The mountains and the calm mirror of the lake far below are breathtaking.
Literally. For a second I can’t breathe. It’s just too perfect.
“You like?” Jesse drops our bags in the bedroom and then comes to stand beside me, his arms around me the only thing that could make this moment more beautiful.
I lean back against his chest. “I love. It’s crazy fancy and you shouldn’t have spent all this money, but . . .” I glance over my shoulder with a grin. “But I really, really love it. I’m never going to forget this trip. Never ever.”
A shadow crosses his face—there and gone in an instant.
That’s odd.
I could swear I saw that same shadow when we left the cabin. I’d chalked it up to him not looking forward to telling Rachel that we were leaving early, then, but now . . .
Now, I wonder if maybe he’s bummed. That maybe I ruined his plans.
I turn in his arms. “Hey . . . if you want to try camping again tomorrow night, we can. We have two nights, right? I can definitely psych myself up for sleeping in the woods. I don’t want you to be disappointed.”
“I’m not disappointed,” he says, his voice soft and low and weird.
I frown. “You look disappointed.”
He sighs, and his hands fall from my hips. “Ruby . . . we need to talk.”
My stomach twists into a hard, aching knot, without my even knowing what it’s about. That is not a good tone. That is an “I’m about to say things you’re not going to like” tone.
I step back, trying to keep my expression neutral even as my pulse begins to race. I have to remain calm. The only thing worse than getting dumped is knowing the person doing the dumping can see how much they’ve hurt you.
How much you want to not be dumped. How much you wish you were still going to bed with him tonight.
That has to be what this is about.
Jesse must realize I’m starting to have more-than-friends feelings. Bet he feels obligated to let me down easy before I wade any deeper into the love ocean I’m already swimming in.
My face flushes hot even as my hands go cold, shame rushing in so fast there’s no chance to head it off at the pass. The best I can do is try to breathe through it as I ask, “About what?”
Jesse rakes a hand through his hair and nods toward the balcony. “Should we sit outside? It’s nice out there.”
I cross my arms over my chest and nod. “Okay. Sure.”
I follow him into the cool, sweet evening air, settling into a wicker chair with a cushion so soft it cradles my bottom like a lover’s hands.
Like Jesse’s hands.
If he weren’t looking at me like he’s afraid I’m about shatter into a million pieces, I would make a joke about it.
But nothing is funny right now. And I can’t handle another second of waiting for the hammer to fall.
“Please, just . . . tell me,” I say, my voice wobbly. “I hate suspense.”
He pulls in a deep breath. “Yeah, me too, I just . . .” He shakes his head. “I don’t know how to start.”
“Start at the beginning,” I say, forcing a lighter tone as I add, “and when you get to the part that’s going to make me sad, stop right before that.”
His lips twitch but don’t come anywhere close to a smile. “You read me pretty well.” He leans forward in the chair next to mine, elbows braced on his knees.
“It’s not that hard. You look like your dog died.”
“You know I’m a cat guy,” he says, still stalling. “Going to adopt a few when I get to L.A. Finally feel ready again.”
Jesse’s cat, Mustang Sally, died of old age a few days after the accident, while I was still in a coma and Claire was awake in the hospital. When everyone thought I was going to be the one to die. But then a blood clot took Claire and I woke up.
Our nightmare had a twist ending.
A shitty twist.
“I like cats too,” I whisper, “but I don’t want to talk about them right now. Whatever it is, I can handle it, Jesse.”
I hear the words emerge from my lips and realize . . . they’re true.
I can handle it. Even if Jesse dumps me like Chad did, I can handle it. And it wouldn’t be like Chad, anyway. Jesse and I were never a couple. And Jesse and I will still love each other, even if we decide never to kiss again.
And yes, I really want to keep kissing him. I would gladly kiss him and only him for the rest of my life, actually. I’d make that bargain with the kissing gods without a beat of hesitation.
But what we have is much more than sex.
We are forever—one way or another.
It’s so clear to me that I follow my gut and reach out, taking his hand, curling my fingers around his warmer ones. I wait until he lifts his gaze to mine and say, “Whatever it is, it’s okay. I’m always going to be your friend. I wouldn’t know how to stop. You are forever for me. Even if you move away and never come home, you’re going to be in my heart.”
Pain flickers across his face. He drags in a ragged breath. “Claire gave me the list after the crash. Right after. We were in hospital and you were in a coma. Her back was so messed up I had to help hold her arm while she wrote . . .” He swallows and blinks faster, his eyes beginning to shine. “She said it was going to be magic. That it would bring you back from wherever you’d gone. That somehow, you’d see how much life you had left to live and you’d come back to her. To us.”
I sit back, my hand sliding from his as I connect the dots. My blood stills. “The list . . . you mean . . .”
