“He made this homemade sauce with all these fresh tomatoes and garlic and olive oil and ugh”—Ruby flopped back onto the quilts, holding her stomach—“it was so good.”
“Sound delicious,” Claire said. “Isn’t it time for bed?”
Ruby stilled and sat up, but it took a second to get her body to do what she wanted. She was all arms and legs, that awkward, lanky phase settling on her the last few months. “It’s summer.”
“I know, baby, but—”
“And I’m at Dad’s.” Her daughter glared at her, this withering stare that Claire had become very accustomed to lately. “Dad’s rules.”
Next to her, Josh cleared his throat. “Um, Rube—”
“We were about to watch Inside Out.”
Claire glanced at Josh, and he just smiled that ridiculous smile he always smiled whenever this happened. The one that said, I’m just a big dumb kid myself. What are you gonna do?
“It’s ten o’clock,” she said.
“It’s the weekend,” Ruby said.
Claire let her eyes travel over the fort. Ten o’clock was no big deal, she knew. Neither was ten thirty. Eleven, for an eleven-year-old, was pushing it. But a movie would last until midnight, and Ruby was a beast when she didn’t get enough sleep. Cranky and whiny and prone to tears at the slightest problem, all of which Claire would have to deal with tomorrow when Josh dropped her off. All of which he would know if he was part of their lives on any consistent basis. But now, sitting here in front of the, admittedly, most amazing blanket fort she’d ever seen, she’d be the bad guy if she said any of this. Just like she always was when it came to Josh.
“Rubes,” Josh said, leaning toward his daughter. “Maybe we should call it a night. Your mom’s right; it’s late, and we can watch a movie anytime.”
Claire pressed her eyes closed, waiting for that to land. She knew Josh was just trying to help, but now that he’d sided with her, he’d just put a stick of dynamite on top of a ticking bomb.
“Ugh, fine!” Ruby yelled, untangling herself from her own legs and crawling out of the fort and standing. She balled up her little fists, jaw tight. “Why’d you even come over here?”
“Ruby,” Josh said sharply.
“It’s just one night, and now you have to go ruin everything like you always do!” Ruby’s eyes brimmed with tears, and Claire’s heart lurched. It was true that over the past few months, her daughter had grown a little moodier, a little more temperamental. She’d read this was normal for her age—hormones were starting up, and god knew middle school was the worst few years in Claire’s own life, but this, these instant tears and the yelling over a simple bedtime suggestion, this happened every time Josh came to town. It’s like Ruby ran on a constant low level of panic, always worried he was going to leave, always waiting for him to leave, so that every moment he was actually with her felt like a rare jewel, a prize, and anything Claire did to try and maintain a modicum of normalcy was met with tantrums and eye daggers.
Claire stood, tried to reach out for her daughter. Sometimes a hug worked.
“I’m going to go brush my teeth,” Ruby said, slapping her mother’s arm away.
And sometimes it didn’t.
“Want to come and watch me and make sure I floss?” Ruby said.
Inside, Claire flinched, but she knew she couldn’t let Ruby get away with talking to her like that, no matter the circumstance.
“That’s enough,” she said.
And it was, apparently, because Ruby rolled her eyes and stomped off toward the hallway that led to the bedrooms. A door slammed, causing Josh to jump. Claire, she was used to it.
They stood there for a second in silence while Claire wracked her brain for what to say. She wanted to take her daughter home, tuck her into her own bed, and watch her sleep, but she knew that wasn’t an option. Not unless she wanted to declare war, and she didn’t. Not tonight.
Josh cleared his throat. “Hey, I’m—”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, turning and heading toward the door. She knew better than to even try to say good night to Ruby, and honestly, right now she was so pissed off, she didn’t trust herself. She hated fighting with her kid, but she hated this even more—this feeling that she was the boring parent, a stick in the mud, a wet blanket thrown over all the glitter and fairy lights of Ruby’s time with her dad.
“Claire, hang on.”