Chapter 37 – Claire
THIRTY-SEVEN
CLAIRE
Lainey drops me off after girls' night, screaming that I'd better get it good, which means when I open the front door, I'm still laughing.
My brow furrows when I realize it's not locked, something that Miles is diligent about. My nerves ratchet high when I walk into the house, though. In the kitchen, I can see Miles, head in his hands, elbows on the granite of the counter.
"Miles?" I ask, my voice coming out in a worried whisper, but he doesn't move, doesn't shift to acknowledge my entering the house at all. "Miles, honey?"
I step closer, dropping my bag at the front and barely closing the door as I rush toward him. But then I stop in my tracks, startled when I see the hole in the wall that’s the size of a softball. I look around, worried someone is hurt, until I see one of Miles's hands wrapped in a bag of frozen peas.
"What happened here?" I say out loud, finally stepping into the kitchen and tipping my head to the hole.
"I punched a wall," he says matter-of-factly as if that's not an alarming thing.
I roll my lips between my teeth and nod.
"I see that, but can I ask why are we cosplaying as a frat boy right now?"
He doesn't answer, instead giving me a fake smile.
"You had a long day. Why don't you go take a shower and get in your pajamas? I'll be up in a little bit."
Fuck that.
"Mmm, no, I think not. What's going on here? What happened?"
He sighs, then shakes his head. "Nothing, baby. Go take your shower and get comfy. I've got a few more things to do. When I'm done down here, I'll come up and talk to you."
That's when I notice there are a dozen papers spread around him. From a quick glance, I see they're bills, mortgage documents, and agreements of some kind.
"Miles, there's a hole in the wall. The chances of me going upstairs and pretending it's not there are slim to none."
He looks at me, then sighs, closing his eyes, and I see it there: how tired he is. Not the physical kind, but the bone-deep emotional exhaustion. He's drained because something big happened.
"Let me see your hand," I say softly, stepping closer to him. I move the peas aside and see that, despite a small cut on a knuckle, nothing looks too swollen or damaged.
There's a bit of a bruise on a different knuckle, but I've seen worse when he hits a finger at work. I lean down, press my lips right above the cut, and he lets out a small chuckle before I sit next to him.
It takes everything in me not to look at the papers because even though I'm nosy, I know he'll tell me what I need to know when he wants me to know it.
"You gonna tell me what's going on?"
He leans back with a sigh, closing his eyes.
"I—" he starts, and then he leans forward again and looks me in the eyes. "Do you promise not to freak out, no matter what I say?"
My head tips to the side, and my heart skips a nervous beat. "Uh, no?" I tell him honestly.
"Claire—"
"If you're about to tell me you kissed another girl…"
His smile goes wide despite his grim mood, and he shakes his head, an arm moving around my waist and tugging me out of my chair and into his lap. Having him hold me like this, some of my fears drift away.
"You think I could even look at another woman when I have you waiting for me when I get home every night?"
I smile a bit at that, my hand moving to the back of his head and tangling in his hair before I lift the other to cup his cheek, brushing my thumb along his mustache.
"You better not," I whisper. He smiles again, and I feel it against my hand, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Tell me what's going on."
"Are you going to stay calm if I do?"
My stomach turns again, but I smile all the same, trying to lighten the mood.
"Me? Anything but calm, cool, and collected?"
He rolls his eyes and then tightens his hold on me like he's afraid I'm going to run when he speaks. "Paul came by," he says, and my entire body goes tight.
"What? When?"
"About an hour ago."
"Why?"
He closes his eyes, takes in a deep breath, and I know—I know I'm not going to like what he has to say.
"Brad told him we're dating and convinced him to sell his stake in the house." My mouth drops. "I have to talk to my lawyers tomorrow, see what they say, but…I know Brad isn't going to be as flexible as Paul was. He came by to rub it in my face." My heart drops to my feet. "I think I have a plan, but?—"
"You have to go be fucking kidding me," I whisper.
"It's fine, Claire. We'll figure it out."
I shake my head, though he's right. We will figure it out. First by finding out where the fuck the asshole is.
"Where is he now?" I ask.
"What?"
"Where is he now? Where is he staying?"
Miles shrugs, looking at me skeptically. "I don't know. I think he's at Surf right now; that's what he said at least, I?—"
Before he can say anything more, I'm moving, pushing back from Miles and standing. I move to the door, slipping on my flip-flops again before I move.
"Claire," Miles calls, but I'm not listening. I'm out the door, not worrying if it closes behind me because even though he's going to try and stop me, I know Miles is going to follow me and will close it himself.
