But I don’t look away.
Because Ruby is in my arms again, and just like that, the world feels a little less lonely.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Ruby
I wakeup smiling so hard my cheeks ache. Smiling like someone in a toothpaste commercial. Smiling like a woman who got kissed by a man who is far more than just a grump on the inside. I’m pretty sure my brain short-circuited somewhere around the three-second mark of that kiss.
My lips are still tingling. My heart’s still doing the cha-cha in my chest.
Last night was magic. Unexpected, heart-thudding magic.
After weeks of mixed signals, Griffin finally let his guard down. We danced for hours. He whispered apologies and sweet nothings in my ear. He kissed me like I was something precious, like I wasn’t just his unwanted business partner but a woman worth staying for.
And for the first time since I became a young widow, I let myself believe lightning could strike twice, that I could be lucky again.
I hum my favorite tunes, dress in my favorite winter sweater and float to the shop, replaying that kiss in slow motion. The sun is shining, the air smells like pine and snow.
Then I turn onto Main Street. And I see it.
Oopsie Daisies. My shop. Our shop. Padlocked.
A huge silver padlock hangs from the doorknob. A bright white sign taped to the glass reads:
CLOSED – OUT OF BUSINESS
My stomach drops straight through the sidewalk.
No, no, no.
I pull my keys out with shaking hands and try the door anyway, even though the padlock is right there, mocking me. The key doesn’t even fit. He changed the lock. He actually changed it.
The humming in my chest collapses into something sharp and cold.
“Griffin?” I whisper, as if he’s inside. As if he might open the door and laugh and say this is all some misunderstanding.
But the shop is empty.
And that little white sign stares back at me like the world’s cruelest joke.
Closed.
Out of business.
The wording feels like a knife. My breath shakes. Myheart is once again coming apart like the petals on a withering flower. I step back, blinking hard, my throat burning.
Last night wasn’t magic. It was subterfuge. A distraction. To cover what he was really doing underneath.
He kissed me. He held me. He said things with his eyes he had no right to say.
And today? He padlocked my shop. Clara’s shop. And he didn’t even tell me.
A sob slips out of me. How could I be so naive? How could I fall for a man who showed me a dozen times he thinks in numbers, not emotions. I press my forehead to the cold glass door, the one I’ve unlocked every morning for years, and whisper, “How could you do this?”
I know I’ve become far more attached to this place than any store manager in history but it meant more than a shop. It meant friendship, community, finding my happiness again.
I retreat to my car before anyone sees me fall apart. When I close the door, I break. Wracking deep sobs. I haven’t cried like this in years. It’s not just grief, it’s betrayal.
