Page 124 of The Design of Goodbye
“RubyJune?” It all made sense now. The refusal to buy me anything Ruby June, even though practically every girl in my school owned at least one piece. And my mom’s expected cruel critique anytime Ruby June released a new collection. “When?”
“Right after college,” she said, wistfully placing some hair behind her ear. “It was all I ever wanted.”
“What happened?” I asked, hoping she couldn’t tell how terrified I was of her answer.
“I got pregnant withyou.”
“Oh.” What did she expect me to say?I’m sorry?
“You weren’t planned, obviously,” she said. “I never wanted kids. Pregnancy was hard.” She shook her head. “Miserable. I threw up all the time. I missed meetings. Important events. After a month, Ruby fired me. There were plenty of other aspiring fashion designers out there who weren’t about to have a baby.” She glared. “You ruined my career.”
She was on a roll now and barely took time to catch her breath.
“And to think pregnancy was hard. Try parenting. You were colicky, then defiant. Independent. But then I caught you sewing...”She grimaced.
“What about sewing?” I asked.
She ignored me. “I thought all you needed was a friend. Jules was the perfect solution. I was convinced with your new friendship, you’d forget about sewing and give it up. But it only got worse,” she spat. “You fell in love with fashion design, too.”
“I don’t understand,” I said.
“Of course you don’t.” She focused on the window over my shoulder. “I’ve said enough.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You’ve said nothing.”
“I’ve saidenough.” She gathered her phone, her sketchbook, herself.
“You’re leaving?” I said. “You can’t leave. I need answers. I need moretime.”
She stood. “Remember what I always told you, Madison,” she said, and I flinched. “Goodbye.”
She walked away. I wasn’t sure which was worse: waking up to her gone or watching her leave.
For a moment, I sat there. She’d been right in front of me. We’d talked. But I still didn’t have the answers I needed to put all the pieces together.
I fumbled for my phone and typed one word:
Thread.
In less than a minute, Taylor was sliding into the booth next to me. “Are you okay?”
I shook my head. I pressed my palms to my eyes to keep the tears away. I didn’t care if Taylor saw me cry, but I didn’t want my mom to hold that kind of power over me anymore. “I feel...I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.”
Taylor pulled me close. “We order milkshakes and fries and eat our feelings. That’s what we do.”
chapter forty-two
That night, Liam showed up two hours earlier than normal.
“Hi,” I said. “You’re early.”
I flopped onto my bed before he’d finished crawling through the window.
He stood by my desk, confused. “I hope you don’t mind I’m here,” he said, running his hand through his hair. He was a wreck—like me. “Olive made me leave work, and I can’t go to my house tonight.”
I kind of did mind. I still hadn’t processed everything that’d happened with my mom, and I wasn’t ready to have company.
I grabbed Thimble and hugged him, his warmth providing me much-needed comfort. “Why did Olive make you leave?”
