Chapter Nineteen
Celeste
The sun was yet to rise when Celeste's plane landed at O'Hare. She’d texted her mom from the airport in New Orleans, exhaling shakily as she typed: Coming home early and taking the midnight flight.
Her mother had called immediately, concern evident even through the phone. “Honey, you were expected to return in a couple of days, on a road trip no less. Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine. The trip ended early, that’s all, so I decided to book a flight.”
The pause on the other end made it clear that her mother wasn’t convinced by her reply. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I just need to come home.”
“Alright. The kids are already asleep so don’t worry about picking them up on your way home. Be sure to stop by tomorrow, but only after you’ve gotten some much-needed rest.”
Celeste should have felt relieved. Instead, she felt hollow. Her mother, Braden, and the rest of her family would have questions. Everyone would want to know why she’d returned early from a trip she’d looked forward to.
And she had no answers to give them.
She spent the Uber ride back home staring out the window, watching familiar landscapes blur past in the darkness. Ruby had likely discovered the note and read Celeste's cowardly goodbye.
Maybe she was relieved. Or maybe she’d cried afterwards.
Celeste hoped it was the former. Anger was an easier emotion to handle than total devastation.
Her house was dark when she arrived and she fumbled for her keys, dropped them, then picked them up with hands that wouldn't stop trembling.
Inside, everything was exactly as she'd left it. Clean counters in the kitchen and her children’s items arranged tidily around. But the space felt different somehow, emptier, like the house itself knew she'd been changed and didn't recognize her anymore.
She dragged her suitcase to her bedroom and didn't bother unpacking. The thought of sorting through clothes that smelled like Ruby's shampoo, like hotel rooms and festival crowds and everything she'd lost, was unbearable.
She crawled into bed fully clothed and stared at the ceiling until exhaustion finally dragged her under.
Work on Monday was brutal.
Technically, Celeste was supposed to be on vacation. But sitting in her empty house, staring at the walls, unable to think of any other subject except Ruby—it was unbearable.
Work was the only thing that had ever helped when her life seemed out of control.
She had depositions scheduled, client meetings to drop by on, and a motion to draft.
She went through all of it mechanically, saying the right things in the appropriate tone and taking notes in her clear handwriting.
She presented the professional facade she'd perfected over years of practice, but it felt thinner than usual.
As if anyone paying attention could see straight through it.
Wesley noticed. He was a younger lawyer she'd recently hired, hardworking and sharp, with closely cropped dark hair and perceptive grey eyes that missed nothing.
Now he was studying her with concern.
“You okay, boss?” he asked early that afternoon, poking his head into her office. “You seem a little off.”
“I'm fine.” She didn't look up from the contract she was pretending to review. “Just tired from traveling.”
“How was the trip to New Orleans?”
“It was fine.”
“Just fine? Come on, it's New Orleans during festival season. That's better than fine.”
Celeste finally looked up, forcing a smile that felt like it might crack her face. “It was great. I saw a lot of art.”
“You’re back really early. Weren’t you supposed to be gone until the next Monday?”
“Plans changed and I decided to come back.”
“Well, are you sure you're okay? You don't seem like yourself.”
“I'm just adjusting to being back. You know how it is after vacation, reality hits hard.” She turned back to the contract, dismissing him. “Was there something you needed?”
“The Hawthorne deposition got moved to Thursday. And Mrs. Charles called again about her estate planning.”
“I'll call her back. Thanks, Wesley.”
He lingered in the doorway for another moment before leaving. Celeste heard his footsteps retreat down the hall and let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.
The contract blurred in front of her. She'd read the same paragraph multiple times and still had no idea what it said.
All she could think about was Ruby's face when she had suggested keeping their relationship private. The way her expression had gone cold and closed off, right before she'd walked out without looking back.
Celeste had known even as the words left her mouth that she was making a terrible mistake. But desperation had made her stupid, had made her think maybe—possibly—Ruby would love her enough to settle for less.
Thank God Ruby had more self-respect than that.
The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of meetings Celeste barely remembered. By the time five o'clock rolled around, she felt wrung out, exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with physical tiredness.
She drove to her parents' house, motivated by the need to feel something real and good in the middle of all this emptiness.
