Page 12 of Freeing Ruby

“I don’t have an opinion yet. I need evidence before I can make any kind of determination.”

“My father thinks it’s all in my head. He thinks I’m crazy. Or that I’m making this up for attention. Trust me, the last thing I want is attention.”

“From what I hear, your father’s not the most open-minded person.”

I chuckle. “That’s an understatement.”

“What about Edward? He seems like a great guy.”

“He is. He’s the only one who gives me unconditional support. My mom met both my dad and Edward when she was in college. In fact, she dated both of them. In the end, she married my dad, but still, she and Edward remained close friends, even after they all graduated. I don’t think Edward and my father liked each other very much, then or now.”

“Why do you say that?”

“My parents fought a lot, and sometimes it was about Edward. I would hide in my bedroom closet during their many screaming matches, but I could still hear bits and pieces of what they were arguing about. Edward’s name came up a lot.”

“Your mom and Edward… was there ever anything going on between them? They sound like they were pretty close.”

“I don’t think so. Edward and my mother truly loved each other, but it was definitely a platonic sort of love. I think she got more emotional support from him than from my father, and my dad resented it.”

When the kitchen timer goes off, Miguel grabs the oven mitt. “I’ll get it.”

I step back as he opens the oven and pulls out the pizza pan. He sets it on top of the stove.

While the pizza cools a bit, Miguel offers to help me set the table. It’s weird because I’m not used to having help. I hand him plates and silverware, and he puts them on the table.

Miguel opens the fridge. “What would you like to drink?”

“I have sparkling water. I’ve got beer in there if you want one. Help yourself.”

“Thanks, but no. I’m on duty. No alcohol. Sparkling water is fine.”

I guess that means he won’t be drinking any alcohol for the foreseeable future—at least as long as he’s here. He may regret that.

After I cut the pizza, Miguel brings over our plates, and I lay two slices on each one. He carries our plates back to the table, and I grab our drinks. I’m struck by how well we work together, how naturally it comes. It’s kind of nice having help.

Miguel takes a bite of his pizza and moans dramatically, making me laugh. “This is really good. You could definitely give the pizzerias in town a run for their money.”

“Thanks. It’s no Gino’s or Giordano’s, but it hits the spot.”

Miguel initiates conversation at the table, asking me about the neighborhood, asking me how I like Wicker Park. He tells me he has friends in the neighborhood—a woman, Molly, who owns an art studio. “You should meet her sometime. I think you’d like her. The book I was reading earlier was written by her husband, Jamie McIntyre. He’s a former Navy SEAL, now an author of military thrillers.”

After we’re done devouring the pizza, we clear the table and carry our dishes to the sink.

“Do you prefer to wash or dry?” he asks.

“You’re offering to help?”

“Of course. In my family, everyone pitches in. I’ve been washing dishes since I was tall enough to reach the sink.”

“Thanks. I’ll wash, if you don’t mind.” I pull a clean kitchen towel out of a drawer and hand it to him. Then I fill the sink with hot soapy water and start washing. “Do you have a big family?” I don’t know why I’m asking him personal questions, but it’s so easy to talk to him.

“I’m the oldest of eight kids—four boys and four girls. Then there’s my parents, all four grandparents, and more aunts, uncles, and cousins than I can count. Most of us live here in Chicago. We’re a pretty tight knit group.”

“I can’t imagine having that much family around. I’m an only child, so it’s just me and my—my dad. And mostly now it’s just me.” I frown. “For my birthday last year, Edward brought me a cake he made himself. My father forgot entirely.”

Miguel’s smile falls. “That’s awful.”

Mentally, I shake myself. “No, it’s fine.”

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