Chapter 17
Claire
Light filters through my window on Saturday morning, and I groan in my half-asleep state.
It’s the morning after the engagement party, and my social battery is completely drained.
All I want to do today is lie in bed and read a good book as a reward for finishing my synopsis.
Ryan hasn’t gotten back to me yet with his thoughts, but I’m in break mode until I hear from him.
And thinking of Ryan reminds me of last night—how I watched him leave as soon as Zach finished his humiliating speech.
I have to talk to Zach.
I’d put on a brave face last night at the party, but certain things aren’t sitting right.
First of all, I don’t like surprises. And these back-to-back surprises have been too much for me.
But besides that, the comments he made during his speech…
Well, let’s just say I’m shocked. Not only did he let it slip that the only reason he proposed was to have somewhere to live, but he very publicly claimed that he has no intention of working and will be relying on me to support us.
Neither of those things is okay.
So I’m going to talk to him today. I need to be brave and say my piece.
Groggy, I step out of bed and rub my eyes, stumbling to the bathroom. I look like a wreck. I was so exhausted last night, I didn’t wash off any of my makeup or undo my hair. First step, shower. If I want to have any ground to stand on with Zach, I need to get myself together.
An hour later, I’m showered and coffee-ed, and I step out my door, grabbing my keys off the hook. One glance at my left hand reminds me that I forgot my engagement ring. With a groan, I rush back into the bathroom and grab it off the sink.
It’s bad, but I haven’t felt the need to buy a cute little ring bowl or anything to keep it safe.
It’s probably because it’s fake, and Zach already said not to worry about losing it.
I’m also not really attached to the look of it.
It’s too…ostentatious. I’d love something understated and classic.
That’s probably something I should bring up with him when it’s time to buy a real diamond ring.
Slipping the ring on my finger, I rush to the front door and lock it behind me. On the drive over to Zach’s house, I remind myself of the points I want to make to him. First off, no more surprises. And second… Well, what IS the point to make about his confession? Just to find out the truth?
My heart sinks as the words he spoke settle in more and more. He wouldn’t have proposed if his parents hadn’t wanted him out. Was he planning on ever getting married?
I need to be brave and direct and ask him myself.
And if he says no, that he wasn’t planning on getting married…then what? Would I call off the engagement? Break up with him entirely?
A weird sensation comes over me. One that feels like…relief. And freedom and excitement.
Oh, no. Rein it in, Claire.
I pull into Mike and Julie’s driveway and give myself a pep talk as I walk to the front door. Be brave. Tell him what you need. Don’t shy away from the truth. I knock on the door, berating myself for my trembling fist.
Julie opens the door, her wide eyes full of surprise. “Claire! I didn’t know you were coming.”
“I didn’t announce it. Is Zach up? We need to talk.”
She grimaces, and I know in that instant she knows why I’m here. “I’m not sure. But you know where he is.”
I smile and nod, then head over to the basement door.
Basements in California are extremely rare.
Most people think we can’t have them because of the earthquake risk, but they’re actually structurally sound.
Mike and Julie had their basement added when Zach and I were kids, and we thought it was the coolest thing.
We’d play hide and seek down there for hours.
Now, as I open the doors and descend to Zach’s room, it hits me that he’s still playing hide and seek, hanging out in the basement and hiding away from real responsibilities.
“Zach? Are you awake?” I call down the stairs.
“Claire? What are you doing here?” His voice sounds groggy, but not asleep.
“I wanted to talk to you,” I yell back. I descend the final step and look at him in bed, his hair tousled and his phone in his hands.
He grins at me and sits up. “Well, this is a nice morning welcome.” He opens his arms wide for me, and I sit on his bed and give him a hug. “Hang on one sec, let me finish this text to Tyson.”
I sit patiently, waiting for him to finish up his message while looking around his room. It’s messy, but that’s no surprise. He has a computer with three monitors on his desk, his headset slung over one of them. The gaming chair he uses probably cost more than my engagement ring.
Speaking of which, I look down at it and twist it around on my finger. Am I going to still be wearing it after this conversation?
Zach sets his phone down and looks up at me. “Okay. What’s up?”
“We need to talk about last night.”
He groans. “I knew you were going to be upset about the party. No surprises, right?” He shakes his head. “It was our moms. I tried to tell them you’d hate being surprised. We all know this. Even when I proposed you looked like a deer in headlights. But I couldn’t talk them out of it.”
“Oh.” There goes the wind in my sails. I feel deflated, some of my righteous indignation floating away. “Well, yes. But thank you for trying to stick up for me.”
“Of course.” He rubs my shoulder. “I got you.”
His tender words melt my heart, thawing the layer of ice that built up over the last twelve hours. My shoulders slump a little. “Okay. But we also need to talk about that speech.”
He grimaces and scratches the back of his head. “Do we?” At least he seems a little ashamed for his brazen words.
“Yes,” I say firmly. “I need to know the truth. Did you really only propose because your parents are kicking you out?”
“No.” There’s no hesitation, only pure confidence.
I’m taken aback by his assurance. “Okay,” I say, drawing out the word. “Then explain what you said yesterday.”
He steeples his hands in front of his chest. “So, look. Maybe the timeline got moved up a little more quickly than expected. But you’re endgame, Claire. We’re meant to be together, and I’ve always known that.”
“Then what WAS the timeline?” I ask.
He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I figured another year or so. Just until I got the app up and running.” He takes my left hand in his and looks down at the ring. “I wanted to get you a real ring.”
My chest feels a little tight. “So you didn’t intend to get me a fake ring.”
He shakes his head. “I’m sorry I can’t afford it yet. But one day.” He looks up at me, his expression so earnest it melts the rest of the ice around my heart.
I swallow hard, trying to piece my feelings together and understand where this puts us.
“I’m so sorry,” he says before I can gather my thoughts completely.
“I was having too much fun and said dumb stuff I shouldn’t have.
I love you, Claire Bear.” He tilts his head at me.
“You’ve always believed in me. Don’t stop now.
” He tugs my hand and pulls me close to him, pressing his lips on mine.
His lips are warm and familiar, and I can tell he’s trying to apologize and reassure me as best as he can.
And I do feel better. He had my back when it came to the party, and he WAS planning on proposing…someday.
So why do I still feel this nagging disappointment, a twisting in my stomach?