He nods, his throat working. “I didn’t find it while I was cleaning up her room like I said. I’ve had it for two years. She made me promise to give it to you the second you woke up. Like, if she was asleep or something and I knew you were awake before she did. But then she . . .” He presses his lips together. “She died. And you woke up and we had to tell you that she was gone and . . . I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t see that list doing anything good for you at that point. I thought . . .” He sighs, shrugging stiff shoulders. “I thought it would break your fucking heart the way it broke mine.”
My jaw cramps, the back of my nose fills with razorblades, and my vision swims with tears. I sit frozen, torn between crawling into his lap and hugging him tight—so tight, offering every bit of comfort I can—and a voice in my head shouting that this isn’t okay.
That it wasn’t his choice to make.
That he made a promise and he broke it, keeping Claire from me for two miserable years. This list has brought my best friend in the universe back to me, made me feel her presence in a way I haven’t in ages. I’ve been so lonely and lost, and now . . .
Now, I feel whole again, the way I did when Claire was alive. When I could call her up any time of the day or night and get advice—or just the patient ear of someone who knew me inside and out, and loved me just the way I am.
“I’m sorry,” Jesse adds, his voice a minefield of emotions—none of them good ones. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”
But he wasn’t. He wasn’t at all.
“Why did you tell me that you found it?” I don’t bother to mask the hurt I feel everywhere. “Why lie, Jesse? You don’t lie. Ever. Why start with me?”
He leans closer, his pleading eyes locking with mine. “I know. And I’m sorry, Ruby. I swear. I didn’t want you being angry with me to get in the way of something you needed. The past few months, seeing you healthy and strong, but still with no light in your eyes, no sign that you were ever going to be the person you were before . . .” He scrubs a hand restlessly over his jaw, over and over. “It became pretty clear that Claire was right. You needed that list. And my gut said you wouldn’t be brave enough to do it without me.”
Teeth digging into my bottom lip, I rise and cross to the balcony railing. Below our suite, kids chase fireflies in the grass as their parents spread out picnic blankets on the lawn in front of a huge screen set up on the far side of the hotel grounds.
A movie
night. It’s charming.
Claire would have insisted we go down and join in. She’d have filled her water bottle with Chardonnay from the mini fridge. I’d have grabbed an extra blanket from the closet, and we’d have snuggled up on the grass under the stars and whispered and giggled our way through the entire movie.
That’s who Claire was.
She was the leader.
I was the follower. A happy follower, but a follower, nonetheless. If I’d been here alone for some reason, I would have stayed in my room.
I would have been worried about being the only solo adult. Been more concerned about curious glances or pitying looks than enjoying myself.
Than doing what I wanted to do.
Or at least, I would have before the list.
Things are different now. I’m different.
I’d smuggle Chardonnay and watch a flick under the stars.
I’d do it alone.
I’d do it because of the list.
Because it did everything it was supposed to do—it brought me back, better than I was before.
The list made me possible.
The me I didn’t know I wanted to be. But the me I . . .
The me I love.
I turn back to Jesse, still hunched in his chair. “You’re probably right,” I say softly. “But that wasn’t your call to make, Jesse. None of it was. It was Claire’s call. And mine.”
He stands but doesn’t move any closer. The sorrow in his eyes, the resignation in the set of his jaw—they say he’s not going to argue on this count. “You’re right. I was just trying to do what was best for you.”
I huff. “But that’s not your job. I’m not a child. I don’t need or want other people making decisions for me.”
Jesse’s brows pinch together. “But isn’t that what the list is, in a way? Claire telling you what to do? What you need to be happy?”
I shake my head. The list has given me whiplash at times, but in a surprisingly good way. “No. She presented me with an opportunity. What I did with that opportunity was up to me. Or it should have been.” I take a beat, letting my thoughts take shape fully. “I understand that you were trying to be protective and kind, but . . .” I swallow. “Do you know how often I’ve wondered what was going through her head after the crash? Wondered what she was thinking when I was lying there unconscious and she was awake and not sure if I was going to make it?” My voice falters, tripping over itself.
“I told you, she couldn’t stop talking about you,” he says, just as wobbly. “She—”
“It’s not the same,” I cut in. “It’s just . . . not. You’re right—I probably wouldn’t have felt up to tackling that list, not for a long time, but having it with me . . . being able to put it up on my fridge and look at it every day when I went to get cream for my coffee . . . when I went to physical therapy . . . when I was still struggling to get around Brooklyn in a wheelchair. It might have made a difference then. Back when I was empty and lost.” Tears slip down my face.
“I’m so sorry, Ruby.” He starts toward me, but I hold up a hand and he stops mid-step.
“I know you are, and . . . I’m not mad, not really.” I pull in a deeper breath, swiping the tears away, and I square my shoulders. “I’m just sad. And disappointed. And . . .”
And what?
24
Ruby
But as soon as I ask the question, the answer comes.
Determined is the word on the tip of my tongue.
I am determined.
Determined not to let this new grief break me. To stay the course. Claire set this in motion, Jesse helped me get started, but this journey is mine to finish. And I have to do that on my own.
I’m okay with it.
Truly, I am.
Just like I was sure I could go to the movie alone, now I can finish the list by myself.
