Chapter Twelve

Ruby

When we landed, we had to wait for a ridiculously long time for our luggage. We all took separate taxi cabs to the hotel with our parents. I had traveled a little if you counted moving states and visiting my granny in Canada. It was exciting. I was so busy staring out the windows and drinking in the view, I barely heard any of Mom and Aiden’s conversation.

The scenery overwhelmed me, awed by the tall buildings, and the hustle and bustle of the streets. I was just a simple country girl who felt out of her depth, like a little fish swimming around in the ocean.

“Would you like to take a tour tomorrow? Maybe go see the White House? I have a friend who gives sightseeing helicopter rides. Would that be something you’d be up for?” Aiden asked me.

I looked to Mom, who was smiling at me with encouragement.

“Yeah, that sounds awesome. I’ve always wanted to fly around in a chopper,” I buzzed with excitement.

“So, Ruby, are you looking forward to the competition?” he inquired.

I nodded. “Yeah, I mean, I’m a little nervous, but I’ve been preparing for this day for a long time. Gymnastics is a huge part of my life, and I want to bring home a trophy for Lakewood,” I replied, passionately.

“From what your mom has told me about you, those other teams have something to worry about.” He nudged the side of my chin with his knuckles.

I liked Aiden. I could tell he had that typical doctor’s attitude, wanting to make people feel better. He had kind eyes that lit up when he smiled.

He and Mom seemed to enjoy each other’s company, and from what I could gather, they both looked as if they wanted to be more than just friends. We arrived at the hotel late in the afternoon. As Mom and I unpacked our things, the conversation diverted back to Aiden.

“What do you think of Aiden?” Mom asked, dropping his name as casually as she could muster. But I could tell by how nervous she looked that my opinion of him really mattered to her. Aiden was staying in the room next to ours, and even though he couldn’t hear what we were saying, Mom chose to whisper. I was busy flicking through the TV channels as Mom organised our things.

“I like him, he’s nice,” I told her, honestly.

Mom bit her lip as she smiled, looking like a girl with a crush. “I think he ...”

“Looks like Thor. I know, he does, doesn’t he?” I giggled.

Mom eyed me with confusion. “I was going to say, I think he may be ‘the one’, Ruby. I haven’t felt like this since your father ...” Her voice trailed off before the realization kicked in, and then she asked, “Who the hell is Thor?”

I spluttered with amusement. “Nobody. Only the hottest Avenger there ever was,” I told her. “Captain America comes a close second,” I added, using my finger and thumb to measure an inch gap.

“A hot Avenger, huh?” Mom muttered as she typed something into her phone.

I watched, in a fit of giggles as Mom Googled who Thor was. Her eyes focused on the screen, her brows furrowing with deep concentration. She must’ve found an image of Chris Hemsworth in his costume because she suddenly grinned.

“Oh yeah ... I can see it,” she agreed.

We heard a light tapping on the door. Mom was busy scrolling through the images of Chris, too engrossed to notice anything else.

“I’ll get it,” I yelled, rolling off the bed and scrambling to the door.

As soon as I answered the door, I was greeted with an enormous bouquet of peach roses.

“Good afternoon, Miss Knight. These are for you, with compliments from Grant Enterprises,” the guy announced.

“Thank you.” I accepted them gratefully. “Look, Mom, I got roses from Mr. Grant,” I said, feeling the shock set in.

The guy who brought me the bouquet came back into the room carrying two large boxes with ribbons tied around them and placed them down on the bed. Mom tipped him some cash before looking at the flower arrangement.

“Oh, Ruby, those are beautiful. Is there a card?” Mom asked, rummaging through the roses until she found it.

“What does it say?” I urged; the suspense was killing me.

She opened the small golden envelope and pulled out the card.

“It says that Lakewood is proud of you, and on behalf of Grant Enterprises, it honors us that you are representing the team as Captain. Please accept this gesture as a token of appreciation.” Then Mom looked at the card and gasped. “Oh?”

