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She looks at me, but when no words come out, I get a sick feeling. Something’s about to go wrong.

“What do I have to do, beg you to say it?”

She shuts her eyes again. “I’m sorry. I love you, Lorenzo.”

I take my hand away, cold running through me. “You can’t even look at me when you say it?”

She looks at me then, surprise and hurt in her expression, which pisses me off. What right does she have to be hurt?

“You haven’t said those words to me since the first night we slept together. And then never again. What’s going on?”

“Nothing! It’s hard for me to say it sometimes, that’s all.”

“Really?” I spit, anger flaring unexpectedly. All I want is for her to reassure me I’m not losing her, and all she’s doing is convincing me I am. “Seemed pretty easy for you to say it to me four years ago.”

Her eyes turn laser sharp on me, her lips parted. “What do you mean?”

I shouldn’t have told her, not in a moment like this, but it’s too late now. “Last night of summer before senior year. My dock? You didn’t just kiss me, you told me you loved me.” I see the exact instant shock and fear transform her eyes. These feelings scare her, but I hold her eye. They don’t scare me. “That you were in love with me.”

She’s trying to stay calm, but her chest rises and falls visibly. She shakes her head and stares at me, though her gaze looks far away. “I don’t remember that.”

“I do. I’ve been remembering it over and over.” The bewildered look on her face fills me with regret. I should have told her a long time ago. I lean across the table toward her. “Ruby, I’m not trying to pressure you, I just want to understand. We’ve wanted this for so long, and now that we have it, you’re running away from me.”

She puts her hand up and stands. “I—I don’t want to talk about this right now. Please. I can’t think straight.”

I stand and reach for her. “No, I want to hear you tell me you love me and you want to be with me as much as I want to be with you. And if you can’t say that to me, I deserve to know why.”

“Why do you need to hear me say it? Apparently you’ve known for four years I’m in love with you! How is that not enough?”

Shame burns bright in her eyes before she turns away.

I step back, silenced. It’s then I really see myself: begging my best friend to tell me she still loves me, to swear she won’t leave me next year. And for the first time, I don’t like us together.

FORTY-TWO

ruby

“So you thinkI should put off culinary school?” My heart sinks as I stare back at my advisor.

Marta swivels her computer screen toward me. “Do you want to look at the numbers again?”

I shake my head quickly and close my eyes. “I remember them.” Tuition numbers. Big numbers. Completely and hopelessly out-of-reach numbers.

“Look, the good thing about becoming a research chef is there’s not one single path to get there. You work in research and development for a few years after graduation, you save money, and then you go to culinary school.” Her features tighten. “Now, you haven’t been planning for a career in R and D, so getting a job isn’t going to be a slam dunk. No internship experience at this stage isn’t good, and you’re quite late to be applying for a fall internship. We’ll have to work hard to land you a good one in spring.”

I sigh, feeling my resolve begin to crack.

“It’s still possible, Ruby.”

Sure. Possible. Like winning the lottery is possible. “I guess I need to think about it. I’ll—” I scramble for an excuse to get out of there, suddenly unable to bear another minute of thisconversation. “Maybe my parents will consider paying after all.” It’s as far from the truth as anything could be, but I just need to leave.

I feel limp with defeat as I head for the biology building for my shift. Score a job in R and D when I’m up against candidates like Bree? Never going to happen.Fuck.

The aquarium room is quiet and empty when I walk in, just as I’d hoped, the only activity the silent, graceful movement of the fish and the soft bubbling of the aquarium filters. I’ve never needed solitude more than I do now. And the bad news from my advisor is the least of it.

All last night I tried not to think about what Lorenzo told me. And when that didn’t work, I tried to convince myself it didn’t matter what he told me. So I confessed my feelings to him years ago. And? He probably would have known I loved him whether I said the words or not. My devotion has never been subtle.

I check the notes left by the last employee—nothing unusual to report. Then I work my way through the feeding schedule.