That’s what I need to do.
“I think I should go,” I finally say with that determination. With strength. “The ferry runs until midnight, right? If you can give me a ride from there back into the town we passed a few miles back, I can catch a train to New York. I saw an Amtrak stop.”
He shakes his head. “Please, Ruby, don’t. Can’t we work through this?”
My lips curve up a little. “Of course we can. And we will, but I have work to do first. I need some time, Jesse. To think. To feel. To . . . deal with my shit because it’s mine to deal with.” His eyes well with sadness, but I won’t let them sway me, either. “Like you said earlier about the whole ‘who can say’ thing. I can say. And it’s time I did.”
“At least let me drive you home,” he insists. “I can get another room tonight, and—”
“I’d rather not,” I say gently. “No offense, but I’d rather not be around you right now. Especially not four hours in the car. I need space for feelings that don’t have anything to do with you.”
He holds my gaze for a long moment while my heart squeezes sadly in my chest. But then he nods and whispers, “I’ll go, then.”
“No—”
He gestures to the gorgeous room. “Please. I want you to have this. Consider it part of my apology. Stay, enjoy the room and the pool and . . . I think the hotel has a shuttle at the end of the ferry to take you to the train station when you’re ready, but I’ll check for sure before I leave.”
“No, I’ll handle it,” I say. “I’ll either get a shuttle or call a taxi. I can figure out how to get to the station by myself.”
Jesse’s mouth hooks up on one side. “Of course you can. You can do anything you set your mind to. I truly believe that, Ruby. I don’t doubt it at all.”
“Thanks,” I say, tears stinging my eyes again, but I don’t let them fall. I sniff and cross my arms over my chest and hold myself together as Jesse grabs his things and heads for the door.
“Bye, Ruby.” He casts one last look of longing my way.
Part of me wants to run into his arms.
But that part doesn’t have the wheel.
This part does—the new me. The me I am on the other side of loss, the other side of rehab, the other side of pain.
As soon as the door closes, though, I do cry—hard—for a good twenty minutes. Then I pull myself together, make a bowl of popcorn in the room’s mini-microwave, and head down to the movie with my eyes still puffy. I spread my blanket on the lawn and settle in for Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, one of Gigi’s favorites.
It feels like a sign.
Pulling my cell from my pocket, I shoot my cousin a text, sharing my not-so-happy news and current location, just in case I’m eaten by wild boars while watching a movie on the lawn. Unlikely, considering we’re on an island, but the way my luck is going today . . .
A few minutes later, she texts back.
* * *
Gigi: I just checked the train schedule. I can be there by ten tomorrow morning.
* * *
Touched, I reply, assuring her that I’m fine and can make my way back home on my own after my two-night—now solo—trip is over.
But she’s having none of it.
* * *
Gigi: Of course you can. But why should you when you have a perfectly amazing cousin and friend who wants to be there for you? And with you. I will fetch you piña coladas by the pool, and we don’t have to talk about anything if you don’t want to. Or we can talk about my crappy love life to distract you.
I saw Theodore last night at the block party. He walked right by me like I was invisible. Even though I was glaring daggers into his goatee and wearing a bright yellow dress with insane amounts of cleavage out on display. Am I invisible, Ruby? Are you my imaginary friend? Am I hallucinating my own existence?
* * *
Ruby: No, you are not! You are a shining fucking glitter moonbeam goddess! And Theodore’s a dingbat. Come up. I’ll fetch YOU piña coladas by the pool.
* * *
Gigi: No way. I was just kidding. I wasn’t trying to make this about me. Seriously.
* * *
About her . . .
When was the last time it was about her?
Probably before the accident. Gigi has been there for me hardcore during the past two years. It’s high time I returned the favor.
* * *
Ruby: Why shouldn’t it be ABOUT YOU? It’s been about me for long enough, babe. And I don’t need a shoulder to lean on. Truly. I just need to think some things through. And to be honest with myself.
* * *
Gigi: I could stand to do some of that too.
* * *
Ruby: Brilliant. Text me when you reach the lobby, and I’ll come down and show you up to the room.
* * *
Gigi: You don’t think Jesse will mind? What if he comes back?
* * *
Ruby: He’s not coming back. He’s gone.
* * *
And it’s true . . . he is. And I’m so very sad about that.
But this was the right thing to do. The work I have to do now isn’t something Jesse, or any man, can help me with.
The list forced me back into the driver’s seat in my own life.
Now it’s time to steer.
25
Ruby
By the time Gigi and I board the train back to the city two days later, I’m certain of three things.
* * *
Piña coladas are medicinal and healing.
It’s time to shake up my life. Big time.
Gigi is an even better friend than I realized before we spent two days pondering life’s mysteries in side-by-side lounge chairs.
* * *
“So you’re saying you’ve known since I took over as office manager?” I ask around a bite of the semi-stale Amtrak station croissant I grabbed on the way onto the train. “Seriously?”
Good With His Hands Page 16