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"So are you," Banks says without hesitation. "If you don't mind me saying so."
This makes Ruby laugh and she slaps the back of the chair with one hand. "Do I mind being told that I'm special and that I defy the normal rules? Um, no, I do not," she says, shaking her head. "Thank you. But I have to admit that it's really difficult to see myself as someone who can both attract and keep the interest of someone as young and dashing as Dexter, particularly when I couldn't even keep the interest of my own husband."
The laughter falls away from her voice and from her face as she says this, and Banks's heart sinks just watching her. Jack's betrayal and his actions have done a number on Ruby that it will take time to properly undo--if it's even possible at all.
Banks exhales and leans forward, clasping his hands on top of the table again. "Listen," he says. "I'm going to speak freely because you've given me the impression that it's okay to do so here."
Ruby nods encouragingly, but visibly braces herself for whatever is coming next.
"I think Dexter is a stand-up guy," Banks says. He's looking directly into Ruby's eyes so that she knows he's being sincere. "And I certainly can't speak for all men any more than you can speak for all women, but I can say that some of us defy our gender's stereotypes. We aren't all looking at younger women and longing for our youth. Some of us do appreciate the way a woman ages like fine wine. We want someone who can be a true partner to us, who brings life experience and wisdom to the table. There's something incredibly..." he pauses, gauging how she'll take this, "sexyabout a woman who knows her mind, knows her own body, and isn't afraid to be herself. I wouldn't trade any of that to spend time with a girl in her twenties or thirties. No way."
Ruby's face flushes. "Thank you for saying that, Banks."
"I wouldn't say it if it weren't true."
"Knock, knock!" A rapping on the open door accompanies this greeting and Ruby and Banks both turn their heads to see Sunday standing in the doorway with a bottle of red wine in her hands. "I found both of you!" she says, her smile lighting up her face. "This is perfect."
"Hey, Sun," Ruby says, looking down at her feet.
Sunday stops short in the middle of the kitchen. "Did I barge in on something?" She turns back to the door. "I can go--seriously. Just holler at me when you want me to come back."
"Oh, god, no," Ruby says, walking over to her friend and giving her a quick hug. She looks sheepish. "I was just bending your man's ear here, and he was letting me."
Banks feels a weird rush of joy at being called Sunday's man; it's been a while since he was anybody's anything, and it feels incredible.
"He's a great listener," Sunday says, setting the wine on the kitchen island and looking at the mess there. "Pasta? Must be a doozy. Should I pour the wine first, or do you just want to spill it?"
Ruby sinks back into her chair. "It's Dexter."
"Oh no." Sunday cringes and takes the chair next to Banks's seat so that she's looking directly at Ruby. The music has changed from Madonna to Prince in the front room, but they all ignore the wailing guitar in the opening of "When Doves Cry" as Sunday reaches across the table and takes Ruby's hand.
"It's nothing tragic," Ruby says, "he just wanted to kiss me."
Sunday nearly jumps out of her seat. "Girrrlll!" she squeals. "Yes!"
Banks turns his head quickly to look at Sunday--this is not the calm, settled woman of fifty-four that he knows and loves. Instead, she's become a teenager with a crush at the skating rink.
"Iknewhe was into you!" Sunday smacks the table triumphantly with an open palm. "I totally knew it."
"We seem to be fond of one another," Ruby says, "but there are obstacles, Sun."
"Oh, jeez," Sunday says, rolling her eyes. "Not the age thing. You gotta get over that, Rubes. Seriously." She's frowning like she's disappointed in her best friend. "Women need to stop acting like it's impossible for a man to find them gorgeous and interesting no matter what their age is. Do you think Leonardo DiCaprio runs around wondering whether his latest twenty-two-year-old girlfriend couldreallylike him? No, he just assumes that he deserves her affection."
"Maybe heshouldlook into that a little more," Ruby says.
"Perhaps, but all jokes aside, you need to give it a rest." Sunday is rarely this serious, but she's not smiling at all as she stares across the table at Ruby. "If a man says he wants to kiss you, then he wants to kiss you. Dexter has clearly been interested in you for months now--"
"As asubject, not as a woman," Ruby says. She puts her elbow on the table and starts to chew on the side of her thumb. "At least that's what I thought."
"Well, you were wrong, so readjust," Sunday says breezily. "Now what did you say when he told you he wanted to kiss you? Please, god, I hope you said yes."
"Uhhhh." Ruby bites down harder on her thumb. "Not exactly. I think I fumbled it. I started thinking about Jack."
It's Sunday's turn to stand abruptly and it looks like she might get up and walk right back through the open door, but instead she goes to the island uncorks the wine, then takes three glasses from the cupboard and pours.
She sets a glass in front of Ruby. "Drink. And listen."
Sunday grabs the other two glasses and brings them back for herself and for Banks, though he doesn't touch his yet. He's too enthralled by the bold-faced way women speak and listen. If there's a problem, they don't seem afraid to put it out there, and if one needs an ear or some advice, the other gives it. Neither seems the least bit self-conscious about being wrapped up in their emotions, and he's completely captivated by the way they're puzzling through this together.
