Chapter Eighteen
The taste of her lips lingered until I could grasp what had happened.
In my vulnerability, I kissed her.
We had been separated for three years, but I had never stopped loving her. At first, I had thought it was futile to pursue her again when we bumped into each other on that rainy day, but now I couldn’t resist the urge to confess my feelings.
“I’m not sorry.” I breathed against her cheek.
“What?” Her lips parted, and I leaned in for another kiss, but she moved back.
“I’m sorry, we should not have done that.” She said, moving farther away from me.
“I’m not sorry, Clara. I’ve meant to kiss you since the first day I bumped into you in the rain. I’ve been meaning to hold you. I’ve been meaning to feel your body against mine. I’ve been longing for you, Clara.”
Her face was all flushed.
“I love you, Clara. I never stopped loving you.”
She looked away.
“Clara. Please, look at me.” I moved close to her, breaching the gap between us.
“Jacob, do you think this is right?” She asked, looking pained.
“Nothing could be more right.”
“But-”
“I truly love you, and I want you back in my life. I’ll continue proving myself to you till you accept me.”
She cupped her forehead, sighing.
“It doesn’t feel right.” She muttered.
“Clara, please listen to me. I’ll continue to do all I can to prove my love for you till you say you’ve forgiven me. You can think about it as much as you want.”
I could feel her quiver. Her lashes fluttered repeatedly.
“As for me,” I continued. “The kiss, none of these is a mistake.”
But she wouldn’t say anything. Slowly, she moved away from me and sniffled.
“I know this is a lot to take in, and I do not want to pressure you in any way. Tell me when you are ready.”
She still wouldn’t budge or say another word, but by then, she had completely calmed down.
“Goodnight?”
Decidedly, I prepared to leave.
In the turmoil of my heart, it hurts to love, but it hurts more because you can’t decide whom, when, or how to love. You can’t even control your feelings. You behave so irrationally that you sometimes think you are crazy.
“Jacob?” I heard her voice softly call my name.
“Yeah,” my heart skipped a beat. I became anxious to hear whatever she wanted to say.
“Goodnight.” She twitched a small smile.
I felt my heart was going to burst out of my chest, unable to contain the massive joy I was feeling at that moment.
That was how love made you feel.
Crazy.
***
I woke up with so much happiness and hummed throughout the morning. Daisy had not returned home the previous night, so I had the freedom and space to express my joy.
Merely thinking about the fact that Clara had finally warmed up to me, excited my nerves.
“Did something good happen?” Jackson asked when I settled in my office.
“Well, consider it a miracle.” I beamed a smile, and he looked at me strangely. I ignored him and focused on how to get everything on my schedule over with so I could spend alone time with Clara at her coffee shop.
Talking about the coffee shop, I felt I needed to do something. I could not watch Clara struggle to pay off some debts for which she was not responsible.
However, I decided to speak to Daisy about it first.
I dialed Daisy’s number and shared with her Jackson’s revelations.
“Though I got to know it through unorthodox means, I do not regret it. She wouldn’t share it with us, anyway.” I added.
“Sometimes, I still feel she has not completely opened up to me, although I mostly let her know things about me,” Daisy commented, disappointed.
“I feel she’s trying not to get her heart broken by two siblings.” I jocularly opined. “But I think she’s opening up to me gradually, she let me kiss her, and that’s a big deal.”
Daisy chuckled. “Perhaps she just doesn’t want to bother us with her problems. And as regards the current state of your relationship, I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks,” I was happy for myself as well.
“I hope you finally, officially get back together.” She said.
“Me too.”I looked on, my eyes darted back and forth from the flakes of snow outside. It was twenty days before Christmas, I thought. I had to plan something for Clara. It was only natural I did. Hopefully, I’d completely win her heart before the new year.
“So what do you want to do now? I mean as regards the debt clearance.” Daisy queried.
“I haven’t decided.”
Paying off her debt seemed like the best thing to do at the moment but I doubted if I would not be turned down. I could always pay it off behind her back, but I felt it might trigger some unnecessary breach between us.
