Misbooked for Love

Chapter 11

11

CLARA

I stare at my reflection in the mirror, trying to convince myself that I haven’t completely lost my mind. The soft glow of the lamp casts a warm light on my face, and I swipe on another coat of mascara, hoping it will mask the uncertainty lingering in my eyes.

I shouldn’t be doing this. Going to dinner with Tom on Valentine’s Day feels reckless, impulsive—like stepping off a ledge without looking at what's below. When he asked, something in his voice pulled at me, and after thinking it through, I said yes. But resolved that nothing would come out of it, just a nice dinner with the excuse that it’s Valentine’s Day and no one wants to be alone on such a disgustingly romantic day .

Now, with my hair curled loosely around my shoulders and a simple red dress hugging my curves, I feel exposed in a way I didn’t expect.

The dress is new, one I bought on a whim before this trip, thinking maybe I’d wear it to a fancy dinner or just to feel like myself again. I smooth my hands over the fabric, trying to calm the flutter of nerves in my stomach. But it’s not nerves; it’s something more complicated, something I haven’t—won’t—let myself name.

I look at myself one last time, taking a deep breath. “Okay,” I whisper to my reflection. “You can do this. Just a little adventure.”

But as I make my way downstairs, I hear Tom’s voice, low and soft, carrying from the living room. I slow my steps, the nervous excitement in my chest twisting into something colder. He’s on the phone, and I don’t need to hear the words to know who he’s talking to. The tone is unmistakable—gentle, warm, a side of him that he doesn’t show often.

“Yes, honey,” Tom says, his voice tinged with a sweetness that makes my chest tighten. “I know, princess. I miss you, too.”

I stop mid-step, gripping the railing so hard my knuckles turn white. There it is again—that affectionate lilt in his voice, the kind that sends my mind spiraling. I thought I could ignore it, pretend it didn’t bother me, but hearing it now, right before heading out to dinner together, feels like a punch to the gut.

“It’s definitely not the same without you here,” Tom continues, oblivious to the way my heart is clenching.

I can’t take it anymore. I step down the last few stairs, my heels clicking loudly against the wood, and Tom glances up, startled. His phone is still pressed to his ear, but his eyes widen when he sees me. For a second, he looks guilty, like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“Yeah, I’ll call you tomorrow,” he says quickly into the phone, his gaze never leaving mine. “Love you.”

He ends the call, and the silence that follows is thick and suffocating. I cross my arms over my chest, trying to hold myself together as anger and confusion swirl inside me.

“You look?—”

“Who were you talking to?”

Tom hesitates, his brows furrowing as if he’s trying to gauge how much to say. “Just—just checking in.”

“With who?” I press, my voice sharper than I intend. “Your girlfriend? Your wife?”

Tom’s eyes widen, and he opens his mouth, but no words come out. He’s caught off guard, and it just makes my frustration bubble over. I’ve been second-guessing everything—this trip, my choices, this stupid attraction to him—and now, it feels like all the pieces are finally coming together in the worst possible way.

“Clara, it’s not?—”

“Not what?” I snap, stepping closer. “Not what it looks like? Because it looks a lot like you’ve been sneaking around, calling someone honey, acting like you’re not…I don’t know…committed?”

He runs a hand through his hair, his expression twisting into something pained. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it?” I demand, my voice cracking under the weight of everything I’ve been holding back. “Because I don’t want to be this person again—the one who gets caught up in something she doesn’t understand. I don’t want to be that girl, Tom. And I told you, repeatedly. But stupid little old Clara, none the wiser. You know? Not even two months ago, my boyfriend of six years got married to someone he’d met in college. They saw each other by chance and the very next day he broke up with me. Then, the man—boy, really—I dated after him broke up with me and married the girl he started dating after me, all in the span of eight months. And this past November, I found out that the man—another boy—I’d been dating for almost a year had been engaged the whole time. So please, tell me exactly what it’s like.”

He takes a deep breath, his gaze fixed on the floor as if searching for the right words. When he finally speaks, his voice is quieter, tinged with a vulnerability I haven’t heard before. “I was talking to my daughter.”

The room falls silent, and I blink, taken aback. Of all the things I was expecting him to say, this wasn’t one of them. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. My thoughts are a tangled mess, trying to catch up with the reality of what he’s just revealed.

“Your daughter?” I echo, my voice small, almost disbelieving.

