Chapter Eighteen
Ruby
Ruby stood frozen in the doorway, Celeste's words still ringing in her ears.
“What did you just say to me?”
Celeste's jaw was tight, her eyes blazing with something Ruby had never seen before—anger mixed with desperation.
“You heard me. You're just as much of a coward as I am.
You hide your best work because you're terrified of failing again.
You keep yourself small and safe because you can't handle the possibility of rejection.”
“That's not—”
“It is exactly that. And you know what? I shared some of your art pieces with Jonas Ford, the collector your agent's been trying to connect you with.”
Ruby felt the blood drain from her face. “You what?”
“I went into your phone a few days ago and forwarded the pictures of your work to me. And when I met him on the grounds of the festival, while you were away to get us some snacks, I sent it all to him.“
The room tilted and Ruby grabbed the doorframe to steady herself. “You had no right.”
“I have every right,” Celeste interrupted, her voice rising to match Ruby's shock. “Because it hurts me to see a brilliant woman like you sabotage herself. You're so incredibly talented, and you're wasting it because you're too scared to try again.”
“That wasn't your call to make. It was mine. My work, my choice, my risk to take or not take.”
“I wanted to help—”
“You violated my trust! You decided to expose my personal work without asking me. I showed you those pieces because I trusted you, and you betrayed that.”
“Ruby, listen to me. I thought—and still do—I was doing the best thing for you.”
“You thought wrong.” Ruby wrapped her arms around herself, feeling exposed and raw. “You should have asked me. You should have talked to me about it. But instead, you went behind my back and made a decision about my life.”
“You're right. It wasn't my decision.” Celeste laughed, but it came out bitter and broken. “I guess we're both just two self-sabotaging women, aren't we? Me hiding who I am, you hiding what you can do. We're perfect for each other in the worst possible way.”
The words hung between them, heavy and unbearable, but true.
“I had the best time with you,” Celeste continued, her voice softer now which somehow made it worse. “Truly. This week has been everything. But this has to come to an end, Ruby. It was always going to end.”
“It doesn't have to,” Ruby said, hearing the desperation creeping into her own voice despite her anger. “We could talk about this…figure something out…”
Celeste shook her head. “We can’t. Even if you could forgive me for overstepping, I still can’t give you what you want.”
Ruby felt tears threatening to fall and blinked them back furiously. She wouldn’t cry yet. Not in front of Celeste.
“If…if that’s what you want, then I’m just going to have to accept it.”
She moved to where she'd dropped her clothes earlier, her shaky fingers fumbling with the buttons of her shirt.
They still had some more time to spend together before the end of the festival.
They could be adults about this and keep things civil until they drove back to Cheyenne Valley and went their separate ways.
Her heart felt like it was being crushed in a vice, but she'd survive, wouldn’t she? An increasingly wide chasm reverberated the question back at her with no solid reassurances.
“Wait.”
Ruby turned to find Celeste watching her with an expression she couldn't read, something between hope and despair.
“What is it?”
“Maybe—” Celeste swallowed hard, her hands twisting together. “Maybe we could keep seeing each other but keep it out of the public eye.”
Ruby felt every muscle in her body go cold. Time seemed to slow down, stretching the moment into something grotesque. “You mean, keep it a secret?”
Awareness crossed Celeste's face, her eyes widening as she realized what she'd just suggested. “No, that's not…I mean, it wouldn't be exactly a secret—”
But Ruby was already moving. She grabbed her jacket, shoved her feet into her shoes with such force she nearly stumbled.
“Ruby, wait, please let me explain.”
Ruby turned to look at her, and whatever Celeste saw in her face made her stop talking mid-sentence.
“I told you that I deserved to be loved openly.” Her voice cracked as she spoke, which made the impact of her words all the more devastating. “And you’ve just asked me to hide again.
“That's not what I meant.”
“It's exactly what you meant. I need to go.”
“Where are you going?”
“Out. Away. I don't know.” Her hand sought the doorknob, knuckles white. “I can't be here or look at you right now.”
She stepped into the hallway and pulled the door shut behind her before Celeste could say anything else. The click of it closing felt like the final period on a sentence she had no desire to finish.
Her vision blurred with angry tears as she waited for the elevator. It took forever to arrive. When it did, she stared at her distorted reflection in the metal doors, trying to recognize herself.
When had she become someone who perpetually fell for people who couldn't love her back? When had she become someone who kept settling for less than she deserved?
The elevator dinged. Ruby stepped in and immediately two other hotel guests joined her—a couple in their sixties, dressed for dinner, smiling at each other with the easy affection that came from years of being able to love each other openly.
She turned away, pressing herself into the corner.
The lobby was busy with festivalgoers coming and going. She pushed through the revolving doors and out into the French Quarter, where the celebration had continued without her.
Music poured from every doorway—jazz and blues and something with a heavy bass beat that made her chest vibrate. People laughed on balconies above her and a group of women in matching bachelorette party shirts stumbled past, singing off-key.
The whole world was having fun, completely oblivious to the fact that Ruby's heart had just been torn apart.
She walked without direction, letting the crowds carry her forward. Her feet moved on autopilot while her mind replayed the argument on an endless loop.
Then the constricting feeling within her grew tighter and she couldn’t get enough air. The crowds pressed in on all sides, too loud, too close, too happy.
