Chapter 25
Ryan
It’s been an exhausting day. Even with Aaron and Pam, we barely finish moving all of Claire’s items into her new place by seven in the evening.
She hasn’t unpacked anything except for some bedding so she can sleep, but she’ll have a lot more work to do tomorrow.
At least we got all her furniture and boxes moved from one place to the other.
In unison, Aaron, Pam and I plop down onto Claire’s couch, exhausted but satisfied.
Claire looks at us all sitting on her couch and grins. “I’m going to get food for us all. That’s the least I can do. Is pizza okay?”
“Absolutely,” I say as Aaron says, “Yes, ma’am,” and Pam nods eagerly.
“Any particular toppings?”
I shake my head, not wanting to be picky. Aaron asks for meat lovers, and Pam asks for veggie. Claire’s happy to oblige and leaves the living room to call in the order.
“Thanks, man,” I say to Aaron. “And Pam, thank you too. You both didn’t have to stay all day.”
“Nah, it’s fine,” Aaron says. “Like I said, pick-up truck tax.”
“Besides, I wanted to meet the infamous Claire,” Pam says. She peers over her shoulder to see if Claire is walking back, then adds, “She’s pretty cool. I like her. I can see why you’re in love with her.”
“Hey, hey, let’s watch it on the L-word,” I say, waving my hand down.
“But I’m not wrong, am I?” Pam asks, a glint in her eyes.
Claire returns, saving me from having to answer. But I don’t think I need to. Pam knows I’m madly in love with Claire, and it’s still a surprise that Claire doesn’t.
Claire sits cross-legged on the rug we just unrolled an hour ago and looks up at the three of us. “I wish I could do more for you guys than just pizza. You saved me today. I’m so grateful.”
Aaron and Pam say it’s no big deal, and Claire looks over at me. I just smile at her.
“I’m glad I was here to help,” I say. “I can’t imagine what you would’ve done if you’d been alone.”
Claire pauses, contemplating the possibility, then grins. “I probably would’ve called you.”
My chest warms at her words. She knows she can rely on me, that I’ll be here for her when Zach isn’t. Hopefully that helps her realize she doesn’t need Zach in the first place. That I should be the one she relies on primarily. That I’m not the second option, but the first.
Aaron clears his throat. “So how long until the pizza arrives?”
Claire turns to him. “They said about thirty minutes. But I know it’s late. I should’ve ordered it sooner. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to keep apologizing,” I say. “It’s really okay.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry.”
Aaron, Pam, and I laugh, and it takes Claire a minute to register her words before she laughs, too.
“Do you apologize a lot?” Pam asks.
Claire shrugs. “If I feel like I’m putting someone out, yes. But usually I try to just…not need help.”
“But that’s not normal,” Aaron says. “That’s, like, the human experience. We all rely on each other.”
“It’s a common thing for women to apologize a lot,” Pam says. “I just read an article about it.”
“Really?” Claire asks. “What did it say?”
“That a lot of us are people pleasers, and we feel bad for doing anything that bucks the norm. I guess it stems back to the idea of us being the submissive housewives from the fifties, and that idea hasn’t left our society.” Pam looks at Claire pointedly. “Do you feel that way?”
“I…” Claire blinks a few times, then looks over at me. Our eyes lock, and I try to say with my eyes, Yes! You’re too worried about what everyone else thinks! Take the last step and realize that this is why you’re staying with Zach.
She looks back at Pam and furrows her brow.
“Yeah, maybe. I don’t know.” Her voice breaks a little, and she stands abruptly and brushes off her jeans.
She pastes on a grin that doesn’t reach her eyes, and her voice is artificially chipper as she says, “I’m gonna go start unpacking my clothes in the bedroom.
” And like a scared cat, she bolts from the living room.
Pam looks over at me with wide eyes. “Yikes. Looks like she’s got some soul-searching to do.”
“Yep.” I press my lips together in a grimace.
“You weren’t lying about Zach, either,” Aaron adds. “I mean, you’re probably exaggerating a little, but I can’t believe he left her to move on her own.”
“Yep,” I repeat. But I feel slightly guilty sitting on Claire’s couch and talking trash about her boyfriend—ugh, fiancé—and about how she needs to work on her people-pleasing tendencies, so I stand. “I’m gonna go help Claire.”
Pam sits forward. “Should I come?”
I put a hand up to stop her. “No, you relax. You guys have done so much already.”
She sits back, settling into Aaron’s arm, and I head down the hallway to Claire’s bedroom. The second bedroom sits completely empty, ready for Zach’s nonsense stuff. The apartment itself is pretty nice, but it’s FAR. Far from work, far from my place, far from the beach.
