The Light Between Us (24 page)

He interrupted again.  “If you're about to ask me if I answered any calls from a certain guy that you ditched me for, then yes, I did.”

Ruth stared for a long moment, mouth twisting in perplexity.  “Why?” 

“
I don't know.  I shouldn't have.  But then I saw it was him calling and it was just an automatic reaction.  I'd answered before I'd even thought about it, practically.”  He sighed.  “I was going to be an ass, to mess with him, but . . . well, I don't like treating other people like that, no matter how much they might deserve it.”

Ruth winced.

“
So,” Sam continued, “I played it cool, and tried to tell him that you'd lost your phone, and that I could get it back to you.  But he just hung up.”

“
If you wanted to give it back to me, why didn't you just bring the phone to my place?  You know where I live.”  Ruth found herself blushing at the acknowledgment of their night together, wishing she could undo that, to keep Sam from getting caught up in all this mess.

He rolled his eyes.  “Look, I'm busy.  It's not like I have tons of time to make special trips to help out the girl who was just using me to make herself feel better.” 

“
I'm really sorry,” she said, wincing again. 

“
I would have dropped it by the next time I was in your area,” he said, the anger in his voice relenting a little.  “And I've kept it safe for you.  What else did you expect?”

“
I'm sorry,” Ruth said once more.  “You're right.  You certainly don't owe me anything.  Thanks for hanging onto my phone for me.”  She stepped out of line.  “See you, maybe.  Good luck with the poetry.”

Ugh
, she thought as she spun and headed out of the coffee shop, feet carrying her as fast as possible without breaking into a jog. 
Good luck with the poetry?  How lame
.

Still, she had her phone, clutching it in her hand in victory, and that was what she had come for.

But what now?  Somehow Ruth had thought that retrieving her phone was the key, that she could offer it to Derek as evidence of her fidelity.  But now that she had the phone in her possession, it felt meaningless.  It's not like it came with a written statement from Sam assuring Derek that they had very much not been together the night in question. 

Ruth paused, lingering on the street for a moment, causing pedestrians to swerve around her.  Maybe she could ask Sam . . .

But no.  She shook her head at the notion.  It would be a horrible thing to ask Sam for help, after all she'd already put him through.  Even if he did write such an affidavit, would Derek believe it?

And did she really want to be with someone that could not take her at her word?  The question snaked into her heart, and she realized that it was this very question that she'd been avoiding since she burst from Derek's office not long ago, hurt and seething and determined.

She began walking again, steps slow and heavy now.  The truth was that she was innocent of the betrayal Derek had accused her of, and that he didn't believe her when she assured him of her love for him. 

Was that a relationship worth fighting for?  Because if she had to beg him to accept her acceptance of his proposal, wouldn't she be signing herself up for a lifetime of having to constantly prove herself to the man who was supposed to believe in her more than anyone else in the world?

You don't want that
, Ruth told herself grimly, sorrow settling itself over her like a cloak. 
As much as you want
him
, you don't want that kind of a life
. 

She knew that this was the truth.  She knew that she was worth more than that because, ironically, Derek had shown her this more clearly than anyone else ever had. 

She knew she was better off alone than trapped in a marriage rampant with distrust. 

Ruth knew all of these things, knew that letting Derek go was a matter of self-preservation, self-love.  But she could not stop the tears from racing burning trails down her cheeks as she made her slow way home, heart heavy with a lifetime of splintered hope.

Chapter 15

Derek lay sprawled across one of the three voluptuous gray suede couches in his otherwise sparsely decorated apartment, arm crooked over his eyes.  Since Ruth's unexpected visit at the office earlier, he hadn't been able to regain his previous sense of satisfaction, and he certainly hadn't been able to think about anything else than the fire and then the hurt in Ruth's eyes.  Hurt that he'd caused.

“
But she deserved it,” he informed the ceiling of his apartment.  “She deserved it.”  The words sounded pathetic even to his own ears. 

And now it was Friday night – a full week since Ruth had come into his life.  A beautiful, nightmarish week.  He was ready for life to get back to normal – which meant all fun and no commitment when it came to women, without compromise.  That would be best. 

Would it?
a small but insistent voice piped up from somewhere deep inside of him.