“Do you think you want to pay off the debt?” Daisy asked as if she could read my mind.
“Well,” I shrugged. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what’s on her mind, though I wish I had known.” Daisy’s response sealed the conversation, and my mind was decided.
At lunchtime, I drove down to Clara’s place at the heart of the city. Our eyes met as soon as I opened the door, and she seemed excited to see me.
“Hey!” I waved at her, walking over to the counter where she was attending to a customer.
“Hey,” she whispered.
After the customer left, she came around the counter and proposed we sit at a nearby table. She went back to get us some coffee while I made my way to the table.
“How’s your day going?” I asked after she settled into the chair across from me.
“Pretty good,” she smiled.
“Great! I brought lunch.” I said and immediately began unpacking the takeouts.
“Burger.” She beamed a satisfactory smile.
“Yeah,” I offered her a portion.
“Thank you.”
“You are welcome.”
“Well, how is work?” She sounded reluctant, but I was pleased she was putting in an effort to have a conversation.
“Great! We have two newly signed deals.” I responded.
“That’s awesome,” she blushed.
“Yeah, it is.”
Glancing around, I can’t help but admire what she’s created here. “You’ve done a wonderful job with this place, Clara,” I say, hoping my admiration comes across sincerely.
“Thank you,” she replied, her tone measured as she smooths her apron.
She pours the coffee with familiar care, a reminder of the attention to detail she always possessed, even when we were together.
“I heard about the fundraiser for a sensory room in the library last week that was hosted here,” I ventured, trying to bridge the years and distance that have grown between us. “They said you stayed open late to ensure everyone had time to take part.”
A faint smile crosses her face as she nods.
“It was the least I could do. This neighborhood has been good to me since I started running the shop. Giving back is important to me.”
Her words warmed me, and I felt a surge of the old admiration I always felt for her depth of care. “That’s one thing I’ve always admired about you, Clara. You care deeply.”
She meets my gaze, searching for a moment, then looks away. “People depend on me here,” she said softly, almost to herself.
I reached out, touching her hand lightly, hesitating as emotions churned inside me.
“I’ve missed this... us. I’ve missed you,” I confess.
She withdraws her hand gently, not harshly, but with a clear intent to protect herself from any emotional hurt. It stings, but I understand.
“Why are you here, Jacob?” she asked, her expression guarded.
I take a deep breath, steadying myself against the vulnerability that washes over me. “Because I want to spend time with you,” I say, my voice thick with emotion. “I’ve realized that I’m happy when I’m around you. And...” I pause, the next words critical, “And I love you, Clara.”
She looked at me. I can see her wrestling with her feelings. The years of solitude and strength she has endured have tempered her emotions.
“If you still have feelings for me, why did our relationship end? Was there something I did wrong?” She asked, perplexed.
Clara’s question hangs heavy in the air, lingering between us like an unspoken truth. Why did I break up with her? The memory of that moment resurfaces, vivid and painful.
“I...” I begin, the words catching in my throat.
How do I explain without revealing the raw vulnerability, the fear that consumed me then?
“I never meant to hurt you, Clara,” I say, the ache in my chest almost tangible. “When my father fell ill, everything changed. Suddenly, I found myself thrust into a position of responsibility that I was not prepared for. I had to move away, and take on the role of CEO.”
I observe her reaction, searching for understanding in her eyes. She listened intently; her gaze softening with a hint of compassion.
“I wanted to tell you,” I continued, desperation creeping into my voice. “But I was overwhelmed, and the thought of what the future held scared me. I thought leaving without an explanation would be easier for both of us.”
The admission hangs in the air, heavy with the weight of missed opportunities and unspoken truths. I reach out tentatively, my hand hovering between us, longing for the connection we once shared.
“I’m sorry, Clara,” I say, the words a whisper against the backdrop of the bustling city. “I should have been honest with you from the start.”
