Page 16 of After Paris

Chapter Sixteen

Ruby

Friday, July 4, 2025

4:00 p.m.

My walk about the city had lasted only an hour. Summer heat and humidity had made it more exhausting than I’d imagined. So, I returned to my hotel room, changed, and pulled out my historical diaries.

When my phone rang, I almost didn’t bother giving it a glance. The captain’s report of the embassy party consumed me. But for some reason, I looked over, and when I saw Scott’s name, my laser attention vanished. The man had a talent for ruining a good thing.

Drawing in a breath, I accepted the call. “Scott.”

“Ruby. I wasn’t sure you’d answer.”

“You got me. What do you want?”

“Did I catch you in the middle of something?”

“Working. What can I do for you?”

“Working on what? Did you get a job?”

I brushed back a strand of hair, annoyed that I cared that he seemed to care. “Communications for the Virginia Tourism Bureau.”

“That’s great, babe. You always wanted to be a writer.”

I had been writing and selling articles when we were together, but I didn’t bother to point that out. “And here I am. Scott, what do you want?”

“Your brother said you were in Northern Virginia.”

“You called Eric?”

“You weren’t answering, and I was worried. And for the record, he wasn’t outing you. He let it slip.”

Eric had been sad when Scott broke up with me. They’d shared interests in computers, Star Trek, and chess. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m in DC, fresh from Paris. It’s a quick trip, but I wanted to see if you had time for a coffee.”

Coffee was cheap and easy. Not even lunch. “I only have a few more days and several more interviews to do.”

“Come on, Ruby. You have an hour for me, don’t you?”

“Since when was it so important for you to see me?”

“I know it didn’t end well, and I’ve always felt bad about that. This next meeting will end on a better note.”

Eric and Jeff had said a few times that I needed closure with Scott. I couldn’t spend the rest of my life thinking of him as “The Asshole.” Well, I could, but maybe they had a point. Perhaps untangling my knotted anger would make life easier. Positive thinking was good for overall health.

“I can meet you in about an hour. I’m in Old Town Alexandria.”

“Excellent. Where do you want to meet?”

“There’s a bakery on Union Street. They serve coffee.”

“Excellent. I’m looking forward to seeing you.”

“See you soon.” I ended the call and tossed the phone on the bed, allowing a groan to rumble unrestrained in my throat. I didn’t want to deal with Scott. I wanted him never to have happened. But he had. Time to act like a big girl and face him again.

Forty-five minutes later, I walked down Union Street’s brick sidewalk. The sky was a brilliant blue, and the Potomac meandered on my left. I’d changed into black capris, a white off-the-shoulder shirt, gold hoop earrings, and red flats.

Outside, the heat felt good. When the hospital released me, I’d sworn I’d spend every waking minute in the sun. But lately it seemed I’d spent too many days inside, on a computer screen. Mental notes: More time in the sun. More fun. More laughing.

When I spotted the bakery shop sign, my stomach clenched. Not even sunshine could take away this tension. Scott. I loved him so much. When he’d said forever, I’d believed him. And then he went on a permanent break.

I opened the bakery’s front door and found him sitting at a small round table. He’d ordered two decaf coffees and chocolate croissants. Damn. He would remember my favorites.

When the bells above the door jingled, he looked toward the door. For a moment, he stared. My hair wasn’t as long as it had been in Paris, but it also wasn’t thinning, and I wasn’t deathly pale and doubled over with nausea. This Ruby hovered between the versions in his memories.

Widened eyes reflected relief as he came toward me. He wrapped his arms around me, and I leaned into him out of habit. He still wore the Chanel aftershave I’d bought him three years ago. And the top of my head still fit right under his chin. His hug was firm, and it annoyed me how good it felt.

Finally he released me, and when I stepped back, my cheeks felt slightly flushed. “Scott. You look as amazing as ever.”

He stood a couple of inches over six feet, with wide muscled shoulders. His hair was still thick and blond, his skin tanned.

“I ordered for you. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” I took a seat. Coffee with cream steamed in a porcelain cup. Beside it, a rose-shaped pat of butter topped the croissant.

“This is a surprise,” I said.

He took a seat, his brow quirking with amusement. “Not exactly. I’ve been calling.”

I set my small square bag on the table and sipped my coffee.

Scott was putting on a show like he had in the old days. “I like the short hair.”

I resisted the urge to touch it. “All systems are a go. I received a clean bill of health at the last doctor’s appointment.”

“It’s hard to reconcile you with the gal who was so sick.” Admiration sharpened his stare. “I don’t know how you survived all that.”

I thought about the selfie that Eric and I had taken for our parents. There were still times when it felt as if I were staring into a stranger’s face. “I turned a corner after the bone marrow transplant.”

“Bone marrow.”

“Eric was a match. Big brother to the rescue again.”

He frowned as he traced the side handle of his cup. “I’m glad he was there for you.”

“Me too.”

“How are your parents?”

“Taking their first vacation in years. Last I heard, they were in Rome.”

“Nice.”

I sipped the coffee, loving the taste and needing something to do to fill the silence. “So, what are you doing in DC?”

“Grant presentation.”

Scott worked for the American University of Paris. His job was to obtain educational grants for students who couldn’t afford a semester abroad. “Right. You made this trip before about three years ago.”

He seemed surprised that I remembered. “We’d only been dating a few months.”

“That’s right.”

He tapped his right hand on his thigh, the tell he was nervous. He wasn’t here to catch up on old times. And he sure didn’t want to reconcile. But he wanted something.