I find Claire sitting on her bed, not touching any of the bags of clothes that are strewn around her room. She’s looking down at her fingers, fiddling with them like she does when she’s thinking or nervous.
“Hey.” I sit down next to her, trying not to think too hard about the fact that I’m sitting on Claire’s bed.
Her BED. This is where she sleeps, lets her guard down, imagines her future.
The most vulnerable spot in her apartment.
This is a bridge we haven’t yet crossed, and I fear there’s no turning back.
Our lives have mostly been intertwined at work, but today, here, we’ve shared the personal side of her, and it feels like another step toward the connection I’ve craved for years.
“Hey.” She looks over at me and puts on a fake smile. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought you might need a friend,” I say.
Her smile fades. “I think I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.”
“No kidding. And you’re not the one who had to carry a kitchen table down one staircase and up another.”
“I’m sorry about that.” She shakes her head. “Wait, no. Not sorry? Even though I feel guilty.”
“I think that’s the problem,” I say. “You feel guilty because you think I’m upset with you. I’m not. I’m happy to help. More happiness in giving and all that.”
“Yeah. I guess you’re right.”
“So thank you for giving me the happiness that comes from giving.” I nudge her shoulder.
She gives a light laugh. “I’m so exhausted.”
“We can leave,” I say, even though that’s the absolute last thing I want to do right now. Her arm is pressed against mine, our legs are touching, and all I want to do is stay here with her. But if she’s tired, I don’t want to overstay my welcome.
“No,” she says quickly. “I want you to stay.”
Our eyes lock, and I feel like there’s more to be said right here, right now. She doesn’t say anything, and I don’t either as I wait for her to make her own realizations and conclusions.
A knock sounds on the door. Claire raises her brows. “Pizza time!” She gets up and heads to the door.
I sigh, feeling like I’m SO CLOSE to getting through to her. But I follow her back to the living room.
We eat our pizza on paper plates provided by the pizza place, and then Aaron and Pam promptly fall asleep on the couch. Claire doesn’t seem bothered at all, so I figure I’ll let them get in a nap before driving back home. Plus I get to spend a little extra time with Claire.
“Did you see the balcony?” she asks me.
“Balcony?” I shake my head. “No, I didn’t.”
She gestures for me to follow her, and we walk into the second bedroom, the one that’s completely empty. There’s a set of French doors, and Claire opens them to reveal a small balcony.
“Why isn’t this your bedroom?” I ask.
“Zach said he wanted the balcony for his office. So he’d get a break from his work every now and then.”
“Hmm.” Selfish jerk. Of course, I don’t say that out loud.
“But it’s mine for now,” she says. She points to one wall back inside the room. “I want to put a desk there. I can work on my book and have these doors open so I can have fresh air.”
“I think that’s a great idea.”
“Yeah. At least I have it until Zach takes over.” Claire leans her elbows on the railing, looking out at the parking lot.
There’s nothing spectacular to look at…except for Claire.
The air is in that transition from winter to spring, the faint reminder that warm nights are coming.
The wind blows her auburn hair away from her face, and the moon lights her features.
I have to stop myself from telling her how beautiful she is.
“Sometimes…” She pauses, as if calculating her words. “Sometimes I wonder why I’m still with him.”
Oh.
Oh.
She looks over at me, meaning laced in her expression.
Is she waiting for me? Does she want me to tell her she shouldn’t be with him?
That everything about their relationship is surface-level, but what we could have would be deep and meaningful?
That I’d NEVER abandon her to move on her own—scratch that. I’d never abandon her, period?
The words are right there on the tip of my tongue—the words I’ve imagined saying to her for years now. Pick me. You and I are meant to be together.
But Chase told me to play it cool. I don’t want to seem desperate, and I don’t want to put pressure on her to choose me. So I can’t say those words, even if it feels like Claire wants me to say them to her.
Besides, it feels like too much. I don’t want to convince Claire to be with me.
She needs to see her own worth. It’s not that she should go from one bad option to a better option.
She needs to choose herself. And if she’s just waiting for me to make that decision for her, then I don’t know if she understands the depth of this issue at all.
So instead, I straighten and tap the railing of the balcony. “Let’s go inside,” I say, and her expression falls. She looks like she’s about to say something, then changes her mind and nods, walking inside.
I’ve disappointed her. But even though I want to fight for her and show her what she’s missing out on, I’m not going to put myself out there right here, right now.
She needs to figure this out for herself.