37. Claire
37
CLAIRE
T he last week has been insane.
Sunday, Keller took me shopping. I vaguely expressed the desire to extend my wardrobe to maybe a few pairs of jeans and shorter skirts, and we came back home with thirty-two bags stuffed to the brim, finally filling my walk-in closet.
I still use my bedroom, though I never sleep alone there. We sleep in his bed or mine, but always together.
On Tuesday morning, at nine, before class, I had a meeting at Arlo's company. Keller accompanied me. I'm still not sure what happened?. A few minutes after we were shown to a conference room, the guy from Rothford's board who sort of saved me, sort of threw me to the wolves, walked in, and sat at the opposite end of the table, staring at me.
Then he turned to Keller. "You're seeing her, huh?"
"Yes, Uncle Eriks."
Fuck. So this is Eriks Goltz, the richest man in town. I should have known.
He shrugged. "Fine."
Arlo arrived a few moments later. "The girl of the moment!" He turns to Mr. Goltz. "Have you seen what she sent us?"
He emitted something between a snort and a grunt.
"I want it all. The unicorn, the dragon, the pegasus, the selkie, the mermaid, the ghost, the witch. Let's make it an entire series. I want exclusive use of the collection for two fifty, plus one percent of all profits on that collection."
Two hundred and fifty bucks , I thought like a reasonable person, and I immediately said yes. But when I was brought the paperwork, it turned out that it was two hundred and fifty thousand bucks. I almost fainted on the spot.
The money was transferred mere hours after my signature was on the dotted line. I kept babysitting, despite Lisa’s insistence it would be fine if I bowed out because I didn't need the job.
"No way. I love Vivi. But you can keep your money."
Wednesday, I changed my classes, dropping statistics and economics for graphic design, marketing, and art, completely changing the direction of my degree. The faculty didn't mind, because they're flexible, or because a certain grumpy, handsome, intimidating man told them it was fine.
I love all my classes. I adore every second I spend outside of them, too. I can't believe this is my life, but it is.
We're flying back home, first class, and despite the fancy snacks and a few sips of Keller’s glass of bubbly when no one paid attention, I'm more stressed than I've been all week.
Reaching for my hand across the armrest, Keller intertwines his fingers with mine and kisses the back of my palm. "It'll be just fine," he assures me.
He doesn't know my grandmother. The hundreds of texts she sent me say today will be anything but fine. I replied, sending back a couple of messages every day.
Me: It wasn't working. It's not just the distance.
Me: I'm sorry you're disappointed, but I wasn't in love with Noah. He wasn't in love with me either.
Me: Yes, I'll be there Friday.
Me: No, I don't want to speak to Noah anymore. We've said all that needs to be said on the subject.
Me: It's my life, Grandma.
If anything, my replies incensed her.
No, today won't be fine . But Keller's here, so he'll make it all better after.
* * *
F or the tenth time, I try to dissuade Keller from escorting me. “You’re sure you don’t want to, like, stay in the awesome suite?”
“What would I do in the suite?” he asks, genuinely baffled.
“Study?” I offer. But that’s stupid; he didn’t lug all his books along with him. “Or you could go shopping.”
If I learned one thing last week it’s that Keller genuinely loves shopping. Especially shopping for stuff for me to wear. Whenever I wear the clothes he picked, I catch a look of smug appreciation. And he adores removing them from me.
“In Michigan ?” he says, the same way some people might say, in hell. “Do you guys even have decent shopping places here?”
I think for a second. “I’d be offended, but I truly don’t know.”
Firstly, because I don’t know what stores he would consider decent, and secondly, because I could never have afforded them, or been allowed to shop there before, so I never looked.
“I’m not going to barge in and introduce myself to your grandmother,” he reassures me, pinpointing the reason behind my hesitancy. “You have good reasons to not want that yet. I’ll respect it. But you’re also going in knowing that this will be a fucking terrible time. So I’ll be there. At the cafe. I checked—there’s one a few doors away from her room. You deal with her, you come find me when you’re done, and we’ll go shopping. How about that?”
He truly does get me, doesn’t he? He cuts through all the bullshit, straight to my problem, and dishing out nothing but support and reassurance. It’s crazy that he’s able to understand me so well, so fast.
“In Michigan?” I echo his outraged tone. “I don’t think so.”
“Then we’ll just have to stay in our awesome suite. Try to find a way to occupy our time.” He grins.
That sounds good to me.