Chapter 19 #3
“Let’s dance,” she shouts, leading the group toward the dance floor.
We all follow, squeezing through the crowd.
People throw us annoyed looks for cutting through their space, though honestly, maybe they’re just annoyed at me, because when I glance back at Clara, women are happily stepping to the side, smiling at her, giving her all sorts of sex eyes, and I can’t help my twinge of jealousy at the way all these women look at her.
But it quickly fades when I realize Clara isn’t paying attention to any of them; she only has eyes for me, utterly oblivious to the sea of longing women in her path.
Clara reaches for my hand, and the rush of emotions hits me hard. This stunning, brilliant, incredible woman is here with me. How did I get so lucky?
I can’t hold back. I throw myself into her arms, pressing my lips to hers. She gasps in surprise, but it only takes a second before she melts into the kiss.
Somewhere behind us, our friends start cheering and whistling, laughing and shouting things like “Finally!” and “Get a room!”
As I start to laugh into the kiss, I hear it.
“Wow.” Flat. Cold. Drenched in sarcasm. It cuts through the noise like a blade, and every hair on my neck stands on end.
The voice freezes me. I haven’t heard it in months, but I know it like a scar you forget about until it’s touched.
My stomach clenches, a cold rush of panic floods my chest. I pull back from Clara enough to turn, slow and stiff, every part of me bracing.
“Mia,” I breathe out, the name catching hard in my throat.
Her dark eyes lock on me, and a chill runs down my spine. They’re full of judgment, bitterness, and maybe even a little hurt. But it’s buried beneath layers of indifference she’s practiced well.
Clara’s hand tightens around mine. She pulls me closer, stepping in front of me and cupping my face. “You okay?” she whispers.
I squeeze Clara’s hand, grounding myself before nodding. But it’s shaky, and we both know it.
“It’s always the ones they tell you not to worry about,” Mia says, looking straight at me, then flicking her gaze to Clara.
Clara stiffens beside me.
“Mia, don’t . . . please.” The words come out way softer than I want, and I hate how small I sound.
“Is this why you wanted to stop seeing each other? To be with Clara?”
Her voice isn’t loud, but I hear it clearly.
“What? No, of course not.” I step toward her without thinking, instinct pulling me forward, wanting—needing—to reassure her. But Clara’s hand is still laced in mine. That simple touch stops me cold.
When Clara lets go, my heart feels heavy with the loss. Like I messed up without meaning to.
“Can we talk? Privately?” Mia asks, her eyes practically drilling a hole through Clara.
I turn to Clara, unsure.
“Go,” she says, her voice steady and her smile tight.
I reach for her, cupping her face in my hands, and kiss her, trying to pour every bit of reassurance I can into it, trying to say, This isn’t me walking away.
She kisses me back hard, fiercely, like she’s afraid this might be the last time.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Mia snaps.
I pull away from Clara, my forehead resting against hers for a second longer. Then I turn to Mia, who shakes her head at me before taking my hand and guiding me toward a table near the bar.
I glance back at Clara, my stomach twisting. She’s surrounded by our friends now, one hand rubbing her forehead.
She’s not looking at me. And somehow, that hurts most of all.
I turn back to find Mia’s eyes watching me. Softer than they were around Clara.
“It sucks,” she says quietly, voice low but raw, “seeing you with her.”
“Why? You broke up with me, remember?” I try to keep my voice steady despite the knot in my chest.
“I know,” she says, shrugging it off, “but since we stopped talking these last few months, I’ve realized I still care . . . a lot.” Her voice cracks as she reaches out slowly, her hand finding mine. The touch is warm, and it makes the pit in my stomach grow. “I want us back.”
“Mia,” I whisper, blinking back tears as my heart clenches so hard it might shatter.
“I should’ve reached out sooner, but I was scared,” she confesses, her thumb gently stroking my hand. “Seeing you with Clara . . . it made me realize I had to tell you.” She pauses, biting her lip. “I want us to try again. If you’re even a little open to it, I’m here.”
My throat is tight, caught between emotions I don’t know how to sort out.
I stare down at Mia’s hand wrapped around mine, the warmth of her touch stirring something deep inside me.
For years, I loved Mia. I wanted her always, forever.
Until a few months ago, that was the only truth I knew.
That is, until Clara . . . What she and I have is tender, delicate, and real in a way that’s both beautiful and terrifying.
It’s a love that can grow without burning me down, that fills a space in me I thought would forever be empty.
I want Mia’s fire, but I crave Clara’s calm. I feel the weight of it crushing down, my mind a storm of “what ifs” and “maybes.” How do I choose between the comfort of a love I’ve known for years and the promise of something fresh, something soft and real?
I ache for both, but when I think about it with my heart and not my head, the answer is so simple.
I squeeze Mia’s hand gently, then, slowly, I pull away enough to look into her face, my voice breaking. “Mia . . . I love you. I always will. You held such an important part in my life for so long. But . . . what I have with Clara, I can’t lose.”
“You don’t have to,” she whispers, her voice breaking as she grabs my hand back, her grip both desperate and gentle. “I promise I won’t fight you on your friendship with Clara anymore. All I want is you.”
I shake my head softly, my heart heavy. “No, that’s not what I mean. I mean . . . I want my future with Clara.”
