35. Ruby
“Sam?” I ask while rubbing my eyes, only to get no answer. There’s no Sam in my bed and not a single sound coming from anywhere in the house.
It’s quiet and empty and while I know that he and the guys are gone, I still walk through the entire house in case they hide somewhere to prank me.
It’s just wishful thinking and it shouldn’t surprise me, especially not after I straight up told Sam that I have no feelings for him.
But I had to do it. I was wrong to drag both of us into this mess. He was already hurt once, and I don’t want to use him to fill a hole. I dove headfirst into all of this and didn”t give both of us the time to think about if we really wanted it.
And when he told me about his past, it felt like a slap in the face. A very needed one, because it forced me to accept that Sam has his own life. His life that he has to return to.
He doesn’t exist in a vacuum just because he stepped foot into this house where I act like reality doesn’t exist and where I treated him like a doll that could be used to make me happy.
Yes, we had something, and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t just slowly developing Stockholm syndrome on his side, but it still wouldn’t justify me telling him to stay. And Sam seemed to be relieved, or at least content with it, as long as I try not to think about the way he looked at me. Or the way he held me, his fingers tangled in my hair as he kissed me.
As I enter what had been his room, reality finally sets in. The severity of my words hits me and I sit down on his bed. The bed that still smells like him, I realize as I cry into the pillow.
I cry for hours until I’m pretty sure that there’s not a single drop of water left in my body. I cry until it gets dark again and I fall asleep in his bed.
Three days, that’s how long I keep on repeating this shitshow. But then the doorbell rings, forcing me out of hiding.
The courier looks as if he is contemplating calling an ambulance while I sign his papers. I rip the brown envelope open right in the hallway and the entryway to my new life lays in front of me on the white marble. Well, at least a part of it.
A medical certificate about my father’s cause of death, an autopsy report; it’s all there. I feel sorry for the poor guy who really died, but at the same time, I’m thankful that all of this went smoothly so far.
It’s just like Sam promised me. I would thank him, but I don’t know how. I don’t have his private number, only the one of the burner phone he used around here. The one that’s still lying on his old desk upstairs.
Not that it would be a good idea to contact him either way. What we had was nice for the time being, but now it’s over and I’ll respect his decision. I disrespected his boundaries enough when he was still around.
I have Max’s number though, and he frantically encouraged me to use it, so I send him a message to let him know I got the documents. He replies in an instant, asks me how I am, and apologizes for not saying goodbye when they left. He tells me something about having to catch a flight, as if he’s worried that I’m mad at him. I’m not. He’s a good guy. All of them are, and I’m not mad at them for having Sam’s back.
The worst thing is that I can’t be mad at anyone but myself. If Sam had said that he loved me only to take it back a few hours later, I would have been devastated. Would have been pissed and hurt, and certainly not as sweet and understanding as he had been.
I should be happy that he just left while I was asleep. It hurts like hell and I’m pretty sure it’ll hurt forever, but at least he spared the both of us an awkward goodbye.
Three days really seem to be all the universe grants me to get myself together, because just when I’m done with showering, putting on fresh clothes after way too long, and applying a bit of makeup to trick myself into thinking that everything is going to be okay, someone knocks at the front door.
“—told you that’s a bad idea.”
Dom’s voice comes from behind the door as I put my hand on the handle. He looks surprised as I open it, just like the big guy behind him.
“You look like shit, peanut,” Vinny blurts out. Guess hiding my swollen eyes behind makeup didn’t work that well.
“Where’s your father?”
“Gone.”
“Gone?”
“Dead.”
Dom looks at me as if he is waiting for me to say that I’m joking. It takes him a few seconds to get himself back under control, and he hugs me while Vinny eyes me knowingly.
I gesture at them to come in, only now seeing that the living room still looks like it had three days ago when the guys were here.
“Did you have good company or did you start smoking like your old man?”
I sigh and Vinny respects me enough to stop asking about the mess in here. I toss him a beer and bring two glasses of water for Dom and me before I join them at the dinner table.
“When’s the funeral?”
“No funeral. He died abroad, was a bit of a hassle. They cremated him already, and if I’m honest, I don’t want to hold one.”
They nod, and Vinny sets the can down again. He’s huge, bigger than I remember him. He must be in his early sixties by now. I have known him since I was little. He was basically my father’s right-hand man, and even lived with us for years, back when mom was still around.
“So, you’re the boss now, peanut?”
He gave me the name peanut after I came running to him as a kid, hysterical, because I got a peanut stuck in my nose. It happened once, fucking once, but I guess the name sticks.
Apart from tending to my broken heart, I also thought about the situation with my father’s business. From the moment they drove off with him, this topic had been on my mind.
At first, I wanted nothing to do with it. With parts of it, I still want nothing to do. But it’s a profitable business and I have the knowledge and the men to make it work.
Under my terms.
That’s what I tell Vinny and Dom in the next few hours. We discuss a few things, mainly Vinny and me, because Dom still seems a bit overwhelmed.
Understandable; he was never this involved with all of it. He did a bit of courier stuff for my father, drove him and his men around, and now he’s suddenly promoted right to the top.
Vinny and he ran into each other right outside of the gate. Dom came looking for me because he had a bad gut feeling and Vinny came because he and a few other guys couldn’t get a hold of my father in the last few days.
In the end, we’re all on the same terms. No more fucking human trafficking, no organ bullshit, no forced prostitution. If I find out that someone tries shit behind my back, I want them to inform me immediately so that I can take care of the issue.
I have to keep a close eye on anyone, especially now. I’ve seen what happens when you don’t do it.
