,” the one who complimented my dress says with a wave. “Dash’s favorite sister.”
Danae scoffs. “Keep telling yourself that.”
If I had to guess, those two sisters are closest in age, but they look as different as two sisters could, minus their matching hair color and skin tones.
Where Danae’s all tall willowy beauty, Danica is curvy and petite.
Her big, bouncy curls cascade over her shoulders like she just had a professional blowout.
She’s got beautiful hair, like the rest of them, but hers has the most body.
Maybe I’m weird for noticing such a thing, but hey, it’s my profession. I love hair.
Her wide grin shows off a slightly crooked front tooth. “It’s true, Dash said so himself. Anyway,” she says, directing her attention back to me, “it’s nice to see you again, Ruby.”
Danae doesn’t respond this time, merely shakes her head.
“I’m Davina,” the one next to Danica says. “Second to the oldest. And I realize how hard it’s going to be for you to remember our names, so my best advice is to just say, ‘Hey, D.’ when trying to get our attention.”
A nervous laugh leaves me in a rush. “Thanks, that is good advice.”
“Mom cursed us with the names,” Davina adds.
“Hey!” Donna sounds genuinely offended. “Your dad and I debated for hours over those names. How dare you call them a curse.”
“Okay, but couldn’t I have just been Vanessa?” Dash’s oldest sister whines. “Seriously, everyone already thinks that’s my name anyway.”
“But Vanessa doesn’t start with a D!”
The sisters all groan at their mom, making me chuckle. Their dynamic is entertaining, if not a little intimidating. I only have Beck to interact with. I can’t imagine having so many sisters.
“We confuse a lot of people,” Davina says. “Par for the course as a DiFranco woman.”
“Remember when we used to play tricks on the boys in high school?” Danica leans forward as if imparting a secret. “That was so much fun. They’d think they were getting one sister, then another showed up.”
“That wasn’t funny,” Danae murmurs under her breath.
“Is everyone ready to order?” A waiter appears, pen in hand.
And I’ve barely looked at the menu.
Dash’s mom starts first, then they go around the table, giving me enough time to choose something simple—an egg scramble with French toast on the side.
“We’re part French, you know,” Donna says, noting my choice of food. “My mother was originally from Nantes. Dad met her in the service.”
“Oh, really?”
She gives one, decisive nod. “She was a nurse.”
“I bet that’s a fun story.”
“I’ll tell you all about it during breakfast.”
And she does, in great detail. Every once in a while, one of Dash’s sisters will chime in when they think she gets a detail wrong, adding another layer of entertainment.
I love hearing such sentimental tales, and love even more that it seems special to each one of them.
Because of course it is; it’s their grandparents’ love story.
“So that’s where my love for nursing came from,” Donna says. “But I worked in the maternity ward with the babies.”
“Aw, how long ago was that?”
Her smile turns wistful. “I retired seven years ago now. I’m sixty-two.”
Amazed, I let out a tiny gasp. “Wow, you look so young.” As soon as the words leave me, I want to rip them back. But Donna laughs it off.