“Maybe.” Ruby’s smile was sad. “But it also broke something in me and made me afraid to try. Now I keep my best work hidden because showing it means risking that kind of failure again. Nora—my agent—she doesn't understand that. She thinks I'm lazy or scared or wasting my potential. And maybe I am. But at least this way, I'm safe.”
“That sounds like you're punishing yourself.”
“Maybe.” Ruby turned to look at her. “But at least I'm still functioning and creating, even if I'm not sharing the best ones. That's more than I could say a few years ago.”
They drove in silence for a while, the landscape rolling past in shades of green and brown. Celeste felt the weight of Ruby's confession settling over her, understanding it in a way she hadn't expected.
They were both hiding, she realized. Just in different ways.
“For what it's worth,” Celeste said, “the pieces you showed me were extraordinary. If that's your mediocre work, I can't imagine what your best looks like.”
Ruby's smile was more genuine this time. “You're just saying that because I bought you a necklace.”
“I'm saying it because it's true.”
“Well. Thank you.”
They fell into easier conversation after that, the tension easing. Ruby told a story about the time she'd accidentally dyed her hair green in college, thinking she was using blonde toner. Celeste countered with her experience as a new intern when she’d mixed up her files and presented the wrong case in court, to opposing counsel's delight and her supervising partner's horror.
Ruby laughed at this. “Please tell me you didn't lose the case.”
“Oh, I lost spectacularly. Had to buy the whole office coffee for a month as penance.”
“I would've paid to see that. You with egg on your face.”
“It was humbling,” Celeste admitted. “And my ego narrowly survived.”
“Your ego seems pretty intact to me.”
“That's because you don't see me at work. Ask any of my opposing counsels. They'll tell you I'm ruthless.”
“Ruthless Celeste Russo,” Ruby mused. “Has a nice ring to it.”
“Better than 'disaster Celeste,' which is what my family called me after the twins were born and I couldn't remember where I'd parked at the grocery store. Three times in one week.”
Ruby laughed, the sound filling the car. “That's actually adorable.”
“It was exhausting. Braden had to start driving me everywhere.”
“Ah yes. The supportive platonic husband.”
“The best kind,” Celeste said, and meant it.
They traded more stories—Ruby's disastrous attempt at learning to cook lasagna, which ended with the fire department coming over and Celeste's equally disastrous attempt at yoga. The miles disappeared beneath them, the conversation flowing easily now that they'd both shared something real.
Then Ruby suddenly sat up straight. “Stop the car.”
“What?”
“Please. Right now.”
Celeste pulled over, confused and slightly alarmed. Ruby was already unbuckling her seatbelt, scrambling out before the car had fully stopped. Celeste watched through the rearview mirror as Ruby ran back along the shoulder, then crouched down, her hands cupping something.
A few moments later, she rushed back to the car, cradling something small and brown against her chest.
“It's hurt,” Ruby said breathlessly as she slid into the passenger seat. “A sparrow. Its wing looks broken. We need to find a vet, so where’s the nearest town?”
Celeste pulled out her phone, already knowing this was going to derail their schedule completely.
