Chapter Fifteen
Claire woke up on a wave of determination on Saturday morning.
The next time she had a quiet moment with Nick, she would suggest they try being friends with benefits.
However, before that, she had a few other tasks she’d been putting off for a while. It was time to tackle them.
The first item on her agenda today was donating Arthur’s clothes to charity.
She’d been looking to the universe for some sort of sign that it was okay to let Arthur go, that the timing was perfect for her to start her new life.
Unfortunately, as she knew all too well, the universe didn’t always provide those signals, and if she waited for the perfect timing, she’d be waiting forever.
Besides, she didn’t want her memories to intrude on her time with Nick.
Nick.
Just hearing his name on the job site caused a reaction in her. Every time someone called out to him, her ears pricked up. She’d gone from blushing around him to practically drooling.
When he wasn’t around, she missed him. On days when he couldn’t linger after work, she yearned for his touch. In sleeping with him, she’d hoped to get him out of her system, but he’d only implanted himself under her skin like a microchip.
That microchip had been pinging nonstop.
She’d tried to tell herself it was just about sex, but she was starting to wonder if she’d miscalculated somewhere along the way. If their only connection was sex, then why did she long to see his smile? If it was only about the physical attraction, then why did she love talking to him so much?
There was a chance that her emotions had become engaged somehow.
One thing was clear. She wouldn’t be able to sort out her feelings for Nick unless she let Arthur go.
She needed to make a new start. Today was as good a day as any.
“I can do this.”
She showered and dressed, throwing her hair up into a ponytail.
After grabbing a few garbage bags from her utility drawer, she headed back upstairs.
Without giving herself any time to dwell on memories, she removed all Arthur’s shirts from the closet and placed them in one of the bags.
Although the temptation to hold them to her nose and breathe in deeply was strong, she resisted.
After all, she’d tried holding on to his scent for a long time, but it had faded ages ago.
They were just garments now, no longer a part of him. They would find a new life, helping someone in need.
She tied off the bag with a double knot. Before she could change her mind, she brought the bag downstairs and outside, packing it in the trunk of her car.
“There,” she said, heading back into the house. “One bag down. You’re doing a great job.”
Trembling with resolve, she went back to her bedroom.
She started a different bag, one destined for the garbage.
In this one, she placed Arthur’s underwear, socks and some half-used toiletries that she’d never quite managed to clear out of the bathroom.
Once again, she tied off the bag, brought it downstairs and put it in the garage.
She kept up her pep talks as she worked, giving voice to her thoughts to spur herself on. “Look at you. You’re a queen of organization. You should be proud of yourself.”
She should probably have taken Mia up on her offer of help years ago. Her sister had tried several times to persuade Claire to let the items go, but Claire hadn’t been ready. Mia would be proud.
Nick would be proud.
It hardly mattered. She was doing this for herself, first and foremost.
The tension headache that had plagued her the last few days reappeared, pounding on the tender flesh at her temples.
Ignoring it, at least for the time being, Claire carried on with her task. Before she knew it, she’d bundled up all of Arthur’s clothes. The only item she kept was a rugby shirt, his favorite. Folding that carefully, she placed it at the back of one of her drawers.
She would allow herself that one memento.
Her plan today was three-pronged, and she knew each step would be a bit harder than the one before. Still, she continued.
Step two involved removing some of Arthur’s photos from around the house. It wasn’t that she wanted to erase every trace of him. She just needed to let him go, and she wouldn’t be able to do that if she continued to carry on conversations with his photos.
Beginning in the living room, Claire began to remove some of the pictures. There was an empty shelf in the closet in the spare bedroom, the perfect place to store them. She kept one on the wall, the photo of them dancing at their wedding, but she relegated the others to the upstairs shelf.
“There,” she said, looking around when she was done. “Much less like a shrine now.”
Time for the third prong.
Claire went upstairs to her bedroom and sat on her side of the bed. She closed her eyes, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth like an athlete, and readied herself. She then opened her eyes. They burned with unshed tears.
Maybe she could allow herself just a few.
As the tears fell, she removed her wedding rings.
Holding them for a moment, fingering the smooth bands of gold and sparkly diamonds, she said a different sort of goodbye.
