Chapter 23 RIP, Lip Smackers #2
I look down at the well-worn page in my hand, which is starting to look less like a game and more like a map.
Not only a way to get the life I wished for in the first place, but a way to get myself back, too.
No matter what happens with my career, or with Penn, I want to find the version of myself that feels true.
And be more than beige. Because now that I’ve lived in color—as in, all the colors, everywhere, all at once—I can’t go back.
I fold up the game and nudge Bridget. “Speaking of being single, I think you should give Hot Librarian a chance.”
She faces me, already blushing. “What?”
I smile, feeling the first tiny ember of hope spark inside my chest. Now that I’ve told her the truth, I feel a little less alone. And it feels good, getting to right this wrong.
“Forget my dumb ‘rule’ about not dating coworkers,” I say. “You should go for it.”
“This, coming from the person whose life just got totally upended because you were living with your coworker?”
I wave a hand. “Connor and I didn’t work out, but it wasn’t a mistake. He was right for me until he wasn’t, and that’s okay. You don’t know unless you try, right?”
She gawks at me, gobsmacked.
“Just trust me,” I tell her. “Give Ethan and his rip-away pants a shot.”
Bridget bites at her lip, unmistakably excited, and I take a long, deep breath, feeling more relaxed than I have all day. It’s time to take my own advice and go for it.
At the very least, I’ll make MASH Ruby proud.
—
On Tuesday morning, I comb through racks of blazers, button-ups, pencil skirts, and trousers: black, navy, white. The full spectrum of gray. I plan to shop for some color, but for now, a funeral-ready black dress feels quite fitting. After all, the old me is dead.
The new me comes alive when I leave the apartment, because, God, I missed the city.
Chicago is loud: the people, the cars, and all the taxi horns that echo among tall buildings and mirrored skyscrapers.
Hurried walkers hustle in both directions, their shoes clacking along the sidewalk.
Busy-looking people bark into their phones.
Every few blocks, there’s the clatter of construction drills, and the commotion grows especially loud when I pass beneath another set of tracks, the L train thundering overhead.
I find the clamor soothing. It sounds like the crackling joy of a city that’s forced to spend months in quiet hibernation before it gets a chance to feel the sun.
Not too different from how I feel this morning.
I strut into my office just before eight, and Connor’s waiting for me. When I finally replied to his texts, I told him we needed to talk through the lease and logistics today, and he looks ready for official discussions. Sharp and handsome, as always.
In the game, I was shocked by how many people aligned between worlds: Connor, Bridget, Penn. I shouldn’t have been so surprised, though. They’ve always known themselves and been true to themselves. I’m ready to do the same.
Connor fidgets with the buttons on his blazer. “You look great,” he says, ever the gentleman as he hands me my favorite latte.
“Thanks,” I say, more for the coffee than for the compliment.
His laugh turns into a warm, sentimental sigh. “I know it sounds silly, and it’s only been a couple nights, but…I’ve missed you, Ruby. So much.”
I bristle. Perhaps this isn’t the talk I’ve been expecting. Connor steps closer, a fond look in his eye, and warning bells go off in my skull.
MAYDAY. ABORT.
With an awkward laugh, I move around my desk, taking a seat in my black leather chair.
For once, I wish I had papers or pens or maybe even a Lisa Frank folder on my desk so that I could have something to tinker with—to pull my focus—but the desk is bare.
Nothing’s on it. Not even a picture frame.
I’ve always said I prefer a clear desk for a clear mind, but I’m starting to think I mistook emptiness for clarity.
Connor sits opposite me, his hand scrubbing at his mouth. “I’m so sorry,” he says. “I never should’ve brought up New York on your birthday. I should’ve told you sooner. They wanted a quick answer, but that’s no excuse.”
I nod and sip my latte. He does get a point or two for supplying a beverage.
“And you were right that night,” he adds. “Do you remember what you said? You said what we have here is good. Better than whatever roller coaster of a future some slime bag in a suit has promised.” He stares off dreamily, as if in awe. Like my rage-fueled soliloquy was delivered by the Dalai Lama.
“About that. I actually—”
He cuts me off, grinning. “I’m not taking the job, Ruby. I’m staying here. With you.”
Icy heat pricks across my neck.
“You were right,” he explains. “We have a plan, and we should stick to it. I don’t want to figure out a new city at this stage of my life.
And I hate roller coasters.” He laughs, and then his expression turns serious, sending my stomach into a free fall.
“I want to hold on to us, Ruby. You and me, we fit, and—”
“No.” I say it quietly, then louder. “No, Connor.”
His head jerks back. “What?”
“Take the job,” I tell him.
He brightens. “You want to go to New York, too?”
I shake my head. “No, but you should. It’s like you said. We really have been stuck on a hamster wheel, and I do have bigger dreams for myself. So do you.”
Connor shifts in his seat, adjusting his blazer. “Where is this coming from? You asked me to stay. To be with you. This is what you wanted, too. Our life, and all our plans. We could get a dog!”
It’s everything I thought I wanted.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “It’s not what I want anymore.
And this,” I add, reaching into my purse, “is my resignation letter. I don’t want the job in New York, and I don’t want this one, either.
” I round the desk and lean against it, reaching for Connor’s hands.
“Screw the plans. Take the chance, or you’ll regret it.
Trust me. You don’t know what could be waiting for you if you don’t take the leap. ”
Connor stares up at me, confused. “Is this because you hit your head? Maybe you aren’t thinking straight. Penn told me it was a hard fall.”
A kick drum in my chest. “When did you talk to Penn?”
“You were already asleep,” he explains. “But I was lying there in my sister’s house, thinking about what you said, and I decided you were right.
I should stay.” He meets my eyes with a strange, resigned look.
“Somehow, though, in less than forty-eight hours, it seems you’ve managed to change your mind entirely. Why?”
“I’m not sure I can explain it.”
He flashes me a small, sad smile. “I didn’t think you had this in you, Ruby.”
That makes me laugh. “Neither did I.”
Connor fiddles with his gold watch, the one with the inscription, and I feel a swell of gratitude for the time we’ve had together. For getting to grow up and grow into myself alongside him and getting to watch him do the same. It’s a different kind of love. A deep respect.
My curiosity gets the better of me. “What else did Penn say?”
“What?”
“That night. When you called. What did he say?”
Connor lets out a long, telling exhale. Pressing his lips together, he shrugs. “He told me I was too late.”
I nod, biting back another smile. Because it’s true. Connor is too late.
But maybe I’m not.
Messages I Want to Send to Penn (but Can’t Because He Wouldn’t Understand)
A picture of a clarinet. Thinking of you. Is this one sexy?
The megaphone emoji, followed by: FREE LAP DANCE. COME AND GET YOUR FREE LAP DANCE.
A racy selfie. Dress code: underclothes.
Potential band name: Slippery Guacamole.
Will you come clean my ceiling fans? (Not a euphemism.) (Unless you want it to be.)
A picture of a beanbag chair. Wish you were here.
Hi. I miss you. Would even go to Costco for you.