“Spit it out,” I said. “I can tell you have something important to say.”

A half smile curved his lips, and his tapping fingers stilled. “You know me so well.”

I did. And if I was honest with myself, our breakup would have happened eventually, even if I hadn’t gotten sick. Scott liked to go out with the lads to drink, and they could be gone for days. He also wasn’t good about remembering special moments, like our meet-a-versary or my birthday. But when he was with me, he was so engaged that I forgot about the times I went to bed angry. My illness sped up the clock. “I met someone,” he said.

It wasn’t unexpected, a natural progression, but it made me angry. A part of me wanted him to stay frozen in time, forever tortured and longing for me.

“Congratulations. Who?”

“Her name is Bridgett.”

“You work with a Bridgett, from what I remember.”

“One and the same.”

Tall, blond, slim, big boobs, Bridgett was from Nice, France, and had moved to Paris in her early twenties. “Are you happy?”

“I am.” He did his best to look a bit ashamed.

“You could’ve texted me all this. We didn’t have to meet.”

“You know we have unfinished business as well as I do.”

“Do we?”

His gaze hardened. “The embryos we made.”

He’d agreed to donate his sperm so I could have fertilized eggs. I also had unfertilized eggs, but the embryos would have a better chance of making it to the finish line than they would. Eric had cautioned me against using Scott as a donor. He’d wanted me to use a sperm bank. But I’d thought my brother was worrying over nothing. “What about them?”

“We aren’t together. And you could have my child.”

“You signed over full custody to me.” Once Eric had accepted that he couldn’t change my mind about using Scott’s sperm, he’d lined up the lawyers. Again, I’d thought he was overreacting, but as always, my brother was thinking five chess moves ahead.

“They’re my children,” I said.

“They’re my children too.”

“They have your DNA, but they’re my children.” A protective ferocity burned in my chest. “You’re not going to take my chance of motherhood away.”

“What if you meet someone? What if your stored eggs fail to fertilize? Is this guy going to want to raise another man’s child?”

“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it, Scott.”

“Are you dating anyone?”

He thought he could still ask me anything, but that window had closed when he’d left. “That’s none of your business.”

“It is.”

Scott was always good at getting what he wanted. He could always coax me into caving on a thousand different little choices. But looking back, I was the one who always chose not to stand my ground about restaurants, movies, or vacation choices. I wasn’t upset or bitter that I’d given in because, deep down, I knew I could have said no at any time. He’d asked. I’d given. And it was okay.

But this wasn’t okay. Somewhere deep in my brain, an impenetrable line had become etched between us. “Our legal agreement is ironclad.”

He softened his voice and leaned closer, just like he used to. “I was hoping you’d tear it up.”

I sipped my coffee and regretted such a lovely croissant would be wasted. “No.”

“This question is bigger than a quick yes or no, Ruby.”

I reached for my purse. “You can make the question as big or small as you’d like, but it’ll always be a no. My embryos. My babies.” I rose again, feeling a primal sense of protection for children who were years from birth.

Never a fan of public displays, Scott stood. “You’re being selfish, Ruby. You’re betting on a long future that might not happen.”

“And if I live to be one hundred?”

“If you’re wrong, the child will suffer.”

His quietly spoken words hit their mark.

“Bridgett and I are getting married. She’s pregnant.”

The one-two punch struck hard. He added, “You sure you’ll live long enough to raise a baby?”

“We all die, Scott.”

I moved toward the door, and Scott hurried after me. “I did this all wrong. I hit you with too much, too fast. I’m sorry. Let’s sit down and talk more.”

“We’ve covered the main points and low blows.” Bells jingled over my head when I opened the door. “Have a good life, Scott.”

“I have a legal right.”

“No, you don’t. You willingly signed your rights away. No one twisted your arm.”

“I was trying to be nice.”

I stared at him. “Your sperm was a parting gift?”

“You’re not being fair.”

“‘Fair’?” I couldn’t hide my disgust. “Do you think life has been fair to me?”

“I don’t want to fight.”

“If you press this, you’ll get a big one.”

He reached toward me, but I angled away. “Scott, you offered to donate, even if you saw it as a consolation prize,” I said. “I know my illness was hard on you. No harm, no foul. But you won’t steal my chance to be a mother.”

“I don’t think you’re being reasonable.”

Again, we were talking about fairness . “We’re done.”

When I stepped into the late-afternoon heat, my chilled skin soaked up the warmth. I hurried down the brick sidewalk, unmindful of the tourists enjoying the holiday weekend. Cars rumbled by, and several people on bicycles dashed past on the cobblestone road.

I didn’t look back at Scott and hoped he didn’t follow. I wasn’t in the mood for a public fight. He wouldn’t give up this easily, but any more talking would be through lawyers.

When my phone rang, I almost cried with relief when I saw Madame Bernard’s name. “Bonjour, madame.”

“Ruby. Where are you? How was your meeting with Mr. Johnson?”

“It went well.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m a few blocks from your town house, enjoying the afternoon.”

“Do you have plans?”

“Reading the reports from Otto Wolfgang.”

“Mr. Johnson gave you the captain’s reports?”

“He did. They are an amazing find.”

“Join me for a drink and tell me what you’ve learned. This hunt of yours is very exhilarating. I was so motivated I spent the afternoon in the attic.”

“In this heat?”

“I sent a young man up there to bring down items. The poor fellow ended up soaked in sweat, but I paid him well. You’ll love what he found.”