There’s a beat or two of silence, before everyone registers Ruth’s words and responds all at once.
“Excuse me?”
“You did what?”
“Why, Roo? What’s going on?”
“This conversation needs tequila.” Amie’s voice grows more distant and cupboard doors open and close quietly, before a stack of shot glasses and a glass bottle appear in my periphery. Paloma takes a glass and the bottle immediately.
“I hated it,” Ruth whispers quietly. It’s so quiet that, for a moment, I wonder if she even said it at all. Or if anyone else heard it but me. But she has everyone’s attention, even Jay, who had been stretching both legs in turn whilst using the wall for stability. He returns to his seat on the sofa, resting one large hand on Ruth’s shoulder.
“You never said anything, Rooey. Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I didn’t want you to hate me.”
The fissure in my heart grows, becoming more a canyon than a creek, until eventually, it breaks. It only took seven words.
“We could never hate you, Roo,” Katy says with a sniffle. She leans forward, tipping onto her knees and crawling along the sofa until she’s pressed against Ruth. I catch her eye over Ruth’s shoulder and she shakes her head slightly, tears streaming down her cheeks, leaving dark mascara stripes in their wake.
“I’ve let you down. I’ve let everyone down. I’ve wasted all of it, I’ve ruined everything.” Ruth sniffs loudly before more tears soak through my shirt. Katy cries against Ruth’s back, holding on to her friend, and Jay embraces them both.
“What have you wasted, exactly?” Paloma twists the cap off the tequila bottle and I wince as the potent aroma tickles at my nose.
“Everything. Time. Money. Everyone’s support. My potential.” The last word elicits a sardonic snort as Ruth curls into herself.
“We didn’t support you just to be a lawyer, Roo,” Amie says soothingly. It sounds like this might be her mom voice. It sounds like the kind of tone my mom used to use whenever Ashton or I had bad dreams and needed some comfort. “We supported you because we love you. Lawyer or not.”
“And we’d do it all again,” Paloma adds. “Here.” She nudges Ruth’s hand behind my back. It’s only when Ruth shifts, pulls her hand towards herself that I realise Paloma has pushed a shot glass filled with tequila into it.
“Lo, it’s ten in the morning,” Katy laughs through her own tears.
“Five o’ clock somewhere, babes. Bottoms up.”
Ruth brings the glass to her lips and downs the shot with a shudder and a heavy exhale. Immediately, I take the chance to grab her chin between my thumb and forefinger, angle her face towards mine, and dip my head to crush my mouth to hers. Nothing has ever tasted so good as expensive tequila on my wife’s lips at ten in the morning after a sleepless night of travel and three weeks with only the memory of her kiss.
“Ev,” she whispers, breaking away. Her eyes are dark, pupils blown wide. The familiar pang of smug satisfaction ripples through me as I see the kiss affected her just as much as it did me. I adjust my position, shifting my weight as I kneel on the rug and trying to pretend that one kiss didn’t make me almost painfully hard. “What are you doing here?”
The sudden clarity in her eyes says she’s only just realised I’m here.
“You, baby girl. I’m here for you.”
Chapter forty-seven
Ruth
The six of us—seven,if you count Pup—sit quietly for a while. Pup snores; sweet, snuffly little snorts coming from his nose with every breath, and both Paloma and Katy watch him with heart-shaped eyes as he adjusts his head on his paws. Amie is engrossed in something on her phone, leaning against the breakfast bar, and periodically glancing around the room. I’ve been sandwiched between Jay and Everett for over an hour, safe in the arms of two of the three men I love the most. Taking strength from them both as they hold a hushed conversation above my head.
I turn my face into my husband’s solid chest and he dips his head, pressing a kiss into my hair. A quiet jingle cuts through the quiet as Pup wakes and stands, shaking his entire body before he trots over to Jay. He stands at my brother’s feet and stares up at him, lifting and replacing a paw impatiently.
“Gonna go take him out,” Jay says, carefully pushing himself to his feet. He takes a few unsteady steps, using the back of the sofa for support, before shaking out his right leg and continuing. He crosses the room to kiss Katy before leaving, Pup hot on his heels. As the door clicks shut, Amie looks up, and Paloma swings her feet from the sofa to the floor.
“Come on, then,” Paloma pats Katy on the thigh. “Let’s sort this place out.”
Katy washes the breakfast dishes while Paloma gathers my blankets from the sofa and throws them in the washing machine, along with my bedding. She replaces the sheets with my favourite set—burgundy brushed cotton—and then wipes down everything in my bathroom whilst Katy does the same in the kitchen, before vacuuming. Jay returns from walking Pup just as Amie looks up from her phone.
“It’s coming between three and five, Roo. Go and shower, get some proper sleep. In a bed, please, not on the sofa. And order yourself some real food. There’s thirty quid on the coffee table, that’ll get you a pizza. Everett, make sure she eats something.” She’s like a drill sergeant, barking orders in her mum voice.
“What’s coming? What?”
