Chapter 27 Six Fifteen
Six Fifteen
Liam
Icouldn’t listen anymore.
“I don’t make you coffee to be generous, Claire.”
The words stopped her. She finally looked up from her hands, her eyes wide and confused.
“I grind those beans every morning because I know the sound will pull you out of your room.” I leaned forward, elbow on my knees.
“I do it because I get to see you. You’re always half-asleep, your hair is a mess, and you’re wrapped in that giant hoodie with the glitter glue on the sleeve. You’ve got no makeup on and you’re squinting against the light.”
I held her gaze, letting her see the truth of it in my eyes. “I love that I get to be the person who sees you first, every day.”
I dragged a hand through my hair, the frustration at myself a hot knot in my chest.
“And I didn’t say any of this to you.
I wanted to. I hesitated. Because I thought… if you left now, it would hurt. But if we started something and then you left?”
Imagining it made my stomach twist.
“I don’t know that I could go through that again.”
I saw the confusion on her face, the struggle to process it all. I couldn’t let her pull away. Not now.
I reached out and grabbed her hands. They were cold. Mine were shaking.
“Every time I let someone in, they leave,” I whispered.
There was no pulling it back now. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
“Remember that picture? The one in the hall you asked about? The woman you thought looked like a younger you?”
She gave a small, hesitant nod.
“Her name was Nora.
College sweetheart.
The woman I planned to spend the rest of my life with.
Until her car went off the road during an ice storm.”
Claire’s hands tightened around mine. She blinked fast, but a single tear traced down her cheek.
“It left a hole in me. A big, empty one.
For a long time, I just… existed. I was just going through the motions. I was a ghost in my own life.
She loved to cook. So I started cooking. It was the only way I knew to feel close to her again.”
I looked down at our hands, my thumbs absently tracing over her knuckles.
“But now… now I realize I don’t just want to cook. I want to share the meal. With someone who challenges me. Someone who teases me about my basil.” A faint, tired smile touched my lips, and I saw one flicker across hers in return. “Someone I can just sit quietly with.”
I looked up, holding her gaze again, squeezing her hands a little tighter.
“I want to share all that with you, Claire.”
My gaze cut to the skyline behind her, to the lights starting to glitter in the dusk.
And when I see you packing… it feels like losing all over again.
It’s why I haven’t been home much. It hurts too much to be here, knowing you’re already halfway out the door.”
Now she knew. Everything. The whole truth. Out in the open where I couldn’t take it back.
My shoulders slumped forward, the fight draining out of me. I just stared at our joined hands, waiting.
“You’ve been so distant,” she whispered.
My head snapped up. Her eyes were glistening, searching mine.
“I thought…” she swallowed. “When you started spending more time out of the apartment, and stopped speaking to me in the morning… I thought you regretted letting me stay here.”
My silence. My disappearing acts. I’d made her think she was a burden.
She pulled one hand from mine. Her fingers came up to my cheek. Her thumb brushed my cheek, with a soft, slow stroke. I leaned into it, my eyes shutting.
“I started looking for apartments because this was supposed to be temporary.
And then you stopped being around. I thought I’d overstayed my welcome. That you were being polite, waiting for me to take the hint. I thought if I told you I was looking you might have felt obligated to tell me it’s okay to stay.”
I was so worked up over her leaving that I made it easier for her to leave.
I brought my hand up, covering hers where it rested on my cheek, holding it there.
I opened my eyes. Her eyes, that warm honey-brown I watched every morning over coffee, were fixed on me.
“But that’s not the only reason I didn’t tell you I was looking,” she said, her voice low.
“Telling you I was looking… it would have been me saying this was over. Just a temporary arrangement that ran its course.”
My thumb moved over her knuckles. I didn’t speak. I just listened.
“That I was just your roommate. And that I was moving on.”
I brought her hand down from my cheek, lacing our fingers together again. I held on.
“It would have ended whatever we really were before we figured it out.”
I brought her hand to my mouth and pressed my lips against her knuckles. I held them there for just a second.
I lowered our hands, but I didn’t let go. My lips still tingled from the press of her skin.
“You not telling me…” I started, my voice rough. I tried again, softer. “It hurt because I wanted more. Not less. I thought I was being obvious.”
Her brow furrowed slightly.
“Claire, for years, I didn’t let anyone in.
I made coffee for one. I cooked for one.
I ate alone at the dining room table. I read alone on that chair.
” I gestured vaguely toward the door with my free hand.
“Then you were here. And I was making coffee for two. Cooking for two. Buying four kinds of milk.”
A short, quiet laugh escaped me. It sounded tired. “I thought I was shouting it. But I guess…”
I watched the realization dawn on her face.
She looked down at our joined hands. “I saw it, eventually,” she whispered. “I just…well after you started to pull away, I figured I had it all wrong.”
She took in a long slow breath. “I’m used to being the one who fixes things for other people. The one who watches other relationships work. I’m usually on the sidelines. I’ve just gotten used to that.”
Her thumb brushed across mine, a nervous, fleeting touch.
Claire’s gaze dropped to our hands, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.
“And you’re… you. Liam Callahan. You are kind and thoughtful.
You’re a terrific cook. You’re easy to be with.
And… well… I mean you have a mirror so you have to know what you look like.
That morning you came in without a shirt on, I thought my brain was going to short circuit. ”
A slow grin spread across my face. It wasn’t just in my head. The attraction was a two-way street.
“Liam, let’s be serious. You could have anyone. It just made more sense that what I was seeing was you being a nice thoughtful guy.”
There it was. Her own wound, laid bare next to mine. She didn’t see herself as someone to be chosen. To be wanted. To be treasured.
I gently cupped her chin, guiding her gaze back to me. I held her gaze, making sure she heard every word. "For ten years, I didn't let anyone in. You made me want to try to be someone who shares his life.”
My thumb stroked her jaw.
I took a breath.
“So, Claire,” I said, my voice a little rough. “Would you go out on a date with me?”
A slow smile spread across her face. She understood the game. “Why, Liam,” she said, her tone playful. “I’d love to. What do you have in mind?”
I leaned in closer, our hands still linked between us. “I don’t know if you know this,” I said, a grin tugging at my mouth. “But I’m an excellent cook.”
She rolled her eyes, but she was laughing. “I might have heard a rumor.”
“I was thinking,” I continued. “Lemon risotto. With asparagus. Would you like to have dinner with me?”
“Sure,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “What time?”
“Six-thirty.”
She nodded, her expression turning thoughtful. “Can I bring anything?”
“Just yourself.”
“Well then,” she said, squeezing my hand before gently pulling hers away. “Let me go finish some last-minute odds and ends for work. I’ll see you at six-fifteen.”
I must have looked surprised.
She stood up, a soft smile on her lips. “I’ll set the table. For our date.”
I stood too, closing the small distance between us. I bent down, resting my forehead against hers. I could feel her breath on my skin. “Perfect,” I whispered.
The slider door clicked shut behind her. I sat in the chair she’d just left. Her chair. It still held the faint warmth from her. My gaze landed on the two books on the table. Star maps. I’d almost forgotten about them.
My fingers closed around the top one. The cover was smooth. I flipped it open.
A slip of paper, tucked right at the beginning. Her neat, precise writing.
This constellation is my favorite to find. I’m available for star-gazing tours.
The note nearly slipped from my fingers. I read it again. Then again.
She’d written this earlier. Before I told her anything. She had been looking for her own place, while asking me to stay in her life.
I leaned back in the chair, holding her note. The city lights glittered in the distance. It might have taken ten years, but I finally found her.
A slow smile spread across my face. 6:15 couldn’t come soon enough.