Chapter Thirty-Seven
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVE N
CLAIRE
I’m unable to suppress my smile as I grab Mark’s hand and drag him to the living room where the laptop is opened on the coffee table.
"Look!" I point at the screen once we’re close enough, and he bends down, squinting to read it.
It takes Mark a moment to register what he’s looking at, but once he sees my name highlighted, he straightens up and looks at me with raised eyebrows. "You aced both of your classes?"
"Yep!" I beam.
His smile grows, and he pulls me into his arms. "Claire, that’s amazing! Your first ever college semester and you managed that. I’m so proud of you." He squeezes me tight, and I lay my head against his chest. I’m smiling, but my eyes fill with tears at his words. He’s proud of me . It seems like such a small thing, hardly something to cry over, but those four words mean more to me than I could possibly explain to him.
After being forced to diminish myself for so long and being chastised for my curiosity growing up, here I am being praised for my desire to learn. Not only that, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard those words directed toward me by anyone. Simply knowing that someone who cares about me is proud of my accomplishments is enough to overwhelm me with joy.
I attempt to discreetly wipe my eyes, but Mark catches the action, pulling back slightly to look down at me. "Are you okay?" His expression is etched with concern.
I laugh through the tears. "Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little emotional that I was actually able to do this. I couldn’t have done it without you."
"You could have," he says gently, reaching up to brush a tear from my cheek and resting his hand there to cup my face.
I shake my head. "No, I couldn’t have. It would’ve taken me years to save up the money for classes after finding a place to live, and you’ve been paying me way more than necessary on top of that so that I haven’t needed to work otherwise. Seriously, I can’t thank you enough."
"I may have helped you get started, but you did all the hard work. It was your willpower and intelligence that allowed you to succeed."
Smiling up at him, I say, "Thank you" and attempt to hold back the fresh wave of tears coming to my eyes. He’s partly right—I did work hard to excel in my classes—but I never would have had the means to take them in the first place had he not decided to offer me a place to stay and a way to earn money. Not only that, but his ongoing support has motivated me to do my very best.
I want his approval, his pride, his affection. I want to make him proud. And as he stares down at me with a soft smile, I wonder if he can see in my expression just how much he means to me. It’s so much more than I’ve been willing to admit, too afraid to scare him off, but with the way he’s looking at me, I can’t help but think he feels the same way I do.
Mark leans forward to pull me against him again, and he softly kisses the top of my head before pulling away.
"How would you feel about going to dinner to celebrate?" he asks.
"That sounds wonderful. I’m supposed to have a therapy appointment at three, but—" I’m about to tell him I can cancel it, but he interrupts.
"I’ll drive you there, and we can grab dinner afterward."
"Deal."
A few hours later, I’m sitting in the room with Dr. Lawrence telling her about all the developments I’ve had with Mark. I even tell her about going to the club, knowing now that she’ll listen with an open mind and provide advice where it’s needed.
"So, do you feel like things are getting more serious between you and Mark?" she asks after I update her on all that’s happened.
"I do, but we both agreed that we’d do this as a no-strings-attached situation."
"And how do you feel about that now? I know last time we talked, you were conflicted."
I think for a moment before answering. "I don’t know. I’m happy with how things are going right now, but it doesn’t feel like what we agreed to at first. I know you said last time we talked that I shouldn’t put my feelings on the back burner, but it’s like we’re in limbo right now where we won’t admit feelings even though they’re there. We basically act like a couple already. We spend almost all of our free time together, we live together, we show affection, and he’s even taking me out to dinner tonight because he said he’s proud of me for acing my classes this semester."
Dr. Lawrence nods. "That’s wonderful that he’s acknowledging your accomplishments in a way that you appreciate. So, if things were to continue down the same path in your relationship, saying it’s no strings attached but acting in these ways, how would you feel?"
"Well… I guess I would like to actually be his girlfriend," I admit. It’s not something I’ve said aloud yet, but it’s something I’ve thought about increasingly over the last couple of months. "But I think he still has some weird relationship hang-ups, and I don’t want to scare him away by telling him that when we agreed that wouldn’t happen."
"Yes, you agreed to these terms with him at first, but sometimes life is more complicated than what a predetermined set of rules will allow. If you play by his rules and minimize your own feelings in the process, that’s not fair to you."
"So, I should tell him that I want more from the relationship?"
"Ultimately, it’s your choice. Just be prepared for him to hold up his boundaries as well, because he does have the right to end the arrangement if you’re not on the same page anymore."
I swallow hard but nod, already dreading the conversation with him but hoping that just maybe it will go well. I don’t want to consider the alternative. But I know Dr. Lawrence is right; I’m not being fair to myself by trying to suppress my emotions for his sake.
I need to tell him how I feel, and it will either be the catalyst to a life-changing relationship or a massive mistake. And I won’t know which one until I take the leap.
"I’ll tell him," I say, more to myself than to Dr. Lawrence.
She nods. "Okay. I hope it goes well for you, Claire. And I hope you have a lovely dinner tonight. See you next week?"
"Yeah." I stand and thank her before heading out, and Mark is waiting in the parking lot with the windows rolled down, listening to some obnoxiously loud rock music.
When he sees me, a smile forms on his lips and he reaches to turn down the radio. "Hey, how’d it go?"
"Good," I say, plastering on a fake smile. I’m not planning on telling him tonight—at least, I don’t think I am—but my heart is racing like I’ve just ran a mile. But if I don’t tell him tonight, how long am I going to put it off and allow myself to stress about it? Dr. Lawrence and I have had a similar conversation about this situation multiple times now. I can’t just keep going in circles like this.
Mark takes my hand in his as he pulls out of the parking lot. "Awesome. Let’s get some food, then. I’m starving."
My stomach twists, but not with hunger, and on the drive to the restaurant, I try to convince myself that the conversation will go well whenever it happens. That he’ll admit my feelings are reciprocated and we’ll live happily ever after.
I just hope I’m right, because the alternative is too painful to consider.