Ruby Red, The Sequel - The Romance Story Continues (Complete)

Chapter 32

Ali thanked Marcus for his help loading her suitcase into the back of her SUV. Luckily, the building's doorman had been in the elevator when she called it. She was struggling with her bags, Scout's essentials and the dog himself. Marcus had insisted he carry something for her.

He had politely asked if she was going on vacation and Ali had to dig her fingernails into the palm of her hand to keep her composure as she answered. Marcus was polite enough not to press the issue past her vague attempt at redirecting the conversation. The rest of the elevator ride was spent in silence.

After strapping Scout into the backseat, Ali slid in behind the steering wheel and started the vehicle. Then her hands started to shake. Gripping the leather-bound circle in front of her, Ali demanded her body not to revolt against her mind. She had to do this. She couldn't repeat old patterns. She had to make a stand.

Tonight was supposed to have been a turning point for her relationship with Sam. Ali had made up her mind to tell Sam how she felt. To open up to him about what she wanted. Everything had been planned out perfectly.

Over the holidays Ali had experienced what it was like to be part of a family. It was so different from the celebrations she was accustomed to with her relatives. In her experience, Christmas was a busy time, where yes, the house was decorated, presents were exchanged and too much food was ingested. But it all happened at an arm's length.

The big day was a non-event, almost a let down after a string of house parties, each hostess trying to outdo the last. The morning was quiet, each member of the household left to their own devices, her reading in her room, her parents drinking in the parlour. Then the evening was spent at the club, dining in the massive hall, overcrowded with tables squished in to make room for the extra guests. As a child it had seemed like a delight, running amongst the men and women decked out in the extra sparkly attire. It changed as she got older, seeing it more as a collection of bored, over-privileged individuals going through the motions of a yearly celebration.

Spending time with Sam, his parents, aunts, uncles, countless cousins and adopted family this past season had opened Ali's eyes to a world she thought only existed in Hollywood constructed movies and Norman Rockwell pictures. But it wasn't all fake, some of those cinematic creations were based in reality. People really did sip cocoa with marshmallows, go ice skating, string popcorn.

The best part had been the meal. Gathered around a large table, the Harrington family enjoyed a feast created, lovingly, by Evelyn Harrington's own hands. It would have been so easy to have a chef do it but she insisted on preparing each dish herself. For weeks she had been planning, baking, marinating and finally roasting delicious delicacies from family recipes. While Ali savoured every bite, she also watched as Sam appreciated the home-cooked meal.

Ali had decided then and there she wanted this. She wanted to be surrounded by folk that came to the table to be with each other, shared stories and jabs, appreciated each other's company. Ali wanted a family. And she wanted it with Sam.

So she had approached Evelyn and asked her for help. Ali wanted to learn how to cook Sam's favourite meal.

Evelyn had been so kind. Ali knew she was asking a lot, having never so much as baked cookies before. She was starting from scratch. When Sam was working, Ali had spent hours in Evelyn's kitchen, learning the basics.

In the beginning, Ali felt like she was being a traitor to her feminine independence, betraying those that had come before her to fight for the right to step out of the kitchen. But after watching Evelyn and working alongside her, Ali soon realized cooking a meal was not a gender-specific task. It was a way of caring for someone, showing them what they mean to you. It was a labour of love.

Ali had a new appreciation for the meals Sam had created for them to share early in their relationship.

It was a simpler time and nourishing her was a way of providing Ali with something she needed. She wanted to demonstrate the same love to Sam.

Together, Evelyn and Ali created a menu they thought she had a pretty good chance of pulling it off. Ali's first attempts were mitigated disasters. Burnt was a flavour she managed to perfect, not in a good way. Gravy seemed like an elusive dream compared to her lumpy formations. Timing was another issue, trying to master the art of having everything arrive at the table hot and properly cooked all at once. Christopher had even gotten in on the action, offering to be another taste tester in the experiment.

Over time though, Ali picked up enough knowledge where she felt confident enough to attempt the feat. She wanted everything to be perfect for this meal. The meal she hoped would change everything.

She set the date, made Sam promise to be home this one night. She set the table for two. She put on the sexy red dress she purchased especially for the occasion. Ali put her heart and soul into cooking dinner for the man she loved.

And then Ali waited for Sam to come home.

And waited.

After her third attempt at calling Sam and getting no response, Ali gave up. In every sense. Disappointment surged through her, clouding her thoughts. Disappointment and hurt. Her old defences whispered in her ear. They told her to shield herself from any further pain, to run away and hide.

Tossing items into a suitcase, she scooped up Scout and fled the apartment, leaving the spoilt meal and her hopes behind her.

The problem was she didn't have anywhere to go.

Sitting in the car in the underground garage, Ali looked at Scout as if he could provide inspiration. In a way he did. At the dog park the other day Ali had been talking to a woman about dog-friendly establishments. With guests coming in next month, she had mentioned a boutique hotel uptown that catered to visitors with canine companions.

Searching on her phone for the hotel. Upon finding it, she called and made a reservation.

"How many nights?" asked the person on the other end of the line.

Ali wavered. It was a good question. She didn't exactly have a plan here. She needed time. Time to think, to decide what to do next.