Ruby did look at the paper, but she didn’t bother to repeat her question. There was no need to remind her mom that there were dozens of community colleges and trade schools in the Seattle area or that some admissions departments looked beyond academics. Her mother could no more envision a life of academia than she could a colony on the moon.

“You were the one who wanted to quit the pageants,” her mom reminded her. “You were the one who insisted on getting a job and making your own way in this world. It’s not fair to be mad at me because you don’t like the way it turned out.”

Ruby closed the drawer, careful to fold and tuck the transcript in her back pocket. As much as she’d have liked to be angry at her mom, she was right. Ruby hadn’t made the least push to tally up her scholarship winnings once she’d graduated from high school. She’d wanted to get as far away from pageantry as possible, up to and including the renunciation of everything she’d ever won.

And then…nada. When she’d stopped competing on the stage, she’d stopped trying at everything, allowing herself instead to be carried on a comfortable wave of crappy jobs and even crappier boyfriends.

“This is about that man, isn’t it?” Her mom followed her to the kitchen, where Ruby had every intention of eating her feelings in the form of that entire tub of hummus. “The handsome one who’s good in bed?”

Ruby wasn’t sure if her mom’s astuteness or her assumptions startled her more, but she gave a small jump. “I never said he was good in bed.”

“Bed, the back seat of your car, a convenient wall—what you do with your gentleman friends is no business of mine.” Her mom paused before opening the fridge and pulling out the promised dinner. Much to Ruby’s surprise, she didn’t just have celery and hummus; there was a whole platter of vegetables and even some pita bread to go along with it.

“They’re the low-carb kind, so don’t look at me like that.” Her mom unwrapped the platter and placed it on the table. “I also picked up a bag of diet dog food in case you brought that animal with you again. Well?”

“Well, what? Why didn’t I bring Wheezy? I told you already, he’s not my dog. I’m only—”

Her mother waved her off with an impatient hand. “No, not the dog. The man.”

Ruby had been afraid of that. She fell to the nearest chair with a thump. “Yes and no,” she said before picking up a carrot. Since she wasn’t required to weigh in for the West Coast Canine Classic, she swirled it generously through the hummus before taking a bite. “It is about him, but it’s also not.”