Ruby flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The wood beams were old, probably original to the building. Someone had carved initials into one of them—A.H. + R.M., surrounded by a lopsided heart. A declaration of love that had outlasted whoever carved it.
That's what Ruby had always wanted, really. Since she was a kid watching romance movies while her brother rolled his eyes. She'd always believed in grand romantic gestures and happily-ever-afters. She wanted someone to build a life with. Someone who'd be proud to introduce her to their family, hold her hand in public, love her loudly and without reservation.
She'd thought she'd found that a few times. Claire, who'd kissed her in dark corners but introduced her as her roommate at parties. Melissa, who'd said she loved Ruby but asked her not to “be so obvious” at work events—whatever that meant. Sarah, who'd been perfect on paper but had somehow never gotten around to telling her conservative parents that Ruby was her girlfriend, not just her friend.
Each time, Ruby had convinced herself it would be different. That eventually they'd come around and choose her.
Each time, she'd been wrong.
After Sarah, Ruby had made herself a promise: never again. She deserved to be loved openly, without shame or secrecy. She deserved someone who wanted to shout their love from rooftops, not hide it in the shadows.
And now here she was, lying on a bed she'd be sharing tonight with a straight woman who probably had no idea how attractive she was. Also freshly divorced and dealing with the aftermath of a marriage that had imploded when her husband realized he was gay.
A woman who made Ruby's heart do acrobatics every time she smiled.
None of these feelings matter, so stop torturing yourself,Ruby told herself.She’s straight. It’s never going to happen.
But her traitorous heart kept replaying moments from the day. The way Celeste had laughed in the car, unguarded and striking. The way she'd stood so close before going into the bathroom, near enough that Ruby could have reached out and held her.
She sighed out loud and massaged her temples. This was exactly how she got herself into trouble. Reading too much into friendly gestures and seeing possibility where there was only politeness.
The bathroom door opened and Celeste emerged looking slightly more composed.
“I'm starving,” Celeste announced. “Should we eat?”
Ruby sat up, grateful for something concrete to focus on. “Definitely. Noah's pot roast awaits.”
They moved around the small room as they set up dinner. Ruby unpacked the containers while Celeste found plates in the small kitchenette Noah had mentioned, just a hot plate and a microwave tucked behind a screen.
“He said 350 degrees for twenty minutes,” Celeste said, reading from a note Noah had tucked into the bag. “'Low and slow brings out the flavor.' He underlined that three times.”
“The man takes his pot roast seriously.” Ruby transferred the food to an oven-safe dish. “I respect that.”
The food heated, filling the room with rich, savory smells, just before the microwave beeped. They served up the food:tender beef in rich gravy, carrots and potatoes that melted on the tongue. Ruby's stomach growled audibly.
“Some’s hungry.” Celeste had barely spoken the words when her own stomach rumbled also, eliciting a giggled from Ruby. They ate in silence at first, the kind of comfortable quiet that came from indulging in good food. Ruby watched Celeste take her first bite, her eyes widening slightly.
“Okay,” Celeste said. “Noah wasn't exaggerating. This is life-changing.”
“Right? I feel like we should send him a thank-you note.”
“Already planning it mentally.” Celeste speared another piece of beef. “So what do you do these days, in general? I want more specificity. I assumed you'd be some high-flying accountant or consultant by now.”
Ruby laughed, nearly choking on her water. “An accountant? That's the most insulting thing anyone's ever said to me.”
“What? You were brilliant with numbers.”
“Being good at something doesn't mean you want to do it forever.” Ruby wiped her mouth with a napkin, still grinning at the absurdity of it. Her, an accountant. She'd rather stick needles in her eyes. “As I said previously, I’m an artist. I paint and sometimes do mixed media. It can’t get any more specific than that, just as being a lawyer is often about taking on cases.”
“That sounds really impressive.”
“Thank you. The academic overachiever thing came naturally. But art made me feel alive. Still does, when I let it.”
“I never knew that about you.”
“Why would you? We weren’t exactly swapping life dreams in high school.” Ruby leaned back in her chair. “But I always knew you'd be a lawyer. You had that intensity about you. Like you were already building a case in your head for everything.”
A flush rose in Celeste’s cheeks, spreading down her neck. Ruby tracked its progress before forcing herself to look away.
