“He's a character,” Ruby said.
“He's wonderful,” Celeste admitted. “I'm glad we stayed.”
Ruby's smile was soft. “Me too.”
They drove to a diner Ruby spotted two blocks over, a tiny place called Daisy's that looked like it had been frozen in time since the late 60s. This seemed to be the style in this area. Millie’s had been very similar.
“Morning, darlings. Coffee?”
“Please,” they said in unison.
They ordered breakfast—eggs and toast for Celeste, a stack of pancakes for Ruby. The food arrived quickly, steaming and fresh. Ruby attacked her pancakes with enthusiasm while Celeste picked at her eggs, her appetite still missing.
She snuck glances at Ruby across the table, taking notice of the way syrup caught on her bottom lip and the way her hands moved.
Stop it,Celeste told herself. But her traitorous eyes wouldn't listen.
After breakfast, they headed back to the parking lot. The sun was higher now, promising a warm day.
“Want me to drive for a bit?” Ruby offered, jingling the car keys. “You've been behind the wheel since the trip began.”
“I feel better driving.”
Ruby studied her for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. Control thing?”
“Preference thing.”
“Right.” Ruby handed over the keys and moved to the passenger side, whistling a low tune.
Celeste slid behind the wheel, grateful for something to focus on. Driving she could do. There were rules, predictable patterns, clear right and wrong answers.
Unlike whatever was happening between her and the woman nearby.
The car moved for a while in silence before Ruby spoke again.
“So, about what happened upstairs.”
Celeste shook her head. “I thought I made it clear—”
“You're attracted to me. Which means either you're bi, or pan, or—” Ruby paused.
The silence stretched and Celeste kept her eyes on the road, watching the center line disappear under the hood. Her mouth was dry and her heart was hammering.
This was it. The moment she'd been avoiding for so many years.
“I'm a lesbian,” she said finally. The words felt strange in her mouth, like speaking a language she'd learned but never practiced out loud. “I've known since I was a teenager.”
Ruby was quiet for a long moment. “Okay.”
“That's it? Just 'okay'?”
“What else should I say?”
“I don't know. Most people have questions. Or opinions. Or—” her voice cracked slightly. “Judgment.”
“I have questions. But 'okay' seemed like a good starting point. And I don't judge people for who they love, fellow lesbian or not.“
Ruby's expression was open, curious but not invasive. There was no disappointment there, just patient interest.
