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“Heck no. I want him to cook me a birthday cake every single year from now on.” I laugh.
“Because you’re going to be with him every single year from now on.” Rowan nods.
It hits me like a tidal wave. She’s right. That’s what I want. I want to be with him. I want a relationship. I want real dates. I want to wake up next to him every morning. I’ve been coming up with a million excuses, and none of them make any sense. I mean, I want to go into publishing, and I’m in New York City. Why would I look elsewhere? Because I’m running away from Paxton, and love, and the possibility of pain.
“Now, you know what a grand gesture is, right?” Rowan continues.
“Like when Mason dressed up like a frog and skated around in public to declare his love for you?” I laugh ruefully.
It was all based on a childhood story that we both loved.
“That was special.” Rowan flashes him a look that he returns, and I’m struck yet again by how perfectly attuned to each other they are.
“Yes, Rowan. I read romance novels and I watch movies and I’m majoring in English lit. Of course I know what a grand gesture is.”
She points at the pile of paper that’s now sitting between us on the couch. “This is Paxton’s grand gesture. The cake, this research he did... He showed up for you, Ruby. And he laid his heart on the line. He wasn’t going to get anything out of it—he knew you wouldn’t be in the mood to hang out—but he also wanted to let you know that he was thinking of you. And he dug up that evidence on the professor and showed you step-by-step how to take him down, because he cares about you and wants to protect you.”
“He did.” My heart swells in my chest as I think about it.
“So. What’s your grand gesture going to be?” Rowan asks.
I wince. “Oh, fudge. I have to make a grand gesture back?”
“Yes, you do, because you’ve been running away from him and pushing him away, and he was still there for you. He deserves a grand gesture. He needs to know that you’re all in.”
I lean back and frown in thought. “Okay. I can’t just buy him a present from Hudson’s.”
“Nope, because you can’t afford it,” Rowan points out.
I flip her the middle finger. “Rude. Also true. But my point is, it also it needs to be something special and personal.”
“Yes, it does.”
I frown in thought.
“Does it have to be public?”
“Hmm. Not necessarily. It has to be personal, though, and very meaningful to him. I mean, even if you could afford something from Hudson’s, he’s making so much money he could swim in it. He wants for nothing. A hand-drawn card would mean more to him than a fifty-thousand-dollar set of golf clubs.”
“They sell fifty-thousand-dollar golf clubs?” I say, appalled.
She shrugs. “Probably. Maybe. I don’t know. I hate golf, but I feel like gold-plated diamond-encrusted golf clubs would be a rich-guy thing. Is it, Mason?” Rowan asks him.
He shakes his head. “Golf isn’t my game, and how would I grip a diamond-encrusted golf club?”
“All right,” I say, standing up. “I know what I’m going to do. I will tell you guys if it works. And if it doesn’t, you’d better stock up on the Rocky Road ice cream, Rowan.”
32
RUBY
“You’re sure about this,” Captain Santiago asks me for the dozenth time. A hot August breeze sweeps over us, rustling our hair and sending a crumpled-up newspaper skittering through the parking lot.
“I took Dramamine an hour and a half ago! I’ll be fine,” I promise him.
He gives me a skeptical look. “Do you mind if I wear a raincoat, just in case?”
“Oh, ha ha.” I inhale deeply. “Look at me, breathing in the lovely sea breeze, not turning green at all. Also, today is very calm. These breezes are mild, the water is not choppy, and I will not toss my cookies,” I assure him.
