by Roya Carmen
I’m doing an excellent job of hiding my inner turmoil. I’m sure not a single one of them, including Ruby, suspects just how torn up I feel. But as nausea and light headedness overcome me, I just can’t press on anymore. I see the short pause before dessert is to be served as a perfect opportunity to excuse myself.
“Thank you so much, Amber,” I offer as I stand. “It was delicious.”
She smiles. “My pleasure. We’ve all been wanting to meet you forever.”
I smile. “Me too. I was very curious about Ruby’s family. But I’m afraid I have to go. I’m not one for dessert, and I’ve got some edits to do.” I offer a smile to everyone, catching Ruby’s stunned expression.
“Well, it was nice meeting you,” Amber says. “I hope you’ll be back soon.”
I nod, pick up my dinner dishes, and turn toward the kitchen. Ruby is hot on my heels, just as I’d suspected she would be.
“What do you mean you’re not much for dessert?” she asks. “I’ve seen you stuff your face with Millie’s brownies and chocolate chip cookies.”
Yes, she knows I was fibbing. She also knows that I don’t need to do edits on a Thursday night. I set my plate in the large kitchen sink. “I’m sorry. I just needed a breather. This is a lot to—”
“But Amber’s serving her famous red velvet cake,” she says. “She’s an amazing baker. You do not want to miss this.”
Irritation washes over me, makes my nerves tense. “Do you understand that my stomach is tied up in knots right now? The last thing I feel like right now is cake.”
She stands speechless, brows furrowed. She’s not happy, which in turn makes me unhappy.
“Of course you would never understand,” I go on. “You don’t have my problems. You cannot even imagine what anxiety is like. Always so carefree, you are—”
“Oh, don’t you fucking start with me too,” she snaps, the profanity jarring me. “Yeah, that’s me, good old Ruby. Carefree, good for nothing, always out for a good time, the black sheep.”
“That’s not what I meant. You’re an amazing woman. You just… you’re moving too fast. You expect too much of me.”
She studies me for a long beat, her face full of emotion before it collapses in surrender. “You’re right. I’m being selfish. I just wanted you to meet my family. I never thought once how you felt in all this.”
I close the distance between us and pull her into my arms. “No, no, you’re not selfish. I just need a bit more time.”
I know it’ll take a while, but I’m determined that for her, I’ll grow, become a better person, free of my neuroses. Ruby is young and full of life. The last thing she needs is an old, neurotic man dragging her down.
Ruby
I stack plates and glasses on the counter, my mind full of August. Or is it Eric now? I still think of him as August. I’ve known him too long as August. I’d never realized how fragile he was, and now I’m really starting to freak out. I cannot be trusted with a fragile, vulnerable heart. I’m too wild and carefree. I’m too clumsy to hold a heart like his in my hands. I’m terrified of breaking it. I’ve never been in a relationship that has felt so real, so intense. I’ve never been this scared.
Amber startles me when she says softly, “You’re very quiet.” She doesn’t quite look at me as she loads the dishwasher. “That’s not like you.”
I don’t know what to say. I’m afraid if I speak my doubts, she’ll tell me I’m making a big mistake getting involved with him. Then we’ll fight, and I’ll be left confused and torn. “Just thinking…”
“He wasn’t at all like I expected,” she says. “He seems sweet, a very quiet man.”
I smile. He is sweet. “What did you expect?”
Her gaze skitters across the kitchen. “I don’t know… I kind of expected a jerk, a harsh man. Aiden was always bitching about how much of an ass—”
I laugh, and after a beat or two, so does she. “Did you also hear he eats kittens for breakfast?”
She laughs, then her smile fades. She looks out the window. “He’s absolutely gorgeous.” She turns to me and smiles. “I can definitely understand the attraction.”
I smirk at her. “Hey, you have your own man. Hands off mine.”
She slaps her tea towel against my arm like she always does, like she has done for years. “Jealous much?”
