Chapter Sixteen
Ruby
The glassblowing demonstration was mesmerizing in a way that made Ruby forget to breathe. The artist—a woman in her forties with forearms covered in old burns—worked molten glass like it was clay, shaping and twisting until a formless blob became a swan, delicate and perfect.
“How does she make it look so easy?” Celeste murmured beside her.
“Years of practice. And probably a lot of failures along the way.” Ruby watched the woman dip her blowpipe back into the furnace, the heat shimmering in the air. “That's what people don't see, the thousand attempts that came before the one that worked.”
“Is that what stopped you? Fear of the attempts that might not work?”
Ruby felt the words land too close to the truth. “Maybe. Or maybe I just got tired of trying.”
They watched in silence as the artist finished the piece, setting it aside to cool. The crowd applauded, and Ruby joined in mechanically, but the conversation had left her feeling exposed.
“Come on,” Celeste said. “Let's find something to eat. I'm starving.”
Ruby was grateful for the escape. They discovered a food truck serving jambalaya so good Ruby actually moaned on the first bite. Celeste laughed at her but then tried it herself and made the exact same sound.
“Okay, you win. This is incredible.”
“Right? This is what I'm talking about. You can't schedule discoveries like this.”
“You absolutely could if you researched food trucks in advance.”
“But where's the fun in that?”
Celeste opened her mouth to argue, then stopped, a smile tugging at her lips. “You know what? You're right. This is better.”
“Did Celeste Russo just admit I was right about something?”
“Don't let it go to your head.”
“Too late. I'm going to bring this up constantly. Remember that time when you said I was right—”
Celeste kissed her, effectively shutting her up. When she pulled back, her eyes were sparkling. “There. Problem solved.”
“I'm going to be right about things way more often now.”
They spent the rest of the afternoon wandering, and Ruby tried to memorize every detail.
The sound of Celeste’s laugh when a street performer made balloon animals and created something that looked more like an alien than a dog.
The way she leaned into Ruby when they stopped to watch a group of kids painting a mural, their small hands creating something chaotic and beautiful.
Ruby knew this was temporary and it had to end. But God, she wanted to hold onto it forever.
As evening fell, they found themselves in front of a small outdoor stage where a blues musician was setting up. The man was probably in his sixties, with silver hair and hands that looked like they'd been playing guitar since before Ruby was born.
“Stay for this?” Ruby asked.
“Definitely.”
They found a spot in the growing crowd, and when the music started, it was like nothing Ruby had ever heard. The harmonica sounded like it was crying, the guitar like it was telling secrets. The musician's voice was rough and weathered, singing about love and loss and the spaces in between.
Celeste leaned against Ruby's shoulder, and Ruby wrapped an arm around her, holding her close. They stayed like that through three songs, both content to just listen as the sky grew into a deeper shade of blue.
Ruby wanted to tell Celeste how much this meant—not just the music, but this. Being here together. But the words felt too big, too dangerous, so she just held on tighter.
By the time they made it back to the hotel, night had fully fallen. The Quarter was still buzzing with energy, music pouring from doorways, people laughing on balconies, the air thick with the scent of food and flowers.
Back in their room, Ruby collapsed onto the bed while Celeste ordered room service. “I'm exhausted,” Ruby announced. “In the best way possible.”
“We walked probably ten miles today.”
“Worth every step.” Ruby grabbed the remote. “Movie?”
“What kind?”
“I’m not sure,” Ruby scrolled through options. “Oh! This one's supposed to be terrible. Perfect.”
They changed into pajamas and curled up together on the bed, a tray of fruit between them. The movie was indeed terrible, something about educated pirates that made absolutely no sense.
“Okay, hold on,” Ruby said fifteen minutes in. “So the pirate captain needs a specific compass that's also a magical artifact? This is the most convoluted time travel system I've ever seen.”
Celeste was already laughing. “Maybe it'll make sense later.”
“It absolutely will not. Also, why is the parrot wearing a tiny eye patch? Did the parrot earn that eye patch through honorable pirate combat?”
“I think the parrot is just decorative.”
“Decorative? That parrot has an eye patch and an attitude. That parrot has seen things. I'm calling it now—the parrot is the real villain.”
Twenty minutes later, when the parrot screeched and knocked over a lantern that started a fire, Ruby sat up triumphantly. “Called it! The parrot is chaos incarnate!”
“You're ridiculous,” Celeste said. A huge smile spread on her face.