Knocking thundered at his front door, making him jump.  He rolled off the couch, thankful for being saved from further consideration of his way of being with women. 
No commitments
, he told himself firmly, heading for the door. 
Period
.  It was safer, a lesson he'd learned the hard way twice over now.

Pulling the door open revealed Ridger standing on his threshold, a case of beer in each hand, with Sandra slouching at his side.

“
Hey man,” said Ridger, grinning.  “We thought you could use some pleasant company.”

“
And by that, he means booze,” Sandra said, shoving past Derek into his apartment.  He stepped back to admit his friend.

“
Obviously,” said Derek, he and Ridger exchanging a covert smirk at Sandra's inimitable sass.  “Come on in.” 

Ridger made for the kitchen area, stashing the cases in the fridge, extricating two bottles before closing the door.

“
Just two?” asked Derek as he accepted one, all three of them heading for the gray couches. 

“
I'm performing tomorrow night, so I don't want to drink.  To keep me as fresh as possible,” Sandra explained.

“
You never lack in freshness, love,” said Ridger with wiggle of his eyebrows, earning himself a smack across the arm. 

“
You've never gone off alcohol before for singing,” Derek said, taking a swig of his drink.

“
I'm trying something new.  Beer gums up my vocal chords.  And anyway, we're here to talk about you, not me.”  Sandra fixed him with a no-nonsense gaze.  “You called her, last night.”

Derek shifted beneath her gaze.  “Yeah,” he said, wincing.

“
And it fucked everything up, didn't it?”

“
Well –” began Derek.

“
Yes,” Ridger interrupted.  “You can't sugarcoat it, dude.  It really did fuck things up.”

“
Only because a
guy
answered her phone,” said Derek  “Only because
she
fucked it up.  By cheating.”

“
And you're sure that she was, you know,
actually
cheating?” said Sandra.             

Derek gaped.  “Are you serious?  What else could have possibly been going on?”

“
Oh, I don't know,” she said with sarcasm so strong he could practically smell it, “maybe she was unaware that said guy was answering her phone.  Maybe it was a misunderstanding. 
Again
.”

“
Oh,” said Derek, stomach churning uncomfortably at the memory of Ruth's visit to his office earlier.  “Right.”

“
Yeah,” Sandra snorted.  “
Oh
.”

“
Well . . .” began Derek, then shook his head.  “Never mind.”

“
No.  Speak.”  Sandra's words were a command, not a request.  “What were you going to say?”

“
Fine,” he said.  “Ruth sort of said that was kind of what had happened.  But –”

“
Wait,” said Ridger, waving his hands for Derek to stop.  “Back up.  So she actually gave you a legitimate reason as to why she wasn't the one to not answer her phone?”

“
She said she lost it.”

“
And . . . the problem is . . . ?” Ridger asked, face awash in incredulity. 

“
I just don't know that I can trust her.  I put my heart on the line, and she betrayed me,” said Derek more firmly than he felt.  “I'm done with her.”

“
You,” said Sandra, “are an immense idiot.”  She peeled herself off the couch and stomped into the kitchen.  She yanked open the fridge door and pulled out a beer for herself.  “I can't listen to this drivel sober, gig be damned.”

“
It is not drivel,” Derek protested.

But Ridger was shaking his head.  “Dude, are you hearing yourself?  I've got your back, man, but Sandra's right.  You are acting like an idiot.”

“
I am not,” said Derek with a scowl. 

Ridger leaned forward, clutching his beer in white-knuckled frustration.  “No, you are.  You finally –
finally
– met a chick that really means something to you, who is amazing, and who for some reason is as into you as you are into her.  I see you changing now that she's around, and they're all good changes.  She makes you happier than I've ever seen you.  You're better with her in your life – in your heart.”  He pounded his chest with a single thump.  “You realize you love her enough to marry her – only to throw it all away because of some confusion about shit that never actually happened?”  He leaned back with a snort.  “It sounds to me like you're looking for excuses.”

“
Excuses?”

“
Because you're scared.  Because you got your feelings hurt a little,” said Ridger.  “But wake up!  When the hell do you think you're going to find someone like Ruth again, or something like what's between you?  She sounds like she's one in a million, and you're just going to let her go?  That, my friend, makes you an idiot.”               

“
Preach,” said Sandra, nodding. 

Derek shook his head, as much against the growing unease that was unfurling in his gut as much as against Ridger's words.  “I don't know . . .”

