The Billionaire Book Club

A cool breeze whips my hair up and over my shoulders as I round the final corner on my way to Suds, one of our favorite pub-style restaurants in the city.

I clench my arms tighter around my body and tuck my chin to my chest to make myself as aerodynamic as possible.

During the daytime hours, New York is wonderful in the fall.

But at night, after the sun has gone down, all of those concrete structures seem to serve only as a conduit for the cold.

And, unfortunately for me, my phone starts to ring just as I’m settling into the perfect position.

“Ah, fracking hell,” I groan, maneuvering one arm down and around to dig in the pocket of my coat.

When I see that it’s my mother, I seriously consider the ramifications of both answering the call and/or not. And honestly, I’ll save myself a lot of heartache if I just take the call now.

I risk a numb, half-dead hand by the time I get inside the bar, but that’s just the sacrifice I have to make for my mental health.

“Hey, Mom,” I greet, putting the phone to my ear and slowing my walk to a speed I can maintain without her thinking I’m strapped to the wing of a sexual predator’s aircraft.

“Ruby! Thank God! I left you a message last night, and you never called back. If you didn’t answer the phone now, I was going to hang up and dial the FBI.”

“I didn’t have a voice mail,” I say, ignoring the crazy part of her commentary and focusing on the facts. “Are you sure you left a message?”

“Yes, I’m sure! Your father had the dang PBR on, and I could barely hear a thing, but I waited for the beep and left you explicit instructions to call me back.”

“Well, I didn’t get it.”

“Maybe your phone is defective.”

I sigh heavily. “I’m talking to you on it now, Mom.”

“Well, maybe—”

“Does it really matter?” I interrupt. “Can we just talk now? I’m on my way to Kevin and Julie’s engagement party, so I don’t have a lot of time.”

“Ooh, give them kisses from me!”

I laugh a little. “You want me to give kisses to Kevin and Julie? My friends you’ve never actually met?”

“Yes! They’re young and in love, and I’m sending my congratulations, Ruby. Don’t make fun of your mother.”

“I’m not making fun,” I argue. “Just commenting.”

“Snidely,” she corrects. “You’re just commenting snidely.”

“Sorry,” I apologize as I come to a stop in front of Suds. The inside looks warm and inviting, and I frown longingly at its respite. I’d better work on wrapping up this conversation, or I’m going to be out here all night.

“You don’t sound sorry. But you will be one day when you get kidnapped and I’m not around to start a search party.”

“I’m hoping to avoid getting kidnapped altogether.”

“Then you’re going to have to start being more careful.”

I roll my eyes and shiver before switching hands, so I can tuck the numb one into my pocket.

“I’ll try.”

“Good. If you make it a month, your father and I will be there to visit.”

“I feel like you’re very pessimistic about my chances for survival. Did you buy refundable tickets?”

“No! Your father said it was an unnecessary expense.”

I bite back my laugh. Mark Rockford, always the penny-pincher. “Well, I guess I’ll put you in my calendar for a month from now, and we’ll just chance it. Do you have specific dates?”

“I don’t remember them. Let me find the tickets.”

I see Kevin through the window, ordering a beer, and a tiny tear forms in the inside corner of my eye. So close, but so damn far away at the same time.

“Just get back to me with the dates later, Mom. I really have to run.”

“Why? Is someone chasing you?” she shrieks, and I sigh.

“Just an expression, Mom. Nobody is chasing me.”

“Oh,” she breathes. “Good, good.”

“Mom, I have to go.”

“Okay, right. I’ll talk to you soon?”

“You bet,” I promise.

“Love you, Ruby.”

I smile then, because despite every ounce of her crazy, overprotective, helicopter tendencies, my mom is one of my favorite people. She devoted her whole life to me, and I always felt every ounce of care and thoughtfulness she put into it. And, if I’m being honest, it’s not always easy that we’re currently living on opposite coasts.

I mean, a lot of the time, it’s easy.

But, sometimes, some very rare times, I do miss my SoCal roots.

“Love you too, Mom. Talk to you soon.”

I pull the phone away from my ear, hit the end button, drop it into my purse, and shove gracelessly through the crowded sidewalk to get to the door that beckons.

A blast of heat hits my cheeks as I open it, and I sigh in relief.

Finally. A place with alcohol. And no risk of turning into a block of ice.

Kevin spots me quickly, excuses himself from his conversation with some guy I don’t recognize, and walks toward me as I pull off my coat and drape it over my arm. His eyes are assessing, and a little smirk settles into the corner of his mouth after gathering all the data.