He hasn’t been invited to our Sunday family dinner yet, and I appreciate my family letting me make that decision for myself. It’s starting to fuck with my head a little, how perfectly Liam has integrated himself into my life within a matter of days.
It doesn’t even feel like we’re pretending to date. If I didn’t know better, I would believe we were in the early stages of a relationship, too.
“More tea?” the waitress stops by with a pitcher, pulling me from my straying thoughts.
I smile, feeling guilty for holding her table, and nod. The lunch rush is slowing down, so more tables will clear up soon.
“I almost think you should save most of the storage rooms and offices until the end,” I say.
He looks up at me, curious for my reasoning.
“Right now is the best time to start with the main stage,” I confirm his earlier thought. “It gives you the most time to make sure that’s perfect, and there aren’t any big performances until December. Anything Pippa has planned can be split between the two smaller studios.”
He nods. “That’s what I was thinking, but I wasn’t sure. God forbid there are any problems, but just in case, I want to make sure we’re never rushing the main stage.”
I look at the blueprints again and point at the concession area. “You should start these soon after. The kitchen is pretty outdated, and it’s an extra area she can use for the younger girls’ classes.”
His brows furrow in confusion before realization floods his face. He gently grabs my hand and pulls it a little to the right of where I was pointing. Electricity shoots through my wrist at the simple touch.
“That’sthe concession area.”
I crinkle my nose. Mockery doesn’t drop from his tone, the way it did when I’d make a small mistake with Stefan, but anticipation instinctively lingers. “Oh.”
“That’s a good plan,” he reassures. “Depending on how old we’re talking, that space might take longer than I expected.”
Trying not to preen at his encouragement, we go over the rest of the plans. He makes notes for his team. There are dates and budgets listed but I don’t overstep.
“As long as the main stage and this one—” I point to the larger practice stage, “—aren’t under construction at the same time, it should be okay.”
He’s scribbling a few numbers down. “I need to call Stanley,” he murmurs to himself. Glancing up with a boyish grin, he adds, “I’ll do that later.”
I shake my head and slide to the end of the booth. “I’m going to run to the restroom, so go ahead.”
His eyes move down my body—though I’m just in a baggy tee and leggings today—and he looks over his shoulder, finding where the bathrooms are. “Okay, I’ll be here. It won’t take long.”
His gaze follows me until I close the door. Rather than being heated, per usual, it’s protective and warm.
Since he’s talking with Stanley, I don’t rush. After I wash my hands, I take a moment to reapply my lip tint and rebraid my hair while I’m at it. I have a few more orders to finish up once we’re done, so I can’t let it loose yet. The waves that form after it’s been in French braids all day are my favorite, though.
As I’m tying the second one, the bathroom door pushes open. I glance up at the woman walking in before I do a double take. The door slams behind her as she stops in her tracks, the sound echoing through the small, silent room like a bourdon.
“Ruby,” I breathe out. It’s like approaching a wounded animal. “Hi. I’m Cal—”
She nods and offers me a meek smile. “Calypso, right. I remember you from the farmer’s market…” Her words trail off.
There’s no malice in her tone. Only a familiar type of exhaustion and defeat. She’s curious about me. The feeling is mutual.
“Your dress is pretty,” I say, a bit awkwardly.
She looks down and runs a hand over the pale yellow linen. “Thank you. It was a gift from Stefan’s mom.” Remembering that I’ve met her, she corrects herself, “From Martha.”
I unintentionally grimace at her name.
If there’s anyone I hate more than Stefan, it is the woman who raised him.
Ruby smiles with more sincerity than I’ve seen yet. “Martha is… quite a woman.” There’s no love in her tone.
“Martha is a bully,” I correct. “Possibly the woman who inspired the term ‘boy mom, derogatory.’”