“Yes! He’s mine and only mine.”
She shakes her head and laughs.
I have a good chuckle, but when I think about everything she has done for me, my laughter fades. “But seriously, thank you so much for dinner tonight. And thanks for being so nice to him… and for everything you’ve done.”
She gives me a soft smile and reaches for me, a loving gesture she has performed a thousand times. “It made me so happy. Anything for my little sis.”
The next few weeks are a dream.
August and I get to know each other even more. I spend the weekends at my place working on my book and missing him terribly, but the week is all his. After work, we watch old eighties movies I’ve never seen – all his favourites. He teaches me how to play billiards and darts. We sit in the backyard and have tea with Millie in the afternoons. We go for long rides in the country and have the occasional coffee in town. We read his erotica and go over the plot points, structure, and dialogue. We cook together. We laugh often. We play. We make love. We fuck.
And he shows me every nook and cranny of his beautiful “castle.”
Even the mystery room.
My hearts pounds as he turns the door handle slowly. The room is dark, but I can see it’s just as stunning as all the others. Long heavy drapes cover a large window. After we walk into the room, August pulls at a string, and as the drapes separate, light floods the room and brings all the paintings to life.
Olivia’s paintings.
The room is full of paintings stacked against the walls, easels, brushes, jars of paints, and all kinds of stuff I don’t recognize – I’ve only worked with watercolour and acrylic, never with oil as she did. Bookshelves are filled with women’s literature, history, photography, art books, and framed photos of August and Olivia.
“I couldn’t bear to give her things away, so I put everything in here, including all the photos. I like to come here once in a while and just look at the two of us,” he tells me with a smile.
My heart aches for him. “This is beautiful. Thank you for showing it to me.” I feel a little ill-at-ease, like a small girl taken into a room she’s not normally allowed in, a room full of toys she wants to touch.
“I’m glad you’re here. Please take a seat,” he says, gesturing to the pink chaise longue in the corner. “I thought you might like to see her collection of paintings since you’re an artist yourself.”
I shake my head. “Not like this. These paintings are magnificent.”
He smiles again, but it’s a sad smile.
“I love her work,” I say, at a loss for other words. “Beautiful.”
“Me too. I feel like Olivia is still here when I look at her paintings, and when I miss her, I come in here… and sometimes I talk to her.”
God, I want to cry. “I’m glad you have this.”
“I’m glad too. She’s still a large part of my life. She’ll always be…” His words float between us. He’s asking if this is okay with me.
“I think that’s great, Eric. I never want you to forget her.”
He stares at me for the longest time. Then he falls to his knees at my feet. “There’s room for both of you in my life, Ruby. You know that, right?”
“Yes.” I pull him to me, and we share a chaste kiss.
“I don’t know why I never showed you this room,” he says. “I suppose I’ve not wanted to share this with anyone before.”
“Thank you for sharing it with me.”
“You can come in here and borrow her books if you’d like. She had quite the collection of art books and women’s fiction, as you can see.”
I smile as my gaze travels across the bookca
ses lining the walls. A myriad of colourful book spines evoke a vivacious spirit. I never knew Olivia, but this room tells me she was full of life. “I would like that. Thank you.”
“No, thank you. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. Thank you for bringing me out of my shell and pushing me to live again. I know I have a ways to go, but with you by my side, I feel I can overcome this.”
A rush of love fills me. “I know you can, and I don’t care how long it takes. We have our entire lives to work together. I know you’ll never forget Olivia, and I wouldn’t want you to. But you can still have a fulfilling life. I know she would want you to.”
His eyes are brimming with tears when he takes me in his arms.
No, I don’t mind sharing him for the rest of my life. In fact, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
It’s a sunny spring day, and I finally get to wear my tall, black suede boots. I’m excited to get to work.