Her father was in the front yard when she pulled up, watering the roses Celeste's mother had planted last spring. He looked up and smiled, but the smile faltered when he saw her face.
“Hey, honey. We weren't expecting you until later.”
“I got off work early. Where are the kids?”
“Inside with your mother and Vittoria. They've been having a great time.” Daniel set down the hose, studying her. “You look tired.”
“I am tired. It was a long trip.”
But her father's expression said he didn't believe it was just travel exhaustion. He didn't press though, just squeezed her shoulder as she passed.
Inside, the house smelled like marinara sauce, fresh bread and the lavender sachets her mother kept in every room. She heard laughter from the kitchen and followed the sound.
Theo and Luna were at the table with Ottavia and Vittoria, all four of them covered in flour. They appeared to be making pasta, but from the state of the kitchen, most of the flour had ended up everywhere except in the pasta.
“Mama!” Theo spotted her first, launching himself off his chair. “Look! We made fettuccine! Well, Nonna made it but we helped!”
Luna followed at a more sedate pace, but her smile was just as bright. “Hi, Mom. How was New Orleans?”
Celeste knelt down and pulled them both into a hug, breathing in the scent of flour and kid-shampoo and home.
“It was beautiful,” she murmured. “I missed you both so much.”
“We missed you too,” Luna said. “But we also had a really good time. Can we stay a few more days? Nonna said she'd teach us how to make ravioli.”
“Of course you can.” She kissed both their foreheads. “As long as your grandparents don't mind.”
“We definitely don't mind,” Ottavia said from the stove, but she was looking at Celeste with concern. “Stay for dinner, honey. We're making enough to feed an army.”
Celeste wanted to refuse and collapse in private, but her mother's expression said refusing wasn't an option.
“That sounds great, Mom.”
The adults set the table together, while the twins went to wash off the flour, having had their own dinners early. Daniel came in from outside, and they all sat down to eat like they had a thousand times before.
“So,” Daniel said once everyone had food. “Tell us about New Orleans.”
Celeste picked at her pasta. “It was nice. The art exhibits were incredible.”
“Just nice?” Her mother said. “You were gone for about a week. Surely there's more to tell than 'nice.'”
“The food was good and the music was amazing. I saw a lot of beautiful things.”
“And your traveling companion?” Vittoria asked. “The woman from high school?”
“Fine. It was fine.”
“Celeste.” Her mother's voice held a note of concern. “What's wrong? You're being very—”
“Surface level,” Daniel finished. “You're giving us the tour guide version. What really happened?”
“Nothing happened. We saw the festival, had a good time, and then I booked a flight home. That's all.” She stood up, her chair scraping against the floor. “I’ll be right back.”
She fled before anyone could stop her and leaned against the wall outside the bathroom, pressing her palms to her eyes. She could feel her family's concern hovering about, but she couldn't explain that she'd fallen in love with a woman and been too scared to choose her.
When she returned to the dinner table, her parents and grandmother all looked at her with matching expressions of worry.
“Stay tonight,” Ottavia urged. “Your old room is ready. We can talk in the morning when you're rested.”
She shook her head. “I really should get home.”
Then Vittoria was looking at her with those dark eyes that had always seen through Celeste's defenses. “When you're ready to talk, we're here. All of us.”
“That’s right,” Daniel added. “Don't ever feel hesitant to share how you truly feel.”
“I know, Dad. Thank you.”
When Celeste made it back home, tears had already begun to blur her vision. She didn't even make it to the bedroom. She collapsed onto the living room couch and finally let herself cry.
She cried for Ruby, who deserved so much better than what Celeste could offer. And for the future she'd glimpsed and then thrown away with both hands.
She cried until her throat was raw and her eyes were swollen and there were no more tears left.
And then she just lay there in the darkness, staring at nothing, feeling nothing except the hollow ache where her heart used to be.
On Wednesday evening, Braden's text came through while Celeste was attempting to work through case files at home.
Braden: Dinner at our place tonight. 7 PM. Don't say no.
Celeste: I'm tired.
Braden: I will literally come get you myself. Put on pants and get over here.
Celeste: I'm already wearing pants.
Braden: Then you're halfway there. See you at 7.
Celeste considered ignoring him. But Braden was persistent when he wanted to be, and he'd absolutely show up at her door if she didn't respond.
Celeste: Fine.