Good With His Hands (Good in Bed #1)- Lauren Blakely Page 0,60
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?