“Yeah,” Tom says, his shoulders slumping, like he’s been carrying this weight for far too long. “Ellie, Elizabeth. She’s nine. She was supposed to be here with me, but she got snowed in in New York with her mom. We had this whole trip planned and now…” He trails off, his eyes clouded with guilt and regret.

I stand there, stunned. Suddenly, everything I’ve been feeling—jealousy, confusion, anger—feels misplaced, like I’ve been fighting a battle that didn’t even exist. I swallow hard, trying to process it all. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Tom shrugs, his expression pained. “I don’t know. I guess I just… I didn’t want to bring it up. This trip was supposed to be for her, for us. I’ve been divorced for five years, and it’s been… It’s been hard, you know? Balancing everything. And I didn’t want you to think—” He stops, taking a shaky breath. “I didn’t want you to think I was some mess dragging my kid into all this. ”

I soften at his words, the raw honesty in them. I can see now that he’s been trying to shield something precious, and the weight of it all is written in the lines of his face. “I’m sorry,” I say quietly, guilt washing over me. “I just… I thought?—”

“You thought I was hiding something,” he finished for me, nodding slowly. “And I was. Just not what you thought.”

We stand there, a fragile silence stretching between us. I don’t know what to say, how to bridge the gap that’s grown between us over something that never should have been a secret in the first place. I look at Tom, at the weariness in his eyes, and I realize he’s not the polished, put-together guy I first assumed.

“Almost four years ago, my then-boyfriend and I were visiting his hometown to celebrate his grandmother’s eightieth birthday. We’d been together for years, living together for two of them at that point.”

Tom nods, taking a step closer to me, but I stop him with my hand, because I want to get this out. I’ve only spoken to a handful of people about this—no one really knows the exact details of that breakup, but something in the way he’s looking at me makes me compelled to tell him.

“One day, literally out of the blue, he breaks up with me. Like, I did not see it coming at all. As a matter of fact, I thought we were going to get married. One minute I’m sitting in his parents’ house having coffee, the next, I’m on a bus headed back to the city to move out of our place. And I had to move back to my parents’ house, which is not that big of a deal, but it did a number on my confidence. Like, how delusional was I that I thought I was going to marry that guy and then the next day it was over?”

I smile, but my eyes fill with tears. I’m definitely over that breakup, but it did so much to my confidence that I’m not yet recovered.

“Come to find out, his college crush showed up to his hometown by a complete act of coincidence and, I don’t know, he saw a chance? Didn’t want to get confused, so he got rid of me, just like that.” I snap my fingers. “They got married, and she moved to his tiny small town, something we had never even discussed and I would have done in a heartbeat.”

“Shit,” he mutters as he reaches for my hand. “I’m sorry.”

“And every person I’ve dated since, for the past three years or so once I’ve decided to get back out there, has found the one immediately after they broke up with me. Some of them while we were together. So, like…get where I’m coming from? I never know if it’s real or not. If they’ve been seeing someone behind my back or they really aren’t that much into me, or never really loved me… ”

“Oh, Jesus,” he adds, and pulls me towards him, our bodies colliding. “I’m so sorry.”

I nod, feeling the weight of his words settle in my chest.

“It’s been a difficult few years,” I say with a sad smile. “And it’s been one after the other, and it’s hit me like a bag of bricks. So then, as you can imagine, I come here to this paradise on earth to find myself ,” I say as I roll my eyes, “and end up finding something—someone—else. And I’m so confused…”

“Same.” He chuckles, lifting his hand and tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear.

“You love her a lot,” I say softly, my voice filled with an understanding I didn’t have before.

“More than anything,” Tom replies, his voice rough. “She’s my whole world. But my job…it takes me everywhere. And I don’t want to be away from her, but I have to be, and it’s just… It’s a mess.”

“I get it,” I say, and I mean it.

Tom looks at me, his eyes searching mine, and for the first time, there’s no pretense, no walls. Just him, laid bare, struggling to keep it all together. “I didn’t mean to drag you like this,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t plan for any of this.”

“Neither did I,” I say, and it’s the truth. I didn’t plan for any of this—this trip, this villa, this man who’s become so much more than a stranger sharing my space. I take a step closer, closing the already small gap between us. “But I’m glad we’re here.”

Tom’s eyes soften and he cups my cheek. It’s a simple touch, but it feels like a promise, like maybe we can figure this out, even if my trip ends in six days. “So am I,” he says, his thumb brushing gently under my eye. “So am I.”