I start walking faster and look over my shoulder when I'm a few feet from the house to see if he's following me yet. He's probably getting shoes on, but once he's good, he's going to catch up quick. I start going as fast as my flip-flops allow me without eating shit and get to the entrance of Surf quickly.
"Where is he?" I say, looking at Deck, who is luckily on shift as a bouncer today.
"What—"
"Brad. Where is he?" Deck looks from me to Miles, who is moving through the throng of people to get to me, to probably stop me from whatever rampage I'm about to go on.
Deck smiles then, like even though he doesn't know why, he knows I'm about to go wild and can't wait to witness the aftermath.
He tips his head toward a door in the corner of the dimly lit bar. "Office."
I don't wait for him to say anything else, instead moving quickly toward the room he pointed to again on a mission.
"Claire!" Miles yells from behind me, but I don't slow down, instead making it to the door quickly and opening it, stepping inside where my ex and Brad are sitting, smiling, across from one another at a desk, a bottle of champagne between them.
The door doesn't slam behind me the way I hope it would because that would be a dramatic entrance, but it's because Miles is on my heels and follows me in, closing the door with a quiet click and closing out the loud noise of the nightclub.
"Claire—" Paul says, an onslaught of emotions rushing over his face before it is pulled behind his mask. He's seen me full-blown angry twice now: once when I told him I was leaving if he didn't get his shit together and right now.
But this is a different kind of anger, one filled with injustice and betrayal and hurt.
I'm not mad or disappointed; I'm furious.
"Are you fucking kidding me, Paul?" I yell.
My ex's eyes widen, and his jaw sets firmly, but he doesn't speak.
"Claire, good to see you," Brad says, and I roll my eyes.
"Shut up, Brad. It's shitty to see you, as always. More so when you're being an even bigger asshole than normal." I turn back to my ex. "You sold your stake in your family home because, what? You found out I was dating Miles?"
"You were always into him," he says, sounding like a child who lost his favorite toy.
"Oh, get over yourself. If you knew I was into him, then why did you go after me that night? You were so fucking diligent about being together that whole summer, so caring, always hanging out with June and Lainey. Then when we started dating, you never wanted to come here again." I move closer to him, poking him in the chest. "Why go after me?"
He looks at me, then behind me, confusing me, but when I follow his gaze, I realize it being on Miles is the answer to my question.
Then, I see the truth I'd been slowly coming to over the past month or two. The painful understanding that I was just a pawn and another thing to use against Miles because Paul is a spoiled brat who needs the attention. That all this time, I'd been used as just another way to hurt his brother, and I was too stupid to even see it.
I don't know if I'll ever get over the fact that I was used as a way to get at Miles, if I'm being honest.
I, of course, knew this after Miles and I talked, but seeing the confirmation of it written so clearly over Paul's face, his utter lack of empathy for other people breaks something in me. Miles sees it, always so attuned to me, and he moves, putting a comforting hand on my back.
But he doesn't stop me.
"No fucking way," I whisper. "You have got to be kidding me."
"Oh, I'm sure he's told you all about us feuding our whole life. He always got whatever he wanted. For once I wanted to have what he wanted instead."
"You're fucking out of your mind. I'm a person, Paul! Not some toy!"
"And you were obsessed with him! Even when we were together!"
I shake my head because it's not worth arguing.
"You had me, Paul. You had me. I followed you across the country, left my family, was willing to pay for everything, but all you wanted to do was party and be some big star. But you didn't want to work, and you surely didn't want us to work. So when I said hey, I need you to pull your weight and, I don't know, remember I exist as more than some cash cow, you said no. So I left."
"Right to my brother," he says, pouting.
"No. Not right to your brother, you dumb fuck. Home. To my family. Then I came here for the summer to be with my best friend. I needed a place to stay, and I was lucky enough that Miles was willing to rent a room to me. Yes, eventually, we realized there was something between us, but that was long after you and I were done. But you're such a spoiled brat you think everything is about you."
I turn to Brad, the fucking ringleader of it all.
"And you."
"Look, I get it. Family troubles, but—" he starts, but I cut him off.
"You're so caught up in trying to win that you can't even be happy with what you got." I fling a hand out at the bar. "You have this whole place. A successful business. An entire empire you'll inherit, and there are dozens of people willing to sell to you, but you stood on wanting his. Why?"
"Why?" he asks, like he's confused as to why I would be confused.
"Yes, why were you so vehement about getting that location."
