Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
ALEJANDRA
The past few days have been tough.
Clara and I have barely spoken to each other since she asked for some time to process everything. When I’d said I’d give her that, I’d meant it. But now . . . I can hardly think straight.
It’s not that we’re ignoring each other; it’s that the conversations we have right now feel forced and clunky to the point where neither of us starts one.
I hate this wall between us. And still, underneath all the fear and guilt, there’s this ache—deep and constant—for her.
For us. For the version of the future I didn’t even know I needed until her.
Clara told me to go to New York and made me promise I wouldn’t stay here because of her, but I still haven’t replied to any of the job offers, and I think it’s because I’m holding out for Isabella.
If my photography does well in her gallery, maybe I can finally focus on it as my art and passion, not just a career where I take pictures for catalogs or ads, which is what’s waiting for me in New York.
But even if that works out how I want it to, I’m starting to wonder if it’s already too late for Clara and me.
“Are you okay?” Diana asks for the third time in the last hour.
I offer a choppy nod, doing my best to smile.
I’m at her house with some of my family, loading up a van with everything we’ll need to take to the hotel.
Tomorrow, my sister is getting married at the Washington Park Arboretum in Seattle, so the majority of my family is staying out there so they don’t have to drive back home after the reception, which means all of our cars are being used to move things.
So far, Diana has packed her wedding dress, shoes, reception dress, and honeymoon bag into my car.
There’s not much more she can fit in there, but she won’t let me leave. She says it’s because she needs my help organizing things, but I think she wants to keep an eye on me, that she doesn’t quite trust that I won’t fall apart the second I’m out of sight. I must look as unsteady as I feel.
Clara is already at the hotel. She was able to request an earlier check-in date, so she’s been there since yesterday, and as much as I’m trying not to be upset at that, it’s hard not to.
And I miss her. I miss her to the point that I physically ache.
Our communication has never been this bad before, and it is the scariest thing I’ve endured with Clara. I’m worried we won’t see a way out of this.
What if this is the beginning of the end, and we’re both too afraid to say it out loud?
My phone buzzes, and for a split second, my heart leaps—maybe it’s Clara. But when I check the screen, it’s a message from Isabella.
Isabella 2:26 p.m.:
hey, Lily talked to Clara how are you holding up?
God, I can only imagine what was said in that conversation that’s got Isabella asking how I’m doing.
Alejandra 2:27 p.m.:
Hey i’m fine. how’s Clara?
Isabella 2:26 p.m.:
good, said she’s at the hotel, Lily and i are thinking of going down sooner to make sure she’s good.
Alejandra 2:27 p.m.:
That’s probably best.
Isabella 2:27 p.m.:
unless you want one of us to stay with you? you’re not driving in until tomorrow right?
Alejandra 2:27 p.m.:
right! but i’m okay, i’ll probably stay at diana’s tonight. she refuses to leave me out of sight
Isabella 2:27 p.m.:
good. do you need anything?
Alejandra 2:27 p.m.:
i’m good. thanks!
Isabella 2:27 p.m.:
Well, text us if you change your mind.
Alejandra 2:27 p.m.:
i will. drive safe!
I sigh, slowly tossing my phone to the side.
“Still nothing from Clara?” my mom asks, approaching me.
I shake my head. “You?”
“She texted to let me know she made it to the hotel. I called her after, but she wasn’t in a talking mood.”
“Neither one of us has been lately,” I say, hoping she won’t try to pull me into a conversation about what is going on between Clara and me.
My mom reaches over and squeezes my hand. “I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but you guys will figure this out, like you have everything else.”
We sit in silence for a while, and I can sense her holding something back, like there’s a question on the tip of her tongue, but I don’t ask.
Finally, she speaks. “So, New York, huh?”
I let out a slow breath. “Yeah.”
She nods, but concern fills her eyes. “Are you still thinking about going?” she asks, trying to sound neutral as if the answer doesn’t matter to her.
“No,” I admit, for the first time, out loud.
“Because of Clara?”
“Yes . . . and no.”
She tilts her head, patiently waiting for me to gather my words.
“I was so excited about getting a job offer from such a huge company, I didn’t stop to think about whether I was excited about the job itself.
I got caught up in the name. But the truth is, I wouldn’t love the work any more than I do now.
Probably less. It wouldn’t fulfill me, not really, and it would take me so far away from everyone I love.
I had blinders on. I think when a company with that kind of reputation shows interest in you, it’s hard not to want to drop everything to say, ‘I work there.’ It validates you.
Shows you’ve made it. But . . . it’s not worth everything I’d have to give up.
I wish I’d realized that sooner. And yeah .
. .” I add, softer now, “Clara’s part of the reason I don’t want to go.
Of course she is. How could she not be?”
She doesn’t say anything for a moment, just watches me carefully. “You love her.”
It’s not a question.
I nod slowly. “Yeah. I do.”
Even if I’m not certain we can find our way forward romantically, I know one thing for sure: I am absolutely in love with her. I know it even now, in the way my heart pulls toward her even when we’re not speaking.
Loving her doesn’t require effort; it just is.
I don’t know if we can fix what’s broken. I don’t even know if she wants to. But I do know this: I love her. And I don’t see that changing anytime soon.