Chapter Nine #2
“I'm a lesbian,” she said finally. The words felt strange in her mouth, like speaking a language she'd learned but never practiced out loud. “I've known since I was a teenager.”
Ruby was quiet for a long moment. “Okay.”
“That's it? Just 'okay'?”
“What else should I say?”
“I don't know. Most people have questions. Or opinions. Or—” her voice cracked slightly. “Judgment.”
“I have questions. But 'okay' seemed like a good starting point. And I don't judge people for who they love, fellow lesbian or not.“
Ruby's expression was open, curious but not invasive. There was no disappointment there, just patient interest.
“I tried not to accept it when I was younger,” she continued, the words tumbling out now that she'd started. “Fought it through high school and told myself it was just a phase, or confusion, or I don't know, anything but the truth. But midway through college, I finally made peace with it.”
“And you were married and you have kids.”
“It's easier to have kids with your best friend when you love each other, just not romantically, and you both want to build a family together.” Celeste's voice had gone soft, remembering those early conversations with Braden and the plans they'd made.
“Braden and I—we gave ourselves a chance at forever, even if it was platonic. The twins were conceived through IVF. We planned every detail and it worked, for a while.”
“Have you ever dated women?”
“A few. In college. Nothing that lasted long enough to be significant.”
Ruby made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a gasp. “So you've essentially been celibate for, what, over a decade?”
Heat flooded Celeste's face at the blunt question and she nodded, unable to look at Ruby.
“You poor thing.”
The silence that followed was heavy. Celeste could feel Ruby watching her and sensed the unspoken questions hovering in the air.
“Why?” Ruby asked finally, her voice gentle. “Why did you choose to live like that?”
The question struck hard and Celeste felt her defenses slam into place, her shoulders stiffening.
“My life decisions have served me well,” she said, the words coming out clipped. “My kids have a father who's present and loves them. I was happy with Braden until he fell in love with Jackson. I have a successful career, a good relationship with my family. I don't regret a single thing.”
“I didn't say you should regret anything.”
“Then why ask?”
“Because—” Ruby paused, clearly choosing her words deliberately. “Because denying who you are for that long... that must've been lonely.”
She blinked hard against the sudden sting in her eyes.
“Since we’re digging into our most well-kept secrets – what about you?” she asked, desperate to shift the focus. “What’s the real reason you’ve been so cagey about your art and this agent?”
Ruby was quiet. When Celeste glanced over, she was staring out the window, jaw tight.
“It's not really anyone's business,” she said.
“Fair enough.”
“But” Ruby sighed, turning to face Celeste again. “A lot has happened since I left Cheyenne Valley. A lot I'm not proud of.”
Celeste waited, giving her space.
“I was so cocky in high school,” Ruby continued. “Felt like the world was at my feet, you know? Everything came so easily and I never had to work hard or to struggle. I thought that meant I was special. Destined for greatness.”
She laughed, but it was hollow.
“Then I went to college and—” Ruby's voice cracked slightly. “I had a complete mental health crisis. Everything that had come easily before suddenly didn't. I was surrounded by people just as smart as me, just as talented. And I didn't know how to handle not being the best anymore.”
“Ruby…”
“I pushed myself too hard, stopped sleeping and eating properly. Began having panic attacks in the middle of classes. Eventually I ended up in the hospital due to dehydration and exhaustion. They kept me for three days.” Her hands twisted in her lap.
“My mother was terrified and my brother dropped everything to come stay with me. And I just felt like such a failure.”
Celeste's chest ached. She wanted to reach over, to take Ruby's hand and offer some kind of comfort. But she kept her grip on the wheel.
“That's when I learned about limitations. About being human instead of superhuman and the fact that talent isn't enough. You need resilience and coping mechanisms, specifically the ability to fail without falling apart.”
“That sounds like wisdom, not failure.”
“Maybe.” Ruby’s smile was sad. “But it also broke something in me and made me afraid to try.
Now I keep my best work hidden because showing it means risking that kind of failure again.
Nora—my agent—she doesn't understand that.
She thinks I'm lazy or scared or wasting my potential.
And maybe I am. But at least this way, I'm safe.”
“That sounds like you're punishing yourself.”
“Maybe.” Ruby turned to look at her. “But at least I'm still functioning and creating, even if I'm not sharing the best ones. That's more than I could say a few years ago.”
They drove in silence for a while, the landscape rolling past in shades of green and brown. Celeste felt the weight of Ruby's confession settling over her, understanding it in a way she hadn't expected.
They were both hiding, she realized. Just in different ways.
“For what it's worth,” Celeste said, “the pieces you showed me were extraordinary. If that's your mediocre work, I can't imagine what your best looks like.”
Ruby's smile was more genuine this time. “You're just saying that because I bought you a necklace.”
“I'm saying it because it's true.”
“Well. Thank you.”
They fell into easier conversation after that, the tension easing.
Ruby told a story about the time she'd accidentally dyed her hair green in college, thinking she was using blonde toner. Celeste countered with her experience as a new intern when she’d mixed up her files and presented the wrong case in court, to opposing counsel's delight and her supervising partner's horror.
Ruby laughed at this. “Please tell me you didn't lose the case.”
“Oh, I lost spectacularly. Had to buy the whole office coffee for a month as penance.”
“I would've paid to see that. You with egg on your face.”
“It was humbling,” Celeste admitted. “And my ego narrowly survived.”
“Your ego seems pretty intact to me.”
“That's because you don't see me at work. Ask any of my opposing counsels. They'll tell you I'm ruthless.”
“Ruthless Celeste Russo,” Ruby mused. “Has a nice ring to it.”
“Better than 'disaster Celeste,' which is what my family called me after the twins were born and I couldn't remember where I'd parked at the grocery store. Three times in one week.”
Ruby laughed, the sound filling the car. “That's actually adorable.”
“It was exhausting. Braden had to start driving me everywhere.”
“Ah yes. The supportive platonic husband.”
“The best kind,” Celeste said, and meant it.
They traded more stories—Ruby's disastrous attempt at learning to cook lasagna, which ended with the fire department coming over and Celeste's equally disastrous attempt at yoga. The miles disappeared beneath them, the conversation flowing easily now that they'd both shared something real.
Then Ruby suddenly sat up straight. “Stop the car.”
“What?”
“Please. Right now.”
Celeste pulled over, confused and slightly alarmed. Ruby was already unbuckling her seatbelt, scrambling out before the car had fully stopped. Celeste watched through the rearview mirror as Ruby ran back along the shoulder, then crouched down, her hands cupping something.
A few moments later, she rushed back to the car, cradling something small and brown against her chest.
“It's hurt,” Ruby said breathlessly as she slid into the passenger seat. “A sparrow. Its wing looks broken. We need to find a vet, so where’s the nearest town?”
Celeste pulled out her phone, already knowing this was going to derail their schedule completely.
“Twenty miles,” she said. “But if we make another detour, we definitely won't make the festival in time.”
Ruby looked at her, those blue eyes wide and pleading. She held up the bird, a small sparrow, trembling in her palms. Its wing hung at an unnatural angle, and even from where she sat, Celeste could see it was badly hurt.
“Pretty please?”