Eventually she found herself back at the carnival section. The games and rides were lit up against the darkening sky, garish and cheerful. The carousel played tinny music and somewhere, a child was crying while their parent tried to soothe them.
She stood at the edge of it all, feeling like an outsider looking in at something she couldn't touch.
Have fun, she told herself desperately. That's what you came here for. So just try to have fun and forget about all of it.
She approached a ring toss booth, the same one where she'd won the alligator for Celeste. The attendant was different this time, a teenage boy who looked bored out of his mind.
Ruby paid, accepting the rings. She lined up her first shot, aiming for the bottle necks. The ring sailed over and missed entirely.
The second and third tries were also misses.
Ruby threw the final ring harder than necessary. It bounced off a bottle and clattered to the ground.
She walked away feeling worse than before. She'd won Celeste stuffed animals at this exact game, and now she couldn't hit a single target.
The funnel cake stand had a short line. Ruby joined it, not because she was hungry but because she needed to look like she had a purpose instead of just wandering aimlessly through a festival with a broken heart.
“One funnel cake,” she said when it was her turn.
“Powdered sugar or cinnamon sugar?” The woman running the stand had kind eyes and flour on her apron.
“Powdered.”
The woman handed it over, still warm. “You okay, honey? You look like you're about to cry.”
Ruby shook her head, not trusting her voice.
“Boy trouble?”
“Girl trouble.”
“Ah.” The woman's expression softened with understanding. “Those are often worse. Take an extra napkin. And remember, if she can't see how special you are, she doesn't deserve you.”
Ruby took the napkin and walked away before she actually did start crying. She found a somewhat quieter corner and took a bite of the funnel cake. It tasted like cardboard. Or maybe it tasted fine and her entire ability to experience joy had been destroyed. It was hard to tell.
She managed three bites before giving up, tossing it in a nearby trash can.
Every food vendor reminded her of sharing meals with Celeste. Every game booth reminded her of winning prizes. Every couple walking hand-in-hand felt like a knife to the chest.
She drifted through the carnival for another hour, trying and failing to recapture even a fraction of the joy she'd felt yesterday.
Finally, she found a bench tucked away from the main crowds and sank onto it. Her feet hurt and so did her eyes from holding back tears.
Celeste's last words kept echoing in her head. Not the cruel ones about Ruby being a coward—though those hurt too—but the other ones.
You're so talented and you're wasting it all because you're too scared to try again.
She hated that even in the middle of breaking her heart, Celeste had seen through to the truth.
She had been scared for years. And yeah, what Celeste had done was wrong—sharing Ruby's work without permission was a violation. But it had also come from a place of caring, of believing in Ruby when Ruby didn't believe in herself.
Part of her wanted to return to the hotel right now and inform Celeste that she understood why she'd done it. That they could figure this out and enjoy the couple of days left together instead of tossing them away because both were too scared to be vulnerable.
But the other part that had promised herself she'd never be someone's secret again, that part knew going back would be a mistake.
Because even if they made up tonight, nothing would change. Celeste would still be too terrified to come out and Ruby would still be unwilling to hide. They'd still end up here, heartbroken and impossible, only maybe a few days later.
At least this way, they could both start healing sooner.
She sat on that bench for hours, watching the carnival slowly empty as it got later. Families left first, kids exhausted and cranky, then couples and groups of friends. Eventually, some of the vendors began packing up their stalls.
The lights began going out one by one, the carnival transforming from bright and cheerful to dark and slightly eerie.
Around midnight, Ruby finally stood up. Her legs had gone stiff from sitting so long and she walked slowly back toward the hotel, dreading seeing the hurt in Celeste's eyes that matched her own.
But maybe they could talk and—what? There were no compromises here. No middle ground between hiding and being open or a way to make this work when they wanted fundamentally different things.
Still, Ruby owed Celeste a conversation instead of just walking out.
The late-night desk clerk barely glanced up as Ruby entered the hotel lobby and crossed to the elevators. The hallway was quiet, most guests already asleep or still out enjoying the night.
She opened the door to their room and immediately knew something was wrong. Celeste's suitcase was gone and the stuffed animal Ruby had won for her—the alligator—sat on the bed, abandoned.
On the nightstand was a folded piece of hotel stationery.
Ruby's hands shook as she picked it up.
Ruby,
I'm sorry. For everything. For violating your privacy, for asking you to hide, for not being brave enough to give you what you deserve.
I was lucky enough to find an empty seat on the next flight back to Cheyenne Valley. By the time you read this, I'll probably be in the air.
The car is yours to drive. Just drop it off at the rental place whenever you make it back.
Thank you for the best week of my life. I mean that. You showed me what it feels like to be alive and to let go of control. You gave me something I didn't know I needed.
I hope Jonas Ford appreciates your talent as much as I do. I hope you take the chance. You deserve success, Ruby. You deserve everything.
I'm sorry I couldn't be brave enough to deserve you.
—C
Ruby read it a couple of times, then she sank onto the bed, still holding the note, and finally let herself fall apart.
Celeste was gone. She had left without saying goodbye and there was no point in continuing the festival without her.
Tomorrow Ruby would have to drive back alone and along the way, decide whether to email Jonas Ford. She would have to figure out how to put her life back together when it felt like everything important had just walked out the door.
But tonight, she just let herself cry. For Celeste, for herself, for the future they'd never have. And for the week that had been so perfect it almost made up for the ending.
Almost.