Mia’s eyes flash with hurt and anger. “You want to throw us away over a flimsy connection to Clara? After everything we’ve been through? You think what you have with her is so much stronger?”
“Yes,” I reply, as anger starts to build. “And for the record, you threw us away. I severed a connection that was way overdue. You don’t love me, Mia. You just don’t want to see me move on.”
Mia’s eyes darken with pain, and she tightens her grip on my hand. “So that’s it? You’d rather walk away from everything we had for some uncertain future with her?”
I meet her gaze, steady now. “It’s not uncertain to me. It’s the only future that feels real. You taught me what love isn’t. Clara is showing me what love can be. I’m done living in the shadow of what we were. Clara makes me happy, Mia.”
She scoffs. “I fucking knew it. You were with me, but your eyes? They were glued to her. I wasn’t just imagining things, was I?”
She turns to where Clara is standing, her eyes blazing. “Every damn time . . .” She scoffs as she walks toward Clara.
When she reaches her, her voice starts rising with every word.
“Every damn time we hung out, you looked at her like she was your little secret. Guess she was. I used to tell myself I was paranoid. That I was being insecure. Turns out, I was right.” Her gaze sharpens.
“You’ve been waiting for her to notice you, haven’t you? One moment. One excuse to make a move.”
My blood feels like it’s about to bubble over.
How dare Mia act like this when it was she who was never really present in our relationship? When she ended us.
I step forward, the words spilling out before I can stop them.
“You’ve got some nerve, Mia. We broke up years ago.
What are you doing? Why are you picking a fight with Clara?
You don’t get to demand answers from us.
Nothing ever happened between us while you and I were together, and that’s all you need to know.
You want to start blaming me for our relationship not working?
That’s fine, but we both know it was you who gave up. Don’t act like you suddenly care.”
Mia flinches, but I don’t stop.
“We’ve been done for years. What Clara and I do—it’s not your business.”
“What’s going on here?” Lily interrupts, eyeing all three of us.
“Mia is leaving,” I say sternly.
Mia scoffs, folding her arms. “I just wanted some honesty. Clearly, that’s too much to ask.”
“No,” I snap, stepping toward her. “You wanted drama. You wanted to stir something up so you could feel like you still mattered in this conversation. But you don’t. Not anymore.”
Her eyes narrow, but I don’t let her interrupt.
“You want to talk about honesty? Fine. Let’s talk.
You checked out on us long before you broke up with me.
While I was pouring my heart out, fighting to hold us together, you were already gone, lost in everything but me.
For months, years even, I reached for you, begged for you, tried to fix what was breaking.
And when we finally broke up, what did you want?
A booty call. No care, no respect for the fact that I was still in love with you, still drowning in those memories, clinging to the possibility of an us because every time we met, you made it seem like there could still be one when you knew there wasn’t.
So don’t you dare stand there, pretending you’re the one who got hurt. ”
Mia’s mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
Clara shifts beside me, silent but steady, and Lily watches, stunned into silence.
“This conversation is over. Bye, Mia.” I grab Clara’s hand and pul her deeper onto the dance floor with me.
Mia lets out a bitter laugh behind us, but I don’t look back. We slip into the crowd, her presence fading with every step. When I’m sure she’s gone, I finally exhale, my taut muscles relaxing.
Clara gently pulls me into a hug, her arms wrapping around me like an anchor. I melt into it, grounding myself in her calm.
Her breath brushes my ear as she whispers, “I’m so fucking proud of you for standing up for yourself.”
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, my voice muffled against her shoulder.
Clara squeezes me tighter. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for.” Then she leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips. In that moment, the last of the tension melts away, replaced by a warm reassurance that I made the right choice.
“Ahem.”
We break apart as Lily clears her throat, not even trying to hide her smirk. “Wow. This fake relationship is looking real convincing.”
Isabella lets out a low whistle behind her. “Academy Award-worthy, honestly.”
Clara laughs and rests her forehead against mine, still holding me close. “We’re committed to the bit,” she jokes.
For a moment, I forget there was ever any pretending at all. And then, like some kind of chaotic fairy godmother, my sister stumbles into the circle.
“Why is everyone standing around all serious?” she slurs, throwing her arms around Valeria in a loose hug. “Come on, boring people, dance!”
Before anyone can respond, she grabs my hand with dramatic flair and starts pulling me toward the middle of the floor.
Clara laughs and follows. Soon, all of us are dancing without a care. And for the first time that night, everything feels light.
The way Clara’s hair falls around her face, the way she looks at me when she’s caught up in the rhythm of the music, it’s intoxicating.
We find ourselves on the dance floor, bodies close.
Her hands are on me, guiding me, pulling me closer, and every moment feels like it’s suspended in time.
I’m caught in a daze, the night blurs around us in flashes of color, bursts of laughter, music thudding through the floor, and every time Clara’s eyes find mine, I swear the volume drops, the lights dim, and the world narrows to just her.
And in that quiet, in that stillness, only she can create, I can’t help but wonder how I’ve never noticed how perfect she is for me.
I pull her in for another kiss, a long, deep one that tastes like everything I didn’t know I was missing until now.
Her lips are soft, sure, familiar in a way that feels impossible.
Her hands slide up to cup my face, and for a second, I forget the people surrounding us.
Forget that any of this started as a lie, that I just got into a screaming match with my ex.
All I know is that the way she holds me is everything I’ve needed.