“Nothing happened. We saw the festival, had a good time, and then I booked a flight home. That's all.” She stood up, her chair scraping against the floor. “I’ll be right back.”
She fled before anyone could stop her and leaned against the wall outside the bathroom, pressing her palms to her eyes. She could feel her family's concern hovering about, but she couldn't explain that she'd fallen in love with a woman and been too scared to choose her.
When she returned to the dinner table, her parents and grandmother all looked at her with matching expressions of worry.
“Stay tonight,” Ottavia urged. “Your old room is ready. We can talk in the morning when you're rested.”
She shook her head. “I really should get home.”
Then Vittoria was looking at her with those dark eyes that had always seen through Celeste's defenses. “When you're ready to talk, we're here. All of us.”
“That’s right,” Daniel added. “Don't ever feel hesitant to share how you truly feel.”
“I know, Dad. Thank you.”
When Celeste made it back home, tears had already begun to blur her vision. She didn't even make it to the bedroom. She collapsed onto the living room couch and finally let herself cry.
She cried for Ruby, who deserved so much better than what Celeste could offer. And for the future she'd glimpsed and then thrown away with both hands.
She cried until her throat was raw and her eyes were swollen and there were no more tears left.
And then she just lay there in the darkness, staring at nothing, feeling nothing except the hollow ache where her heart used to be.
On Wednesday evening, Braden's text came through while Celeste wasattempting to work through case files at home.
Braden:Dinner at our place tonight. 7 PM. Don't say no.
Celeste:I'm tired.
Braden:I will literally come get you myself. Put on pants and get over here.
Celeste:I'm already wearing pants.
Braden:Then you're halfway there. See you at 7.
Celeste considered ignoring him. But Braden was persistent when he wanted to be, and he'd absolutely show up at her door if she didn't respond.
Celeste:Fine.
She changed into clean jeans and a sweater, then drove to Braden and Jackson's new place across town. It was a small house in a quiet neighborhood, with a porch swing and flower boxes Jackson had installed himself.
The door opened before Celeste could knock. Jackson stood there grinning, an apron tied around his waist that said “Kiss the Cook.”
“Celeste! Come in. We're making pasta from scratch. Well, Braden's making pasta. I'm the moral support element and wine pourer.”
The house smelled of garlic and tomatoes. Music played from somewhere in the kitchen, something jazzy and upbeat. Jackson led her through the living room, which was still half-unpacked boxes and mismatched furniture, into a kitchen that was somehow both chaotic and cozy.
In the kitchen, Braden stood at the counter with his hands covered in flour, rolling out dough with intense concentration. He looked up when Celeste entered and his face lit up with pleasure.
“You came!”
“You threatened me.”
“Because I knew you'd try to hermit.” Braden wiped his hands on a towel and pulled her into a hug. “You look terrible, by the way.”
“Thanks.”
“I mean it lovingly.” He held her at arm's length, studying her face with concern. “Did something go wrong with Ruby?”
