Chapter 31
Claire
Brandon call came just as I was finishing the last of the dishes. I didn’t bother drying my hands; I just stared at the glowing screen and felt the smallest, dullest tug of apprehension.
I answered anyway, tucking the phone between my ear and shoulder as I wiped the counter.
“Hey,” I said, lightly.
“Claire, babe, listen…” His voice was hurried. “I’m sorry but I’ve got to cancel tomorrow night.”
My grip on the towel loosened. Third time this week.
“Big account?” I asked, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice.
“Yeah. I promise, I’ll make it up to you.”
He rarely did.
“It’s fine,” I said, forcing a smile. “Really.”
“You’re the best. Okay, I’ve gotta run.”
The silence afterward felt heavier than the conversation had.
I exhaled, rubbing my forehead, then dropped onto the couch with a sigh just as a text came through.
Sophie.
He ditched again? I swear I’ll key his car.
I smiled despite myself and called her.
Sophie picked up on the first ring. “Tell me you dumped him. Tell me you finally came to your senses.”
I groaned. “Sophie.”
“What? Brandon’s a cardboard cutout of a boyfriend. You deserve an actual human.”
“He’s steady,” I argued.
“Steady?” Sophie scoffed. “So is my husband, but I’d trade him for a house plant that didn’t flirt with every woman he meets.”
She should, I hated her husband.
Sophie’s husband was… complicated.
Charming. Loud. A little too friendly.
And far too interested in women who weren’t his wife.
“Has he said something again?” I asked quietly.
“No,” Sophie muttered. “Not this week.”
Which meant: yes, but Sophie didn’t want to talk about it.
“You know you don’t have to stay with him,” I said gently.
“We’ve talked about this.” Sophie’s voice went flat. “He’s a steady paycheck. I don’t need anything else.”
“That’s not good.”
“Claire,” Sophie cut in. “Not everyone gets love. Some of us settle for stability. And that’s okay.”
The words sounded overly harsh.
Because they sounded like a reflection of my own choices.
“You deserve better,” I repeated softly.
“So do you,” Sophie shot back. “At least I’m honest about settling.”
The line went quiet for a moment.
Then Sophie sighed and softened. “Look. Sorry. I’m just… tired.”
“I know,” I sighed.
We said goodnight shortly after, but I stared at the ceiling long after the call ended, the words settling, circling like a slow, sinking truth.
◆◆◆
The school hallways buzzed with the usual Thursday energy, kids shuffling backpacks, the squeak of sneakers, the distant hum of the copy machine. I loved my classroom most in the morning, when it still smelled faintly of crayons and lemon cleaner.
Lily sat at her desk, small shoulders hunched, a colored pencil gripped too tightly. She had been quieter since the session yesterday. Sad in a way that didn’t fit her.
I crouched beside her. “Want help with your drawing?”
Lily nodded, pushing the paper toward me. A picture of a house and three stick figures, one tall, one medium, one small.
As we worked, there was a shift in the air, a larger-than-life presence.
Ethan.
He didn’t come in. He lingered just outside the threshold, hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders tense like he was trying to take up less space. His expression was soft, almost hesitant, his eyes focused entirely on Lily.
He didn’t intrude.
He simply stood there, watching his niece with a tender look full of love, it had my heartbeat skipping in my chest.
I looked back down at the drawing quickly, pretending the moment hadn’t touched me.
◆◆◆
At the end of the day, I drove my car out of the school parking lot, happy to go home, my thoughts revolving around him. It was only when I was five minutes away from home, that the past forced its way forward, uninvited.
The memory surfaced before I could stop it, unfolding with a clarity that was unsettling.