Page 74 of Freeing Ruby

“Ruby?” Miguel’s voice is muffled by the door. He knocks quietly. “Honey, are you okay?”

But I can’t answer him. The tears continue to fall, and I can’t stop shaking, sobbing.

I hear the door knob jiggle, and then the door opens. I smile. He picked the lock.

“Ruby? Are you okay?”

I sigh. “I’m fine.”

Miguel peeks around the shower curtain and peers in at me. If he’s surprised to see me fully dressed, he doesn’t show it. “I was worried about you.”

I nod as rivulets of water stream down my face. My soaked clothes hang heavily on my body, weighing me down.

Miguel kicks off his shoes and removes his socks. He digs his wallet out of his back pocket and tosses it onto the counter. Then he steps into the shower with me, fully dressed. He pulls me into his arms and holds me tight. “It’s okay,” he murmurs into my wet hair. “I’ve got you. Everything’s going to be fine. You’ll see.”

“Edward’s probably my father.” Then the sobs increase in intensity. “He’s always been there for me, and he doesn’t even know I’m his daughter. Do you think he loved my mother?”

“Probably.”

“He must have been heartbroken when she died.”

Miguel kisses my forehead. “I imagine he was.”

“Do I ask him if it’s possible?”

“I think you need a good night’s sleep before you start making decisions about the future.” Miguel reaches around me to shut off the water. Then he grabs a towel from the rack and wraps it around me. “Let’s get you into bed, okay?”

I realize I’m standing here in my wet clothes. “Would you mind getting me a nightgown?”

“Of course not.” He steps out of the tub and quickly strips out of his wet T-shirt and jeans, until he’s left in only his boxer-briefs. He grabs a towel from the linen cupboard and quickly dries himself. “I’ll be right back.”

While he’s gone, I strip out of my wet clothes and rewrap my body in the bath towel. I step out of the tub and wrap my hair in a towel.

Miguel returns with a pale blue floral nightgown. “Is this okay?”

“Yes, thank you.”

He slips the nightgown over my turbaned head, and as he tugs the nightgown down my body, I let the towel fall to the floor.

While I brush my teeth, Miguel opens the vanity drawer and pulls out my comb, which he hands to me. I spit and rinse, then wipe my mouth on a tissue. Once that’s all done, I remove the towel from my head and start combing my hair.

“Here, let me,” he says, holding out his hand.

I give him my comb and stand in front of the mirror as he carefully untangles my hair. As he works on the long strands, I feel my pulse slowing to a more normal rate. I glance around the bathroom, which seems so familiar with all my things here, and yet it’s different. It’s a far nicer bathroom than the one in my apartment. The materials and the finishes are new and upscale, unlike the pink wall tiles in my apartment that date back to the forties. This apartment is both familiar and new.

Miguel’s reflection in the mirror makes me smile. He’s concentrating so hard on my hair—on not hurting me.

When he finishes, he lays the comb on the vanity. “All done.” He gathers the damp strands of my hair together, off my shoulders, and lays his hands on my shoulders, squeezing lightly. “You should get some sleep now. There’s a lot we have to do tomorrow. Detective Cartwright will need to speak to you, and then you’ll need to think about what you’re going to tell Edward.”

As I meet his gaze in the mirror, I’m overwhelmed with emotion. This man is the most caring—the most nurturing—person I’ve ever known.

I turn to face him, and he gazes down at me hesitantly. Almost warily. “What is it? Do you need something?”

My breath catches in my throat and butterflies careen inside my belly. Yes, there’s something I need.

Something I want.

Something I’m afraid to ask for—and yet I’m even more afraid of never having it. I’ve seen how Miguel looks at me. I remember full well the hunger in his kiss earlier this evening.

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