All his good ol’ boy facade drops, and for the second time tonight, it throws me back.
"Because no one turns me down the way you did."
My jaw drops with that. "Excuse me?"
"You were a tease, all summer coming over to me and flirting."
"Oh, so you're fucking insane," I say, eyes wide.
His jaw goes tight. "You were flirting with me when I needed lifeguards, and you came to my bar that first night, flirted with me, and then left with him . Then I get you on a date, and he carts you off again. I cannot stand for that kind of disrespect."
I shake my head in disbelief. "So you're doing this because of me ?" I ask, understanding sinking in.
"Claire—" Miles starts, but I shake my head.
"No, you're doing this because I'm dating him, too? You needed to best him by throwing your money around? You two are unbelievable," I say it with a laugh. "You couldn't beat Miles at anything, you loser. That's why you're doing this. Because you're so butt hurt that you suck at everything."
Brad puffs out his chest as if that will prove something.
"I disagree."
"With what? That you're a loser?" I ask, and Miles snorts out a laugh behind me.
"No, that he is better than me at everything. Clearly, I got the property, and now we get to battle about who is better at acquiring and keeping real estate."
"So you agree that you're a loser?" I ask. "That's good to?—"
Miles pinches my side, and when I look at him, he's smiling wide.
"You really think you're better than me?" Miles asks, a smile pulling at his lips. He might also be insane because why does he look so…happy?
"Well, of course," Brad says.
"Prove it."
“What?"
"Prove it, Brad. You said money is nothing to you, right?"
Brad's chest puffs out somehow further, and I roll my eyes so hard it makes my head hurt.
"Yeah. That's why you're screwed. I can spend years in court fighting for you to sell to me now that I own a chunk of that property."
Years that Miles could never afford.
"So prove it. You're a big man; beat me."
"I'm not fighting you, Miles," Brad says unsurprisingly.
"Because you'd lose," I say under my breath, and again, Miles's fingers tighten on my side.
"Claire," he says low.
"What? He would."
Miles stifles another laugh before speaking again. "Not a fight. A competition."
"A competition?"
"Your beach olympics? You make a team. I'll make a team."
"And what? We compete for your house?"
"Miles," I say, my voice a whisper as I understand where he's going with this.
"I've got this,” he says just as low, looking down at me.
"You win at the beach games, and we settle the ownership the next week, no questions asked. I win; the place is mine, free and clear."
He looks at Miles, assessing, like he's trying to figure out his angle. I too try to figure it out and can't quite put my finger on it. What is he doing ?
"Or are you scared?" he goads him.
Brad scoffs. "That a bunch of idiot locals will win? Not likely."
"Perfect. Then it's a deal." Miles puts a hand out, and Brad stares at it like he might catch cooties before finally reaching out and shaking it.
"It's a deal."
"I'll send over a contract tomorrow morning," Miles says.
Brad lifts an eyebrow like he's surprised. "You're really going to do this?"
Miles shrugs. "It's that or lose my family house, right? You're not going to play nice, so I might as well go down swinging."
My heart sinks like a stone.
"I hope you're happy," I say, looking at my ex and really, I mean it. I hope he's happy with his choices. He might not have been the one for me, and he might be making the most insane choices, but he's still someone I once cared about.
"I don't," Miles says, then grabs my hand and drags me out of the office as I fight a laugh.
"You're insane, you know that?" I say under my breath when we step out into the cool summer night air. Miles pulls me in right to his side, and I melt just a bit as I look up at him.
"Learned it from the best," he says with a smile, and I roll my eyes. I'm so confused that he's not freaking out, because if we're being honest, I'm freaking out a bit.
"Miles—"
"Don't worry, Claire. We've got this," he says when we reach the house. I look up at him, and he pulls me in close, pressing his lips to mine. "It's just a house. You taught me that. With the amount I have into it and how much it's worth, I'd make more than enough to buy another one in town if I had to sell."
"But it won't be—" I start, and he shakes his head, moving to unlock the door.
"It doesn't matter, none of this shit matters. Not when I have you."
I pause and turn to him. He smiles at me wide, my heart a melted mess at my feet.
"If we win, great, if not?" He pulls me in close. "If not, I got you out of it all."
I smile, but I shake my head.
"Oh, we're going to win," I say.
He gives me a soft smile. "Claire, I don't want you to get your hopes up."
"I'm not. I'm just confident in my abilities."
He looks at me, then sighs and rolls his eyes, pulling me inside. Once inside, I roll my shoulders back and grab my phone.
"Okay. Then we need to get a plan in place."