Page 4 of Holding You
He can carry on a conversation, which is nice because all I can think about is how the woman next door doesn't like me.
And I have no idea why.
It bothers me.
“So yeah, you and your little girl should come to breakfast on Sunday. I won’t take no for an answer.”
“We’ll be there,” I tell him.
He calls Max in, and I lead Susie inside for dinner.
He might not take no for an answer, but I have a feeling I know who will have no problem giving him that answer, or me for that matter.
The one and only Ruby Asher.
CHAPTER ONE
PRESENT DAY - RUBY
With a name like Ruby, most people assume you’re named for having red hair.
But not me.
I got my name because, after having three boys, my mother finally got a little girl. The doctor told her all throughout her pregnancy it was a boy, but out popped me.
Apparently, she told my dad that I was a rare gem. Add in the fact that I was born in July, and they named me Ruby.
It’s a total coincidence that my hair naturally settled on a strawberry blonde color.
I curl the last strand, wave my hand over it to cool it down before I spray it with hairspray, and then run my hand through all the curls to create a wavy style for the day.
Today is the last day at my son's elementary school. Living in a small town means everyone will find an excuse to celebrate and I meananything.
Hence, it’s today’s last blast celebration for all the children and they are having a full-blown party with games and food in the parking lot.
Which means if I’m not out of my front door within the next sixty seconds, I’m going to be late.
I grab the tray of Funfetti cupcakes I baked this morning and frosted with white icing off the kitchen marble countertop. The dishwasher still needs to be emptied and the dishes in the sink need to be placed inside it. Then, I nearly trip over Max’s shoes by the front door.
I’ll just go ahead and add clean the kitchen and living room to the list of things that need to be done around the house, and keep my eyes off the grass that clearly needs to be mowed in the front yard.
I got this, though.
The point of moving back to Lovers last year was to take back control of my life. Sure, the life I was living before was easy, but it wasn’t mine, and those who controlled it made sure I knew that every single day I was there.
Living near the elementary school has been a perk in my constantly crazy, busy life.
I turn right at the end of my driveway, glancing at the house next door as I walk by.
Growing up, the Stonewalls lived there. Their kids were older than me and my brothers, so I never interacted with them much, but Mrs. Stonewall was the sweetest after my mother died. I was really young when it happened. Oddly enough, I was the exact age of my son right now.
Eight.
I let out a sigh and pick up the pace.
Sweet ole Mrs. Stonewall doesn’t live there anymore.
Instead, her son is renting the house out to Declan Young.