It’s not like all of this is suddenly an ethical operation, but if I don’t take matters into my own hands, someone else will take over. And I’d prefer the local drug market to be in my hands because whoever would come after me, they would be on my ass immediately. Retired competition is still competition.
Late at night, they finally leave, but not without making sure that I’ll call them if I need anything. Vinny is a good guy, even if he seems gruff. He’ll take care of everything, will do what I told him to do, and he’ll make sure that the others do the same.
My next few days are filled with calls and with people who knock on my door to express their condolences or to complain about the new rules, which helps me weed out the idiots who I don’t want to work with any longer.
It also helps me forget about the whole situation with Sam. Until it’s late at night and I’m sitting on the couch in this house that’s way too big for one person, when not even three screens are enough to distract me from the fact that I’m goddamn lonely.
When one of the banks where my father had his money stashed away calls me to inform me it’s now officially mine, I put on a proper outfit and drive into the city.
There’s something I need to do, something I wanted to do for so long, and happiness replaces the sadness inside of me, at least for a moment, as I hold the keys to a certain object in my hand.
My gaze lands on my wrist as I drive towards the mall, and it’s just then that I realize that something is missing. There’s only one bracelet on my wrist—and I thought Sam couldn’t confuse me even more.
My good mood is gone, replaced with this fucking void inside of me again, and when Richard smiles at me as I come into his store, the dam breaks. I sob into his shoulder until I feel bad for soaking his shirt, remembering that I came here with good news and not to make the poor man feel bad.
“I have a surprise for you,” I sniffle as I put the keys to his old new shop in his hand.
“Sweetheart, my God, that wasn’t necessary,” he says, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt, which in return causes me to start crying again.
“You can still keep the store here. I’ll pay for everything. Retire, do whatever you want, Rich. I just wanted to give you back what’s yours.”
“You’re an angel, Ruby.”
I shake my head and all the things that have happened spill out of me. The situation with my father, with his business, with Samuel, with my mom.
I talk and I cry, for hours, nonstop, and Richard listens. Just like he always did. He holds my hand, brings me tissues from time to time, and a hot chocolate when I calm down enough to drink something.
He squeezes my hand when he notices it’s all getting too much again, and strokes over my head for the parts where I can’t even form proper words.
And then, hours later, it starts to get better. It’s like my body did an emotional deep cleanse, puking out everything that has been bothering me. All the things I was so sure I could tell no one. But Richard doesn’t judge, never judged, and he also wouldn’t snitch on me. Not that the police aren’t on my father”s, well, now my, pay list, but still.
“Do you love him, sweetheart?”
“Yes,” I mumble. “But it doesn’t matter. I fucked up, and he’s gone. And it’s better this way. I have too much to take care of. He has his own issues and it wouldn’t have worked either way.”
“Don’t write it off just yet,” he says softly. “Love finds a way. If it’s meant to be, it will work out.”
Speaking to Richard helped, more than I thought it would. Maybe he’s right, maybe everything will be okay again.
I still can’t bring myself to contact Sam, though, not even after Max started a group chat with me and Logan. It doesn’t help with distancing me from the whole situation, but I like them too much to stop talking to them.
Dom comes around a few times and helps me throw my father’s stuff out of the house. We burn a few things, which was Max’s idea, and we even video-called him to let him watch. He looks like a kid on Christmas morning and I think he is slightly sad that he didn’t get to burn shit the night he spent here.
We strip my father’s bedroom and his office. The things we don’t burn, we give away to charity. We get rid of everything apart from the desk, for obvious reasons, and the Chesterfield couch, because it’s vintage and I really like how it looks.
But eventually, Dom has to leave again because his workload has increased after the recent changes.
I can’t stand being alone in this house, and after wallowing in my self-pity for a few hours, I find the courage to call Jonah.
Soon after we end our call, he knocks on my door. With booze, a bag with clothes for a few days, and a trunk full of paint and tools, because I told him I wanted to renovate.
Two days later, the house certainly looks more interesting. Tools are scattered everywhere and half of the rooms are decorated with tape and cover sheets because I couldn’t stand all those white walls any longer.
We also ripped out the wooden floorboards in my father’s office. They were stained past any point of cleaning, but after we got them out, we quickly realized that putting new flooring in was above our skill level.
After we nearly kill ourselves trying to install a lamp, we call it a day. We get comfortable on the couch, start up the newest season of Love is Blind, and order sushi.
“So, what happened to the hot guy that dragged you out of the club?” Jonah asks as he comes back from the kitchen with two daiquiris in his hands.
We drink while we wait for our food to arrive and I wish Jonah would move in because his cocktails taste better than sad white wine straight from the bottle.
“You did what? Ruby, I love you, but you’re not right in the head,” he says when I tell him about the last time me and Sam talked.
“Call him.”
“No.”
“Do it or I’ll do it.”
“No!” I yelp, rushing to take my phone from him.
The delivery guy saves me from an embarrassing phone call and Jonah from getting slapped and we ordered so much food that it’s not that big of an issue that a part of our order is missing.
After most of my blood is in my stomach, busy digesting way too much sushi, Jonah coaxes me into texting Sam. I shouldn’t have told him that Max sent me his number earlier today.
It’s nothing dramatic, nothing sappy. Middle ground, a short “Hey, how are you?”
But even twenty minutes after I sent the message, there’s still only one check.
“Do you think he blocked me? Like, just in case? Oh God, why did I even listen to you?” I groan, hiding underneath my blanket.
There’s a knock on the door and since Jonah already did a good job of ruining my mood, I send him to answer the door. It’s probably the delivery guy, bringing us our lost California rolls.
But when Jonah calls for me, his voice sounds panicky. As if he just opened the door for the goddamn grim reaper instead of the delivery guy.