“What?” My wide eyes locked on to Mom’s shocked expression, eager to know what else they wrote on the card.

“It says, we’re having dinner with Mr. Grant, in one hour, downstairs in the Plume.” Her face froze with shock. “It says, he had the women from the hotel’s boutique pick out something nice for us to wear. I take it, that's what’s in those boxes.”

She must’ve been thinking the same thing as me because she read my mind.

“We have to get ready,” she rushed her words.

We washed and changed in a hurry.

“How do I look? Is this too much?” Mom asked, sounding flustered. She turned from side to side in the full-length mirror, checking herself from all angles.

The dress that had been picked out for her covered the support bandages around her chest. It would be some time before Mom felt comfortable in revealing clothes again. Whoever chose this must have known that. Her reconstructive surgery would take a while to heal, and Mom had to take strong painkillers to help her cope with the discomfort.

“Mom, you look great, and don’t you dare take that lipstick off, it matches the dress.” I stood back and admired how beautiful Mom looked in the floor-length, halter-neck red gown.

She styled her hair in an elegant updo. Her red lipstick and flawless skin made her look like a movie star.

“Aiden will love it,” I muttered, trying hard not to grin.

Mom cleared her throat and started humming nervously as she sprayed perfume in the air and walked into it. She always did that, applying it to her neck and wrists, then sprayed the air, creating a fine mist to walk through.

We’d learned about diffusion in high school, where gas particles moved from a region of higher concentration to an area of lower concentration until the gas-filled the entire space.

I now appreciated what it meant as I hung my head through the window, gasping for air.

“Mom, Givenchy overload!” I complained as my eyes watered. “I can chew it. I can taste it in my mouth,” I whined.

“Ahh, shut up.” She swatted the air.

“Hey, come here and let me style your hair.” She picked up the hairbrush and pointed to the floor in front of her as if to say ‘get here’.

I stood in front of her as she brushed my hair. She was always careful not to get the brush caught up in the knots.

“Your hair is so long, you remind me of Rapunzel,” Mom cooed with affection.

“Do you think you and Aiden will get together?” I inquired, looking at her reflection in the mirror.

She had stuffed hair grips into her mouth. Her brows creased in deep concentration as she used the grips to fix my hair into place.

“Well, I was hoping so. Why?” she asked, meeting my gaze in the mirror. The remaining grips that protruded through her lips hampered her speech.

“No reason.” I smiled back, innocently.

She took the last grip out of her mouth and placed it into my hairstyle.

“Hey, nothing changes between us, alright? I don’t have to go out with Aiden if it’s going to make you unhappy.” Mom sounded serious.

“No ... it’s not that, Mom. I like Aiden,” I clarified.

“Change could be good for us, and he makes you happy, right? What I’m saying, Mom, is that I think you should go for it.” I met her gaze in the mirror’s reflection.

“Marry Thor, Mom!” I joked, causing Mom to laugh at my comment.

“Here, you’re done,” Mom said, still grinning. She sprayed some hairspray onto my braided crown hairstyle.

I stared at my fresh-faced complexion in the mirror. The dress that they had given me was pretty. It was made from sky-blue lace with a layer of material underneath; it stopped at my knee and was embellished with crystals around the bodice. I’d worn nothing this expensive before.

“Are you ready?” Mom asked, holding the door open.

“Yeah, we better not keep Mr. Grant waiting,” I replied in a way that suggested he was a big, scary boss.

Mom chuckled.

“He’s nothing like his father, Ruby; he’s nice. And he’s young for a CEO. I mean, he’s like ... Twenty-five or something like that,” Mom mentioned, as we waited for the elevator.

The elevator made a ‘ding’ sound as it stopped on our level. I didn’t notice the doors opening.

“He’s rich though, isn’t he? This Mr. Grant junior," I asked, paying attention to Mom. "Aren’t most rich guys pretentious snobs?” 

Mom coughed and my eyes snapped towards the open elevator. Standing inside was a handsome, well-groomed man in a stylish suit. And he was grinning straight at me.

Who is that?