Chapter 35 – Claire
THIRTY-FIVE
CLAIRE
We're walking along the sand an hour later, looking for shells when Miles is fiddling in his pocket, and I look at him confused. His face turns red as he bends quickly, grabbing something he dropped out of the sand.
"What was that?" I ask.
"What was what?" he says, but he's blushing, so I know it wasn't in my head.
"What did you drop?"
"My wallet," he replies much too quickly.
I stare at him, and if I didn't know better, I'd let it go. Fortunately for me, I do know better.
The blush on his cheeks, the panic on his face…he's hiding something.
And I want to know what it is.
"Miles Miller, what are you hiding?" I say with a smile, stepping closer to him.
"Nothing, let's keep walking?—"
I shift my body, my hand going into his pocket before he can stop me to find what he dropped.
"Claire, I?—"
I still when my fingers brush it. Three, actually. Gently, I wrap my fingers around the familiar forms and pull them out. He sighs like some grand secret is about to be revealed, and when I open my hand, I see why.
In my hand are three small shells.
Perfect, gorgeous shells.
"Miles…" He doesn't respond as I stare at them and then up at him. "Why do you have these in your pocket?"
A hand goes behind his neck, holding himself there, and the blush creeps down his neck now. "Because I drop them sometimes."
"You…" Slowly, it comes to me.
The beach walks.
My shell collection.
You're my lucky shell finder , I told him. I always find the best ones when we're together .
"Do you drop these for me?"
He lets out a sigh, then runs a hand over his hair.
"That first time you found one when Grant and I took a walk with you two, you were so excited." I remember the shell, a dark blue-grey scallop shell the size of my palm that was perfectly intact. I look up at him, asking without saying it, and he shakes his head. "That one wasn't me. But you were so excited by it, how perfect it was. You said you wanted to find a sand dollar one day, and I knew the chances of finding a perfect one on the beach were slim. So I…” He pauses then sighs. "So I bought a small one at a gift shop."
"No way," I whisper, my jaw dropping and my eyes widening as the pieces fall together.
"You came down a few weeks later to see June, and we all went to the beach together. I slipped it in my pocket. It was dumb, but…"
I jump in with the rest of the story and what I know of it.
"I was looking for shells that night. You said I shouldn't walk on the beach alone."
"I stand by that," he says, and I roll my eyes but otherwise move right past his protective streak to the point of the story.
"You dropped it?"
He nods.
"And you were so happy. You being happy made me happy, even then, so I made it a habit of mine. Popped a couple of them in my pocket every time I thought I might see you on the beach."
"How long were you going to let this go on?" I ask in awe.
"As long as I could," he says with a laugh. "Think it kind of loses the magic if you know about it."
I stand there, looking at him, my eyes wide, my entire understanding of Miles and my relationship once again turned on its side.
"Oh my god, you're so in love with me," I whisper with a smile. "And you have been. For like, ever."
I mean it jokingly for the most part, but his face takes on a serious note as he steps closer, grabbing the shells from my hand and pocketing them once more before pulling me in close, his hand going to my chin.
"I really am." He rests his forehead on mine. "I'm so fucking in love with you, Claire; it's made me crazy for six years."
"Miles," I whisper, my throat tightening with stupid emotions, and he smiles as a tear slides down. His eyes soften as he swipes it away with his thumb.
"My sweet, soft girl," he whispers.
"You know I love you too, right?"
"Yeah, Claire. I do," he whispers against my lips. "But it's still good to hear you say it."
"I love you," I say, wanting to give him anything and everything he wants. "I love you, I love you, I love you. I have since I was nineteen, you know."
He smiles softly. "And I've loved you since you were nineteen and already driving me up a wall."
I let out a small laugh and a sniffle, a hand on either side of his face as I pull him down to kiss me. "Yeah, I guess you were kind of a creep, weren't you?"
He pinches my side, and I let out a laugh, trying to pull away, but he tugs me into him once more.
"I love you, and I always have. I hate the tourists, but the season brought you every summer, so I used to count down the months, waiting for you to come," he says, a whisper I can barely hear over the ocean. "But I don't want to wait for the summer anymore." My heart pounds, and he tucks hair away from my face. “So what do you think—any chance I can convince you to stay in this little tourist trap of a town with me?"
I stare at him for long moments as his words sink in. As my mind finally understands what I couldn't see for some time.
"This town isn't a tourist trap, Miles," I say with a shake of my head. He gives me a disbelieving look. "This town isn't a tourist trap, you are."
He looks at me confused, but I smile wider at him.
"You're a tourist trap, Miles Miller."
"What?"
I step closer to him, and he puts an arm around my waist, pulling me in close.
"You lure in unsuspecting tourists and make them want to stay forever."
"Is it working? Are you stuck here?"
"I'll stay for as long as you'll have me."