Just as I head out, the doorbell rings. It’s the UPS guy delivering a box. We get them all the time, so I’m not excited at first, but when I see that the box is addressed to me, my heart leaps. I know what this is. I can’t believe they’ve come so early – hard copies of my book. I grab one of them and head to work, giddy.
As I take a seat at my desk, I can’t quite focus on my to-do list for the day. I’m just so excited about my new book and upcoming launch party. I pull my book from my briefcase and set it on my desk. I flip through every single page, looking for errors. It seems I’m always searching for errors, which is probably why I’m a decent proofreader.
But the book is perfect. My heart swells with happiness and a sense of accomplishment. I’m so thankful August pushed me to do this. I never would have done it without his encouragement. It just seemed too overwhelming.
I want to thank him, but I know he’s busy writing. I try to never disturb him in the morning. The last thing I want to do is to break his creative flow, but I’m so eager to see him that the next few hours are unbearable. The minutes don’t move quickly enough; the sun doesn’t rise fast enough.
At one o’clock, I hop to my feet, my book pressed to my chest. I bound down the hall to his office, but he’s on the phone when I get there. I scowl inside. Whoever it is, I hope he gets rid of them soon. I say hello to Miko.
“Ruby.” He bobs his head up and down like a little rapper. I always smile at the sight of him.
“Yes, thank you for calling,” August says into the phone. “We’ll talk later.” He turns his attention to me as soon as he sets down the receiver. “Sorry, that was my editor.”
“No problem,” I say with a smile as I take a seat across him.
He tilts his head and cocks a brow. “You seem awfully chipper today. What have you got there?”
I’m so excited I practically throw the book at him. His eyes grow wide when he spots the cover.
He feverishly flips through the pages, not really reading the story or taking in the images, just capturing the creation as a whole. “It looks amazing.”
“I know! I’m so happy. It’s even better than I’d imagined. The illustrations are just as crisp as the originals.”
He settles his gaze on an illustration in the middle of the book. It’s one of my favourites – the family picnic, full of little details and fun stuff. As his eyes are glued to my work, I take the opportunity to take in everything about him: the curve of his perfect hair, his long lashes, the delicious five o’clock shadow, the slump of his wide shoulders under a plaid dress shirt.
“Your illustrations are stunning… so much attention to detail.”
“I think you missed the first page. You might want to go back,” I say cheekily.
He smiles at me and turns to the first page, where he sees my dedication to him.
For Eric,
Without your encouragement, this book would never have existed. You are as precious as these characters to me. Thank you.
He stares at it for the longest time, lost in my words, before he finally looks at me again. A hint of a smile traces his lips, and I know he’s flattered before he utters a single word.
“Thank you,” he says. “It was my pleasure.”
“Remember how I told you I was having a book launch party? Well, it’s next Saturday,” I tell him, full of excitement. “Amber is setting it up at our banquet hall.”
The quiet happiness in his expression fades, replaced by a rigid stance and wide eyes. He looks shocked. Maybe he thinks a party is a little too much. After all, this is just a self-published children’s book. My doubts start to catch up with me.
“I know it’s kind of silly,” I say, attempting to justify the party, “but Amber insisted. And we have the banquet hall… it’s not booked often this time of year. And Amber loves to cook.” I don’t know how he’s managed to do it, but in less than a minute, he’s succeeded at taking me from super happy to feeling like an idiot.
“I see,” he says quietly. “Makes sense, I guess.”
I can still see his reluctance. He obviously thinks this is a ridiculous idea, but I barrel on. “So anyway, if you’re not up to anything this Saturday, I’d love to have you there.”
He stills, and we sit in silence for a few seconds.
“Unless you’re busy…” I finally say, knowing that he’s not busy. The man is a recluse, for crying out loud. Of course he doesn’t have any other plans.
He winces as he leans closer to me. “It’s not that… I just can’t…”
Not this again. I feel my blood boil. He can’t skip my launch party. He must know what this means to me. “I understand you don’t like social events, but it would mean so much to me.” There, I’ve said it. Now he knows.
