“Go on.” I mime zipping my lips.
“I did a lot of thinking the last two days, and a lot of talking. I realized that sharing the list with you has shown me so much. Mostly, how beautiful life is, even when it’s hard. And how much better every day is when you’re in it.” Her hand curls around my shirt now, like she’s putting all her strength into this, into the hard thing. “So, I’m here to say it. The thing I’ve never said to anyone else, never felt, because no one else could come close to this. To you. To us.” She draws in a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. “I love you, Jesse Hendrix, and that’s both the hardest thing and the easiest thing I’ve ever said.”
The way she stands tall, holding my gaze, the way she owns her words, is so damn beautiful. And it’s everything I’ve wanted for her for the last few years.
“This is the part where you talk,” she whispers after a beat. “And hopefully say really hard, easy things to me too?”
I cup her face, my breath rushing out as I assure her, “Yes. All the hard and all the easy.”
A smile bursts onto her lips. “Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah. I’ve been falling in love with you for the longest time, Ruby Valentine. That’s what I said in the note. That I love you. And that I’ll wait for you . . . if you’ll let me. I want to make this work. To make us work.”
Her eyes shine. “Like . . . us us? Like, you’re my sexy boyfriend? Even though you’re moving to L.A. and long-distance stuff is probably hard?”
I nod, relief rushing through my chest. “Yeah. But not too hard. Not for me. Nothing’s too hard if I know you’re mine.”
She sniffs and beams up at me before adding, with her signature dry humor, “Yeah, that sounds about right.”
We kiss.
Slow and deep and passionate.
A kiss that says this chance is worth it.
We’re worth it.
And that being together won’t be a hard thing at all.
29
Ruby
Four months later . . .
* * *
Long-distance love is hard, but not impossibly hard.
Jesse was right—nothing’s too hard as long as I know he’s mine.
As long I get to hear his voice telling me he loves and misses me before I go to bed and wake up to emails he sent in the middle of the night my time, detailing things he wanted to share with me while I was sleeping.
Like that he landed another big movie contract for a film set in the Great Depression or tried a sushi restaurant so incredible he’s already made reservations for the next time I visit. Or that he still loves and misses me and is shameless about saying so multiple times a day.
This love of ours is downright cheesy at times, but I cherish knowing my person is out there thinking of me as much as I’m thinking of him.
But I don’t spend all my time daydreaming about my sweet and delicious man.
I’m busier than a pie shop prepping for the holidays.
After quitting my day job as business manager for Sweetie Pies, I had a mild freak-out about how I was going to support myself as an artist. My cards sell well, but not that well—at least not yet—and I do enjoy eating and paying my rent.
So I got busy and sent my portfolio to a hundred of the top restaurants and dessert shops in Brooklyn, offering my services for original menu design as well as window display painting. That’s something I’d only done a handful of times for the pie shop, but I figured it might help me score some extra cash as summer gave way to the holiday season.
I’d hoped to land at least five or six jobs, something to hold me over until I could learn how to advertise my cards more effectively and add designs for T-shirts and aprons to my Etsy shop.
Instead, I booked twenty-seven menu jobs and eight windows—for Halloween, Thanksgiving, and the winter holidays.