“I'm being factual. There's a difference.” Ruby grabbed a grape from the tray. “Also, can we talk about how the love interest's hair stays perfect even though she's been on a pirate ship for three months? That's the real fantasy here.”
“Maybe pirate ships have really good hair products.”
“Pirate ships barely have soap. Trust me, I looked this up once for a painting. And now they're sword fighting in a thunderstorm because of course they are. Very safe and logical.”
“You're supposed to suspend disbelief.”
“I've suspended all the disbelief I can suspend. My disbelief is exhausted. It needs a vacation.”
Celeste dissolved into laughter, pressing her face into Ruby's shoulder. “Stop. I can't breathe.”
“Never. I will critique terrible movies until my dying breath.” Ruby scrunched her face as the parrot reappeared. “Look at him. Look at that smug little face. He knows what he did.”
They made it through the rest of the movie, Ruby providing increasingly absurd theories about the plot until Celeste was crying with laughter. When the credits finally rolled, they were both exhausted from giggling.
“That was the worst movie I've ever seen,” Celeste said.
“And yet, somehow, the best movie night.” Ruby settled back against the pillows. “Tell me something. What were you like as a kid?”
“I was always so serious. My siblings used to joke that I was born middle-aged.”
“I can't picture you as anything but serious.”
“I had my moments. Once I convinced Enzo that we could fly if we jumped off the roof with umbrellas. We both ended up in the ER.”
Ruby sat up. “You what?”
“I was six! And very into Peter Pan! My mother was furious. My father just looked at me and said 'Celeste, you're supposed to be the smart one.'”
“That's amazing. Tell me more.”
And so she did, narrating a story about the time she had stayed up for three days straight studying for finals and hallucinated that her textbook was singing to her, which amused Ruby greatly.
“I need to hear about the twins though,” Ruby said eventually. “What was it like, when they were born?”
Celeste's expression softened immediately. “Terrifying, but also magical. I went into labor three weeks early. Braden was at the hospital for a thirty-six hour shift. By the time he got there, I was already at six centimeters and swearing I was going to kill him for this.”
Ruby grinned. “Fair.”
“They were born four minutes apart. Theo first, screaming bloody murder.
Then Luna, so quiet the nurses had to make sure she was okay.
And I just—I looked at them and thought, 'oh, this is what I've been waiting for.'”” Celeste's voice was thick with emotion.
“Not the marriage or the perfect life. This. Them.”
“They're lucky to have you.”
“I'm lucky to have them.”
They fell into quiet, the comfortable kind that didn't need filling. Celeste's breathing was starting to even out, and Ruby felt her own exhaustion pulling at her.
“Ruby?” Celeste's voice was sleepy.
“Yeah?”
“Today was perfect.”
“Yeah. It really was.”
Ruby tightened her arms around Celeste, drawing comfort from her warmth, her steady breathing and the solid reality of her.
She let that sensation settle over her as Celeste's breathing deepened into sleep, and soon Ruby followed her into dreams.
***
The next day dawned bright and clear. They hit the festival early, and Ruby was determined to see everything they'd missed.
“Pottery demonstration first,” she announced in a voice that brooked no opposition.
The pottery demonstration was mesmerizing, the artist's hands covered in clay, shaping bowls and vases with skillful movements.
“Would you ever try that?” Celeste asked.
“Pottery? Maybe. I like the idea of creating something functional. Art you can actually use.” Ruby pulled her toward the next booth. “Come on, there's jewelry next.”
The jewelry booth was run by a woman who sold delicate silver pieces inlaid with stones, copper bangles with intricate designs and necklaces that looked like they belonged in a museum. Celeste picked up a bracelet.
“These are stunning.”
“Try it on.”
“I’m not sure.”
“Just try it.” She watched as Celeste slipped the bracelet on, the silver catching the light. “Lovely. We're getting it.”
“You don't have to buy me things.”
“I want to.” She paid before Celeste could protest further. “Think of it as a souvenir. Something to remember this trip.”
They moved on to a small stage where a man was blowing up balloons to turn into balloon animals.
“The twins would love this.”
“We can try bringing one back.” Ruby winked at her, both aware no balloon animal would last that long in a car.
Ruby looked around and then her eyes settled on something else. She hurried to the next stand and picked up a handmade sketchbook.
“For Luna. She’d like this, right?”
Celeste smiled. “She'd love it.”
Ruby added watercolors and colored pencils, then moved to the next stall. “And Theo, oh, perfect. Look at this poster of the solar system. And this model rocket kit.”