“I just can’t handle it… I assume there’ll be a fair amount of people,” he says, looking at my book. We both stare at the illustration of the picnic.
“There will be about fifty people, give or take. I’ll be there, and Amber and Aiden and Flynn… and Trevor,” I say. “You could just hang out with Trevor all night. You two seemed to get along famously.”
He smiles, his eyes still glued to my illustration. “It wasn’t easy for me… dinner at your place. I know it seemed like I had it all together, but I was kind of a mess.”
Hearing him say that breaks my heart. I’d thought he was doing so well, but I underestimated the extent of his anxiety.
“I’m sorry,” I say, but I’m still simmering. This is so frustrating – he’s not even trying. I thought he loved me. If he really loved me, he’d want to be there for me no matter how hard it might be. “But you promised me you’d make an effort. You said you’d fight to get over your anxieties. It breaks my heart to see you like this. I’ve given you all of me to help you, but how can I help you if you won’t help yourself? You can’t live like this. I can’t live like this.”
I know I’ve gone too far as soon as I spot his expression – the sweet, gentle man is gone. His mouth is tight, and his eyes are dark and intense. The man is livid.
“You’re pushing me too much. You push too hard, too fast. You seem to forget that I’ve been hiding for two years. And you expect me to forget about everything and just paint the town red with you?”
I bite my tongue and swallow my words. I close my eyes, reining myself in. I know he has a lot of issues to overcome. “It’s just… I work here so you don't have to leave. We have all our dates here so you don't have to leave. I haven't pushed for you to meet any of my friends or go to a movie with me or do anything else that you're not comfortable with. Why can't you compromise just this once?”
I’m met with nothing but silence, and it makes my blood boil. “I just don’t know if I can stick around if you won’t even try.” My words are harsh, but if I want to help him overcome his demons, I need to push him hard.
“You need to be more patient with me, Ruby. You said you’d always be there for me. You said you’d never break my heart, and look at you now,” he snaps. “At the first sign of trouble, you want to run.”
M
y heart sinks. I can see disappointment all over his face.
“I’ve held you in such high esteem. I’ve held you on a pedestal,” he says, his voice low and measured, the tone of a man who wants to be heard. “You’ve disappointed me, Ruby. I can’t tell you how much.”
My emotions flow so fast I don’t have a chance to gain control of them. As much as I want to be logical about this, his words get the best of me. I scramble out of my seat as I tear up, not wanting him to see my cry. “F-fine. You and your stupid bird can live happily ever after.”
I scurry out of his office, my heels clicking. I’ve left him my book because I’d intended to do so. I wanted him to have a copy. But now I want to run back in there and tear it out of his hands. He doesn’t deserve a copy. But I can’t do that because if I go back, he’ll see what a horrible mess I am.
Instead, I head out for a late lunch at my house. I need my sister.
“I know exactly what you need,” Amber says. “Your favourite – margaritas and nachos.”
I smile. “Margaritas and nachos for lunch?”
“Why the hell not? There’s nothing like a good margarita to heal a broken heart.”
I wouldn’t say my heart is broken. It’s just bruised a little. I feel like August and I have taken a few steps backward. This whole thing seems like a losing battle. “Sounds good.”
As we prepare the nachos, I tell her everything about August’s phobias, our history, and our altercation.
“I had no idea,” she says as she sprinkles cheese on the nachos. “He did strike me as very quiet, but I found that kind of sweet.”
I sigh. “He is sweet. He’s just so messed up, Amber. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to help him.”
She sets the plate of nachos in the microwave. “Do you love him?”
I nod. I don’t even need to reflect on the question.
“Then you need to try harder for him. I know exactly where he’s coming from. Losing a spouse, someone you’ve shared your life with for years, the most important person in your life… it’s a jarring experience. It breaks you apart. You need to be patient with him.”