“
Okay, I don't like to say this, because you know how not into gender-based derogatory shit I am,” Sandra said, squinting hard at Derek, “but you need to man up.  Love is scary.  Get over it.”

Derek took a long, gulping swig of his beer, relishing the acrid flow down his gullet and the heaviness of the alcohol as it hit his stomach.  He wasn't scared, that was ridiculous.  He was just –

Petrified
, spoke that tiny, indefatigable voice from inside of him.
In love
. 
Petrified of losing love. Of losing
her
.

He spluttered at the realization, at the warmth filling his belly that had nothing to do with the beer and everything to do with the blazing of uncomfortable, unwanted truth.

Well –
almost
unwanted. 

Yes, he wanted to run.  Run back to his old life, away from lovestruck marriage proposals and the first real burgeoning of hope within him in decades.  Because his old life was easier.  Uncomplicated.

But, Derek had to admit, Ridger was right.  With Ruth, he actually felt happy, happier than he could remember feeling in a long, long while.  He hadn't realized it until his friend had named it, and named it truly – in spite of his carefree, philandering attitude, he'd been unhappy.  Empty.

But with Ruth . . . with Ruth, it was the opposite.  He was full – of life, joy, of inexorable hope.  He felt more himself, even.  Better, as Ridger had said.  And hadn't Ruth told him that she'd been experiencing something similar?  He'd never believed in soul mates, but if they existed, then he and Ruth seemed to be made for each other, against all logic and reason.

And – he'd just thrown that all away.

“
Shit,” Derek said softly, feeling the blood rush from his face.  He raised his eyes to meet his friends' solemn gazes.  “You're right, aren't you?”

“
Never doubt it,” said Sandra airily, while Ridger nodded next to her. 

“
You're totally right.”  The truth of it settled over Derek like a choking, poison cloud.  “
Idiot
.  That is exactly what I am.”  He drained the rest of his beer and then heaved himself to his feet.  “We have to go out.  Beer is not going to cut it tonight.”

Ridger frowned.  “You're saying want to go get drunk?”

“
Precisely,” said Derek miserably.

“
Dude, you know that it's not too late, right?”

Derek shook his head, confused.  “Too late?”

“
To try to fix things.  With Ruth.”

“
I thought . . . I thought you said I'd thrown it all away.  That I'd ruined it.”

“
You did,” said Sandra, wrinkling her nose, “and badly, at that.  But she came to your office to fight for you, for your relationship, today.  So I'd say that she's willing to hear you out, at least.”

“
Make sure you grovel a bit,” offered Ridger, eyes gleaming playfully.  “The chicks love that.”  His words earned him a shove from his girlfriend. 

“
You – you really think that she'd take me back?” asked Derek slowly, carefully, as if each word was a potential landmine.

“
She might,” Sandra said with a shrug.  “And she might not.  But if what you guys have together is anything like how you've described it, then you'd be a fool not to try.”

Ridger stood up and moving to throw an arm across Derek's shoulders.  “You need to try, man.  We're rooting for you.”

“
He's
rooting for you,” Sandra snarked, pointing at Ridger.  “I don't give a shit either way.”

Ridger shook his head and muttered conspiratorially, “Don't listen to her.  She's a softie on the inside.  And she does care.”  Then he stepped away, toward the front door.  “We're going to go, okay?  To give you some space, to think and stuff.”

“
Yeah,” said Derek distractedly, nodding.  “Sure.  Okay.”

“
But if you
do
decide to go get wasted, call us,” said Sandra, getting to her feet.  “I wouldn't want to miss out on any of your misery.”  She glared at Derek for a long moment, then to his surprise she wrapped her arms around him in a quick hug.  “But,” she said, stepping away and shrugging, “I'd rather see you get the girl.” 

Derek's lips flickered up into a half-smile.  “Thanks.  Both of you guys.  Really.”  Gratitude and sorrow mingled within him, somehow glacial and searing in the same moment. 

“
You don't need to thank us, man,” said Ridger, swinging the front door open.  “Just fight for her, okay?”

“
Okay,” Derek replied, nodding, wishing he felt as sure as his words sounded.

With that, his friends swept out of the apartment and he found himself alone. 

And yet, he was not alone.  Derek felt as if Ruth was with him, filling up the space with her gentle vanilla scent.  And he also felt her absence, too, even more keenly.