She then placed them in her bedside table, in a little jewelry store box, and shut the drawer.
Her finger looked so bare and there was a funny little indentation where the rings had been.
She sat there for a while, staring at the closed drawer, uncertain what to do next.
When the doorbell rang, at about ten-thirty in the morning, she almost didn’t notice it. But the chime roused her out of her funk, forcing energy into her limbs so she could walk downstairs.
Maybe one of the weekend volunteers had an issue at the sanctuary. Of course, they usually just called her. They didn’t tend to walk over to the farmhouse.
Wiping her eyes, Claire opened the front door.
Nick stood there, agitation making his shoulders tight. He ran a hand through his hair. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Only then did Claire realize he was in his work clothes from yesterday. That, and the fact that his face was chalky. “Did you go home last night?”
He shook his head. “I’ve been driving all night long. Most of it, anyway. I spent about half an hour at a highway rest stop at about four in the morning. Just me and the truckers.”
“Oh my God, come in.” She held open the door for him. “Sit down. I’ll get you a coffee and some toast.”
“That sounds great. Thanks.” He toed off his work boots at the entrance and walked into the living room. He sat on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees. Clenching his hands together, he stared at the floor.
Something was seriously wrong. Keeping a close eye on him from the kitchen, Claire poured him a cup of black coffee. She brought it over. “Here.”
He nodded in thanks, and took several large gulps, wincing at the heat. “It’s good.”
She went back to the kitchen and buttered the toast. After handing him the plate, she sat next to him. “Nick, what’s wrong?”
He took a few bites and swallowed. She didn’t press him. He must be hungry.
After he finished the first slice of toast, he wrapped his hands around the coffee mug again, as if trying to absorb all its heat. “I…I shouldn’t be here. I’m sorry.” He put the mug down on the side table and stood.
Claire grabbed his hand. “Don’t go. Please. Talk to me.”
He sat down again. “It’s going to sound stupid.”
“Nick. It wasn’t all that long ago that I told you my dead husband was talking to me. Believe me, nothing you have to say will sound stupid.”
“Okay.” He looked her in the eye. “Yesterday, Lacey told me she has a new job. She won’t be the director on my new show after all.
After she told me, I fucking freaked out.
Lacey taught me everything I know about the TV business.
How am I supposed to do this without her?
I’m going to fail, Claire. I’m going to have another very public failure.
I can already see the comments. HashtagNickSucks or HashtagNickFail. ”
She drew closer and rubbed his knee. Tingles shot up her arm at the contact. “You’re not going to fail. Why would you even think that?”
“I guess I haven’t exactly felt like the epitome of success lately.”
“Nick, put all that crap with Kristy behind you for a second. Look at your life. It’s a good one. You’ve run your own business.”
“With my brothers.”
“You’ve hosted a popular TV show.”
“With my brothers.”
“You even have a band.”
“With my brothers. Claire, what if people just aren’t interested in me without Michael and Eli?”
“That won’t be the case. You’re amazing at what you do. And despite what a bunch of assholes decided to say under that hashtag, there are even more people who think you’re awesome. I know, because I’m one of them.”
He cracked a smile. “I think you’re awesome too.”
“You’re going to be a success, Lacey or no Lacey.”
“Still, I was relying on her to help me with this transition. I was so eager to start a new phase of my life, and now I just want to crawl back into the old one.”
“Look, Nick. We all feel like failures here and there, and sometimes others might agree. But you know what? To hell with those people. We’re doing our best.”
He nodded. During the pause in their conversation, he glanced around the room. “Did you move the furniture around? It feels different in here.”
She let out a weak laugh. “I demolished the shrine.”
“Oh, man. You’re right. The pictures of you and Arthur…”
“They’re upstairs in a closet. I packed up all his clothes too. They’re in bags now, ready for the charity shop.” She displayed her bare ring finger. “And I took off my rings. It was time.”
He held her hand, fingering the pale strip of skin where her rings used to sit. “Are you okay?”
“I had a moment, but it’s done now.”
“Geez. You’ve had a truly shitty morning, and then I swan in, moaning about my idiotic problems. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I felt like a failure too, for waiting so long to move on. So, you see, you’re not alone.”