“It’s difficult, Jacob,” she starts, her voice soft yet firm. “I’m trying to build something here, all on my own. I’ve had to be strong, dependable and I can’t just let that go.”
I nod, understanding her need for security and stability.
“I know,” I replied, my voice steady. “Like I said last night, I’m not asking for immediate answers. I’m here, Clara. Here to support you, in any way you need me to. Your dreams matter to me.”
She looked at me with a steady gaze, but remained silent.
“Do you have plans after lunch?” I asked, breaking the silence.
“No, I rarely have plans after lunch. I work until closing.” She responded.
I could see how much she was stretching to clear the debts on time.
“But I have to make some purchases at the farmer’s market this afternoon,” she added.
“Perfect, I’ll help you out.”
“Ah-” She winced.
“Do not reject my help, Clara.” I immediately added.
“Okay,” she said.
As we finish our lunch with lighter conversation, the air feels lighter, too, filled with laughter and a renewed connection. Perhaps just as friends, but with a potential for something more.
***
The chatter in the farmer’s market floated above our conversation. The bustling market was not someplace I’d naturally be found but I was pleased Clara had let me accompany her.
She stopped in front of a vendor that sold coffee beans.
“How much for this?” She asked, holding up a bag of freshly ground coffee beans. The rich aroma of freshly ground coffee filled the air, overwhelming the rest of the available spices.
“That’s a pound. It’s twenty dollars.” The man who sold the product responded.
“Can it go for fifteen?” She tried to bargain.
“I’m afraid it can’t.” The man replied.
“Alright, I’ll take it.” She finally said, and when she had paid, I relieved her of it.
“Thanks,” she wore a lovely smile.
I hoped her smile would grow wider the more we spent time together.
We continued to meander through the market. I must say, one thing I had the advantage of accessing raw in the space was the scent of exotic spices lingering in the air.
“Cinnamon sticks!” She exclaimed, swerving left and stopping in front of the stock of a woman vendor.
“For a new latte recipe, I recently came up with.” She added, buying a few.
“That sounds nice. I’d like to try it out.” I commented, relieving her of the bag of Cinnamon sticks.
Next, she got some cocoa powder for mochas.
When we had got all she wanted and we made our way down to my car, a familiar voice called out to us.
“Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite coffee connoisseur!” Old Napoleon exclaimed, warmly embracing Clara.
“Oh, Old Napoleon! I didn’t expect to see you here today!” she expressed, her voice warm and friendly.
“Well, I thought to quickly get some things before winter strikes in full force.” He laughed.
“Very well,”
Then he looked at me. “How are you doing, man?”
“Not bad.” I twitched a smile, and he tapped my shoulder.
After the exchange of pleasantries, he turned around and walked to his vehicle, while Clara and I got into my car and drove back to the coffee shop.
When we returned to the shop, I helped Clara pack the groceries. Soon, a steady stream of customers arrived, and I jumped in to help, thrilled to play barista’s assistant once again. But this time, it felt different. We worked seamlessly as a team, and every time our eyes met, Clara’s face lit up with a smile that warmed the room.
After closing up, I offered her a lift home.
As we drove, the hum of the engine and the lingering scent of coffee filled the comfortable silence.
“My offer to resign and come work for you still stands,” I said, breaking the silence.
Clara laughed, shaking her head. “I can’t afford your services.”
“I’m willing to work for a date,” I replied boldly.
She laughed again, a musical sound. “No, nice try.”
“Nice try! But I was serious,” I protested as I pulled into my driveway.
Clara turned to face me, her expression softening. “Thank you for everything. I appreciate your help today,” she said.
Then she leaned in and kissed me on the cheek, leaving a warm spot that seemed to linger.
“Goodnight, Jacob,” she added, slipping out of the car.
I sat there, speechless, watching her walk to her porch. She turned and waved before disappearing inside, leaving me with a racing heart and a mind full of possibilities.
As I walked into my home, I couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight was just the beginning. Tomorrow, I’d find a way to convince her that some things are worth taking a chance on.