26. Claire
26
I arch a brow, waiting for Leif’s answer.
I hate that he looks so good. It really makes scolding him difficult. Especially with that damn backwards cap. Why? Why must he look like every woman’s wet dream?
His tanned muscles look positively glorious in the burnt gold shirt that sits tight against his biceps. Light-washed denim hugs his thighs, and black sneakers on his feet make him look so relaxed and casual. It’s a side of him that makes me want to spend mornings walking through farmers’ markets and afternoons strolling the beach. It’s a side that’s soft, playful and comforting. And absolutely not the kind of wistful shit I normally allocate brain power to.
“Well?” I probe again.
A light chuckle falls from his lips as he steps closer to me. His arms wrap around my lower back, pulling me into him. He tries to meet my eyes, but I look anywhere but at him.
“What’s wrong, Bombshell?”
“What’s wrong?” I hiss, finally meeting his ice blue eyes. “You may as well have pissed on me with that territorial display. Just what have I done to make you think you could take such liberties?”
He hums in thought, stepping us side to side.
At that moment, I notice the music playing around us, coming from the acoustic band set up under a marquee in the middle of the street.
Pretty floral displays from Heartfelt Blooms are spread throughout the festival, making cute little photo spots for families and couples to gather in front of and capture their sweet moments together. The entire scene is far too endearing.
I don’t even know why I’m here. Lex is working late tonight, but Liv told me it would be fun to come along, convincing me it would be a good opportunity to promote Parlour Tricks a little before we open.
I helped her set up the tables in front of her place earlier, but when the bakery got too busy for me to be helpful, I decided to wander around.
So many cute stores line the street, along with additional food trucks and entertainment for the night. Normally, I don’t mind spending quality time with myself. I’m great. Who wouldn’t love spending time with me?
I’ve always been a social butterfly, finding somewhere to land no matter the crowd, but walking around the festival, I felt painfully lonely.
There was too much silence that allowed thoughts of Leif to creep in. Thoughts that made me question every relationship I’ve had with men in the past. Not that I’ve had relationships. One-night stands or a few weekends in a row with the same guy just doesn’t earn that title.
With my mother constantly telling me what a disappointment men were and to never trust them with my heart, I always made sure I had one foot out the door when it came to spending time with the opposite sex.
With Leif, I almost couldn’t help myself. I was having too much fun. What was the harm in letting him stay a little longer, come around a little more often? My heart felt fine, my pussy felt absolutely ecstatic. They were practically meeting for champagne brunch every day, gloating about how good life was. But then, Leif had to go and be sweet. Caring. The way he bantered and played with me sent my heart racing, eager for more without realising I had, in fact, grown dependent on those moments.
I fear this is the dangerous territory my mother warned me about. I’m standing on a podium wondering if I should step back and retreat to the safety I know or close my eyes and leap, hoping like hell love catches me. That Leif will catch me.
“Forgive me, Claire,” Leif says softly in my ear. His head rests against mine, and I’m lost in a haze of leather and sandalwood. “I don’t mean to take liberties. Not when you’re so gracious to give them behind closed doors. But I don’t like sharing your attention.” I pull back with a gasp. How does he do it? How can he be so open with his feelings?
“What—”
“Just stay there, guys.” We’re interrupted by a cool voice beside us, and I notice we’ve come to stand behind one of the floral displays.
A mix of blush pinks, fuchsia and violet flowers create a border around where we stand. Through the opening on the other side, a guy sits on a stool in front of an easel. His hand moves in a race against time as it dances over the canvas. His eyes snap up to us, and his pencil stops.
“Can you look at each other again, please?” he instructs. “How you were before.”
My head turns to find Leif’s eyes again. His crystal blue gaze is already waiting for mine.
We don’t say anything more, his arms still banded low on my back from when he was swaying us. My palms rest against his chest, his heart drumming a steady pattern under my fingertips. His lips stretch into an easy smile as he looks down at me.
“What are you thinking?” he whispers.
“You first.”
His pause thickens in the air, halting my breath as I wait for him to answer.
“How do I keep you?”
I can feel my heart beating in my ears with his confession. My head feels heavy, my throat dry and raw as I force myself to swallow the fear that wants to take root. I lick my lips before answering.
“For how long?” I shrug. “I’ve never given anyone a chance to get this close to me. It all scares the shit out of me. How close we’ve gotten. Why should I risk more when in a few weeks, you could turn around and decide you’ve had enough of me, yet I could decide for the first time I want more with someone? How do I be okay with that? How do I brace for the inevitable fall not knowing if I’m falling for heartbreak or something else?”
Leif takes my words with care, his thumbs gently rubbing up and down against my waist.
“The same way I’ve been doing it since we met,” he says. “Like it’s completely out of your control.”
His honesty chokes me, renders me breathless. I look down to avoid his eyes. The piercing blue that I spend too much time getting lost in. Searching for the secrets they hold.
But all he’s ever given me is honesty.
I’ve been the only coward here. One foot in because I’m too greedy to give him up. One foot out because I don’t know how to give in.
I drop my head back. The lights strung across the street shine bright against the blackening sky.
“Hold your pose, guys. I’m almost done.”
I look at the sketch artist, then swallow my need to fly, and face Leif once more.
I can’t handle the way he looks at me with such patience. All the goodness I feel undeserving of. Surely another girl is out there, more worthy of this man’s devotion.
The thought alone puts a pit in my stomach. My fists bunch against his T-shirt as if they’re holding on. Refusing to give him up to another.
I loosen my grip, feeling my head turn dizzy as my body does one thing, but my mind says another. Then my heart tries to join the mix. The bitch has never had anything useful to say, but suddenly she’s standing up and demanding attention.
I shift my eyes away from Leif’s face and spot Parlour Tricks in the distance behind him.
Only some of the lights are on inside, so there’s a nice glow coming from the windows.
I had a sign made up with all the services we’ll be offering and put it in view for anyone walking by. There’s a Connors Construction sign near the front door, too.
As I look at the salon, I take in all the touches I chose to make the space the place of my dreams.
Then I think of all the ways Leif laid his mark there, too. Paint that was the perfect shade of pink. Changing the layout to give me more street exposure. Tiles that would stand the test of time. And even knowing I didn’t want tiles, he found those little pink mosaic flowers to inlay here and there. Showing me that when things don’t go my way, it doesn’t mean they’re ruined. I can still make it mine. I can still be happy. Love it, even.
Is this why I resist so hard?
Things didn’t go the way I expected, so now my brain thinks it’s ruined?
My heart thinks I can’t be happy with a new ending. A different version to what I planned for.
My skin starts to prickle with the exposure of my feelings. The admission of vulnerability. This is too much. Too heavy for me to hold right now.
“What are you scared of, Claire? Trusting your feelings? Me?”
“Okay, all done guys.” The artist steps over to us with a smile, oblivious to the tension in the air.
He holds out a sketch of Leif and me standing behind the floral frame, looking at each other with emotion I’ve never been brave enough to let go and dive into.
I put the drawing against Leif’s chest. His fingers tenderly trace over my hand before I pull away, shaking my head.
“Trusting the fall,” I say, and then I get lost in the crowd before another word can be spoken.
If Leif has shown me anything over the last few weeks, it’s letting myself fall into his arms feels a lot like coming home. Something I want to take root and hold me tight.
And as strong as I feel in life, I don’t think I’d be strong enough to survive if he were to let go.