* * *
We make love that night. It's not the first time, and I hope to God it's not the last, but it's that: making love.
After, Miles sets up the fire pit and shows me the makings of s’mores he bought without my knowing. I sit on his lap in comfortable silence, eating my marshmallow and enjoying a perfect summer night.
Below us, people are still milling about, chatting and laughing on the boards, and families are out on the beach eating dinner or having dessert.
Sitting here, looking out, I'm hit with the overwhelming sense of home. It's a feeling I've never felt anywhere else, one I felt glimmers of over the last few summers, the most beautiful glimpses, but I only felt it wash over me the day I stepped into this house.
June told me Grant is confused as to why Miles won't just agree to sell the house, make a boatload on the sale, and buy something smaller, more low-key, and off the boardwalk, but I get it. There's something about this house that is so special that I want to keep it forever.
So finally, here on the deck, exhausted from one of the most fun and fulfilling days I can remember, after Miles and I finally confessed our feelings after dancing around it for months—years, if we're being honest—I decide to jump in.
"Hey, Miles?"
"Yeah, baby," he murmurs, hands brushing through my hair as a gentle breeze rolls over us. It's a cooler night, and the sound of people laughing mixed with the waves crashing against the shore and the crackling fire settles my soul. I realize, in this moment, I want nothing more in this world than to keep this.
Not just Miles, but this house. This place where he was raised, this place his grandfather built, this place where I fell in love with him.
I bite my lip, knowing he's not going to like what I have to say next, but knowing I have to all the same.
"I'm going to say something, and you're not going to like it, but before you go off the handle and react, I need you to listen to me. Listen to what I'm really saying instead of how you're feeling." I feel like a therapist talking to him like this, but here we are.
"Okay…" he says. "Should I be nervous?"
"No. But you know I love you, right?"
"Uh, yeah?"
"And you love me?" It might be a bit soon from the grand declaration of love to pull this card, but if I'm being honest, it's been sitting with me for weeks, and I haven't found the right opening to give him my offer and this is as good as I’m going to get.
"Yeah? Claire, where are you going with this?"
"And you know I love this place. Seaside Point, our friends, the Seabreeze…this house." His body goes tense with my last word, and I keep speaking, not wanting to pause and get lost in my thoughts. "I told you to listen before you react, Miles."
"Claire…"
I move, shifting so I'm facing him, my knees now on either side of him. I'm in one of his too-big shirts and a pair of boy-short panties, so the playing field might not be super even, but I'm willing to work my womanly wiles to get my way.
"If something happens—if you need to buy the house sooner than you planned and don't have all of the money, I want you to let me help out."
He closes his eyes and sighs, any hint of distraction from my being in his lap gone.
"Claire—" I cut him off with a soft kiss before holding his face in my hands and forcing him to look at me.
"I don't want to lose this. For you, yeah, I guess, but selfishly, for me too. I love it here. I love that I fell in love with you here, and I broke you out of your shell here—" He opens one eye and glares at me, and I give him a wide smile. "I love that your mom was raised here and that you were raised here. I want to convince Nate to let us watch Sophie for a week on summer break, and I secretly want her to fall in love with Jonah one day. I love lying on your chest and listening to the waves in bed, and I'm going to love watching the snow fall on the shore in the winter."
"Claire—"
"I don't want to lose this. I have the money. I've been saving for years. Call it…call it an investment in my future," I whisper.
He looks at me, brow furrowed, before his face clears, going soft. His hands move up, ghosting along my back before he tugs me back down to his chest.
"An investment in your future?" he asks into my hair, and somehow, I know he needs this, this barrier where I can't read his face.
I let him have it while explaining.
"Our future. I want to raise our kids here, Miles." I smile at the mere thought of kids with Miles' eyes and my hair. "I just…I have the money. It's just sitting there, and I can't stomach the idea of losing this place just because you were too stubborn to accept help."
I can feel him readying to argue, but I shake my head, on a roll now.
"You don't get it. I spent my entire life waiting for something to feel right, for someone, and somewhere to feel right. I found it here. Let me help you protect it."
"Claire—"
Finally, I sit up and put a finger to his mouth.
"Please, don't say no, Miles. Please. If you want to make some kind of plan to pay me back, whatever, I'll spend it on dumb shit anyway. Just…think about it. Give it a good thought, not just your impulse of no."
"Claire," he starts, and I open my mouth to argue, but he shakes his head. "No. Now it's my turn. Now you're going to listen to me ."
"Okay," I whisper, eyes wide and definitely not turned on by bossy Miles.
He smiles, knowing I absolutely am.
"Okay," he says, and it takes a moment for me to realize he's agreeing, not just repeating me. "Okay. If we are at a point where time is running out and I don't have the money, I'll let you kick in. But that's you kicking into our life, okay? That means you're stuck here, stuck with me."
I smile then, wide and full, my heart soaring.
"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."