Before Ruby’s parents divorced, she was a pageant girl to the max. Her mom was a doctor and, breaking the societal norms, her dad was the one who drove her over state lines to compete in whatever pageant she was in that weekend. She had the bright white teeth, so much hairspray it was a miracle her hair didn’t fall out, and an entire room dedicated to housing her evening gowns. I would tag along sometimes, and even though she denies it now, she really loved competing. She was the reigning champ for a reason.
However, when news of her dad’s infidelity came to light, something inside her snapped. She quit doing pageants and made it her mission to make every man who crosses her path pay for her father’s sins. Now she’s a divorce attorney who only represents women （and men or nonbinary people） divorcing their husbands. Countless therapists have told her she has displaced anger, but she still hasn’t made any moves to address it.
“Sheesh.” I hit the directional and turn right into the shopping center where Cool Beans is located. “You’re always so hard on the poor guy.”
“Oh please. I’ve given him ample opportunities to change his behavior.” I don’t even need to see her to know she’s rolling her eyes. “If he did his job like I’ve asked, there’d be no problems. I mean, really, how hard is it to knock before entering a room?”
If this was the first time I heard her talk to an assistant like this, maybe I’d buy what she’s selling. But we talk every day and I know that’s a complete load of crap.
“Ruby, come on.” I pull into a parking spot and put my phone back to my ear. “You’ve never liked a single one of your assistants. Is it possible that you’re the problem?”
“First of all, how dare you? Second, fuck off. If we’re talking about being our own problems, then are we going to talk about how you still haven’t opened your computer since you let Peter run you out of LA? Did you at least email that Reggie guy back?”
I knew I should’ve let her go to voicemail.
“Hold up. How did you being mean to Luke somehow turn into an attack on me?”
“Because if you think that was mean, then I’ve clearly been treating you with kid gloves for way too long.”
Ruby’s sent me emails about remote writing opportunities and has let me vent about my broken, humiliated heart without judgment. I knew it wouldn’t last forever, but I definitely wasn’t prepared for her to rip into me in a strip mall parking lot.
Up until right now, she’s danced around the subject of my ruined career and scumbag ex. I shouldn’t have told her about Reggie emailing me. He’s the only person from the industry who’s reached out to me, but the cynic in me can’t tell if he’s reaching out from genuine concern or morbid curiosity. It’s not fair to put that on him; he was the first showrunner I ever worked with and has never been anything but wonderful to me, but I’m still too nervous to email him and find out. It would be a hit I’m not sure I could handle to find out he’s not the person I thought he was.
“Please.” I turn off the car and grab my purse. “You don’t have kid gloves and you know it.”
Ruby has a strong left hook and a stronger right, and each punch is laced with an uncomfortable amount of truth.
“I do too.” The lawyer in her can’t help but argue. “If I didn’t, I would’ve already told you that it doesn’t matter that Peter screwed you over; you can’t just wallow in fucking Ohio and watch Little Mix reaction videos on YouTube all day. We got out of there as soon as we could for a reason. If you don’t get your crap together, who are you going to end up like?”
I’m about to launch a full-out defense of my Little Mix obsession—they should have hit it huge in America and I will never forgive the music industry—but it all disappears the moment my feet hit the sidewalk and I set eyes on the last person I ever thought I’d see today.
Scratch that.
The last person I wanted to see. Ever.
“Oh my god, Nate.”
“Exactly!” Ruby yells into the phone, obviously not grasping the severity of this situation. “You could end up like Nate the Snake! I wonder what he’s doing. Didn’t he say he wanted to be an accountant? What kind of teenager dreams of being an accountant?”
“No, Ruby!” I hiss into the phone, spinning out of view and plastering my back to a brick wall. “I mean Nate, here. At the coffee shop.”
“Oh shit.” She whispers into the phone as if he could hear her. “What’s he doing there?”
Admittedly, I don’t have any friends left here. But just because I don’t have friends doesn’t mean I don’t have archenemies.
I do.
And his name is Nathanial Adams.
I don’t need to explain why he’s the worst. The name says it all. Everything about him is stuck-up and overly serious.
“It’s a coffee shop; he’s getting coffee.” Because of course he is. God forbid one thing in my life not turn into a total, utter disaster.
“Well? How’s he look?” she whisper-shouts into the phone.
“Seriously, Ruby? That’s what you’re asking me right now?” The heat from the brick exterior is seeping through the thin cotton shirt I threw on before I left the house and people passing by are starting to stare.
“What? He was an arrogant jerk, but he was also super cute.” She may hate men, but she still very much appreciates them—to look at, not to talk to, she always tells me. “He’s not on social media and curious minds want to know how he’s held up over the years.”
“You’re ridiculous, and curious minds are going to have to stay curious,” I inform her. “I’m waiting out here until he leaves.”
“Let me get this straight. You’re hiding outside of a coffee shop to avoid a guy you didn’t like in high school and I’m the ridiculous one?”
Well, when she says it like that . . .
“Fine, I’ll go in.” I push off the wall and the slight breeze in the air instantly relieves my burning back. “But only because I’m starting to get a migraine from my lack of caffeine.”
“Tell yourself whatever you need.”
For a split second, I consider driving back home and settling for hazelnut sludge, but then I remember my parents’ need for alone time. Gross.
I shake away thoughts of what might be happening on the kitchen counters and draw in a deep breath before breaching the corner.
And because the universe absolutely fucking despises me, I run right into Nate.
“I’m so sor—” His deep voice ignites a fire in my veins. My body remembers him even though my mind has fought to forget everything about him. “Collins?”
“Nate.” The soles of my feet itch with the need to run, but I stand firm. Unfortunately for me, my stubbornness outweighs my desire for self-preservation. “Hi.”
“Oh my fucking god,” Ruby screams into the phone and nearly shatters my eardrum.
“Gotta go, bye.” I hang up before she can scream some more and pray to all that is holy that he didn’t hear her. But if the condescending smirk on Nate’s face is indicative of anything, he heard more than enough.