Chapter 3
Clara
I had a plan.
That was likely my first mistake.
I always had a plan for Alexander.
I waited to see if he was busy.
If he forgot, I would remind him.
I ordered takeout and acted like it didn't matter if he cancelled dinner.
I assured myself that if I missed one of Noah's school events, there would be another.
There was always one more.
Another supper.
Another weekend.
Another birthday.
Another opportunity.
But Noah was getting older, and I was running out of excuses.
So I choose the lake cottage.
“Three months,” I informed Alexander as I stood across from his desk. “That's all I'm asking.”
He didn't look up from his laptop.
“Three months for what?”
“For us.”
That eventually drew his attention.
His eyes lifted to mine, icy and unreadable.
He looked so lovely being impossible, and I hated it.
Hair: Black. Sharp Jaw: Costly outfit. That crazy timepiece that cost more than the first house I ever lived in.
No clue whatsoever as to what was going on inside his household.
“Clara,” he continued, already sounding weary.
I folded my arms.
“Don’t you do that.
"What is it?"
“Say my name like it’s a warning.”
His mouth twitched at the corner.
Not a smile.
Almost.
“I’m not warning you.”
“You’re thinking about it.”
“I’ve got a board meeting in twenty minutes.
“Precisely.”
I went to stand next to his desk.
“You have meetings every day. Calls every night. You are tripping every week. Noah sees little of you. I don't see you much.”
His face stiffened.
“I see you every day.
“Being in the same house is not the same as being with somebody.”
Silence.
And there they were.
The truth neither of us wanted to talk about.
I lowered my voice.
“The lake house is still. No meetings. “No reporters. No long dinners with folks who want something from you.”
Do you really think I can just vanish for three months?
“I think you could take a shot.
He leaned back.
“And what do you want me to do there?”
I grinned.
“Be a dad.
His jaw was clenched.
Then I continued, “And maybe remember you're my husband too.”
That one landed.
For long seconds, neither of us talked.
Finally, Alexander shut his laptop.
“Good.”
I blinked.
“Fine?”
“Three months.”
A smile grew over my face that I could not stop.
“Really?”
“Yes.
I wanted to embrace him.
Instead I nodded as if I hadn’t been rehearsing this discussion in my thoughts for the last month.
“Good.”
He stood up.
“Don’t be so surprised.”
"I am surprised.
“I can change my mind.
My smile slipped away.
You wouldn't.
His eyes caught mine.
“Not at all.
And for a second there was a glimmer of warmth between us.
Hope
Foolish, perilous hope.
But I held fast.
The lake house was beautiful.
It was too gorgeous, to be honest.
It was the kind of place that looked like it belonged on the cover of a magazine.
Tall trees stood throughout the grounds. The lake spread out back of the home like a sheet of blue glass. There was a pier, a private beach, a massive stone fireplace and enough beds to sleep a small army.
Noah instantly fell in love with it.
“Mother!”
He ran down the dock.
“See!”
I giggled as he took the final step and nearly fell in the water.
“Hold on!”
"I know how to swim!"
“You can drown too!”
He smiled.
"Dad won't let me."
I glanced toward Alexander.
He was standing a few feet off.
Phone in the hand.
Already engaged.
I gave a forced smile.
“Of course he won’t,”
Alexander looked up.
We looked at each other for a moment.
Then his phone rang.
He replied.
And just like that, he was gone again.
I saw him approach toward the home.
Noah turned to where I was looking.
“Is Daddy at work?”
I gulped.
"Probably.”
“Here?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Because obviously three months in paradise wasn't enough to make your father want to be here.
I smiled, forced.
“Because Daddy is important.”
Noah scowled.
“You are important.”
My heart broke a little.
“Thanks.
He shrugged his shoulders.
“I know,
That was my lad.
Seven years old and smarter than most adults.
I wasn't going to let the first week be another disappointment.
I made up a timetable.
Have breakfast together.
After-lunch swimming.
7. Family supper.
Friday night movie nights.
A boat ride.
Fishing with Noah.
A picnic by the lake.
Simple things.
Normal things.
Things families did.
Alexander cancelled breakfast because of a conference call.
He cancelled the boat ride because an investor required him.
He skipped fishing since a deal was falling apart.
He missed movie night since he had to travel back to the city for several hours.
Every cancellation came with the same sentence.
“I'll make it up to you.”
By Friday, I wanted to scream every time I heard it.
Noah stopped asking when his father would come to us.
That was worse than anything.
Children are supposed to be hopeful.
Noah was learning not to do that.
One night I found him sitting by himself on the dock.
Beside him lay his fishing rod.
Then I sat down.
“Hey.
He didn't meet my eyes.
Daddy said he would come.”
“I know.
"He said we would go fishing together."
"I know.
Noah's feet kicked against the wooden dock.
“Does Daddy not like playing with us?”
My throat tightened.
“Of course he does.”
“Then why doesn't he?”
I stared at the lake.
Because I didn't know.
Because I'd spent six years asking myself the same question.
Because maybe Alexander loved us in the only way he understood.
With money.
With houses.
With security.
With everything except himself.
I put my arm around Noah.
“Your dad loves you.”
He leaned against me.
“Then why does he always leave?”
I had no answer.
And that scared me.
That night, I dressed for dinner.
Nothing fancy.
Just a simple blue dress Alexander once told me he liked.
I set the table myself.
Candles.
Steak.
Mashed potatoes.
Noah's favourite chocolate cake.
At seven, Noah sat in his chair.
At seven-ten, Alexander wasn't there.
At seven-thirty, still nothing.
At eight, his chair remained empty.
Noah looked at me.
“Can I eat the cake first?”
Despite everything, I laughed.
“Absolutely.”
He grinned.
“Best dinner ever.”
I smiled back.
Then Alexander walked in.
His expression was serious.
His phone was pressed against his ear.
He didn't even look at the table.
He listened for several seconds.
Then his eyes met mine.
“Something happened in the city.”
My heart sank.
“What?”
“I have to go.”
Noah's fork stopped halfway to his mouth.
“But Dad—”
“I'll be back.”
“When?”
Alexander hesitated.
I knew the answer before he gave it.
“I don't know.”
He walked away.
I sat perfectly still.
The front door closed.
The sound echoed through the house.
Noah looked at me.
“Mom?”
I stared at the empty chair.
For six years, I'd been trying to convince myself that Alexander needed time.
That marriage took patience.
That love could be learned.
That if I just tried hard enough, he would eventually choose us.
But sitting there in the lake house we'd rented to save our marriage, with my son's untouched dinner growing cold beside me, I finally understood.
I wasn't saving our marriage.
I was chasing a man who wasn't even running toward me.
I had spent six years trying to convince Alexander Vale to want his family.
And suddenly, I was terrified that he never would.