Chapter 15
CLAIRE
One morning in April, while I waited for my coffee, I saw the news that Lucas had taken over.
It was only a short announcement. Control of the group’s day-to-day operations, the overseas projects, and the succession to the chairmanship had all been handed to Lucas.
He was already overseas, carrying out his new role.
Ethan retained his shares and continued in a local advisory role with a limited scope.
I scrolled down a little, checking that there was nothing more, then scrolled back up. The coffee machine had stopped, but the last few drops were still falling into the cup. I took it away and forgot to add milk.
I knew Ethan wanted that position.
In the past, if I woke at night and saw the study light on, I would go in and tell him to come to bed.
Hearing my footsteps, he would always say he was almost done before I spoke.
Once, his father sent a message approving of something he’d done.
He handed me the phone, trying to seem casual, but after I’d read it, he asked again what I thought.
I didn’t think of the nights I’d been left lying in bed alone. I thought first of his face that time, of the way he’d taken the phone back and looked down at it again.
I picked up my own phone and found his name.
Before I could type anything, Evelyn called.
She asked how Nora was, then said, “I expect you’ve seen it.”
“Just now.”
“He really has stayed. He’s given up the position too. He wasn’t just saying it.”
I stood at the edge of the kitchen, my palm against the warm cup. Her voice was a little hoarse, as though she’d already been through an argument with someone else.
“Richard is very disappointed. Ethan’s had a hard few days too. He doesn’t say a word at dinner.” She paused. “Claire, at least let him know he hasn’t done all this for nothing. Promise him you’ll come back. You can take your time.”
I opened my mouth, almost saying I would talk to him.
It would have been so easy. She could stop worrying for a while, Ethan could get a good night’s sleep, and all I had to do was promise a future that still sounded far away.
I set my cup on the counter.
“I’ll ask how he’s doing,” I said. “But I can’t promise to come back.”
“After he’s gone this far.”
“I know how hard it is.”
“You know that, and you’re still leaving him there waiting alone?”
I closed my eyes briefly, my fingertips digging into the edge of the counter. I wanted to tell her I hadn’t asked Ethan to do this. But saying it felt as though I would also have to take back my wish to ask how he was doing.
“I can’t give him that promise now,” I said. “I can’t agree to marry him again because you’re all hurting.”
She was silent for a moment. “I don’t understand what else you want.”
The call ended badly. I stood there for a long time before realizing my coffee had gone cold. On the way to the library, stopped at a red light, I saw Ethan’s name again and finally sent a message.
“Before I pick up Nora on Sunday, could we talk alone for a little while?”
His reply came quickly. “Yes.”
On Sunday afternoon, I arrived twenty minutes early. Nora was playing in the nearby park with a caregiver she knew. When Ethan came downstairs to open the door, he was still wearing a shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
I stepped into the house I’d once lived in, my footsteps growing quieter without my meaning to. He asked what I wanted to drink, and I said water. As he took out a glass, I saw his mug in the cupboard. I turned to the window and waited for him to bring the water over.
We sat on opposite sides of the small kitchen table.
“I know how much it meant to you,” I said.
He’d still been adjusting his chair. At my words, his hand stopped.
“I saw the news.”
“Mm. Lucas is already there.”
I held my glass without asking whether everything had gone smoothly. He didn’t explain the arrangements further either, just looked down at the grain of the table for a while.
“How are you doing?” I asked.
He looked up. I waited for the quick “I’m fine” I used to hear after work.
“It hurts,” he said. “This morning I still wanted to call about something. I’d found the number before I remembered it wasn’t my responsibility anymore.”
My throat tightened. “What about your dad?”
“At dinner yesterday, he asked how things were going where Lucas is. I answered first.” One corner of his mouth pulled up. “Then I realized he was waiting to hear it from Lucas.”
I wanted to touch him. My hand had already moved a little away from the glass before it stopped. Evelyn’s words crowded in, making every gesture feel as though it carried an answer I hadn’t worked out yet.
“Your mother called me,” I said.
His expression changed. “What did she say?”
“She wanted me to promise to come back. Said you shouldn’t have done all this for nothing.”
“I didn’t ask her to?—”
“I know.” I looked at him. “But I want to ask you myself. Are you waiting for me to come back because of this too?”
He rested his hands on the edge of the table, his knuckles slowly tensing.
“Of course I hope you’ll still want to choose me,” he said. “There hasn’t been a day these past few months when I haven’t wanted that. When you asked to talk alone, my first thought, looking at your message, was that maybe you wanted to see me again.”
I lowered my eyes. He quickly went on. “And I do want to stay near you. It would be a lie to say I’m only thinking about my own life and not about what might happen with us.”
The kitchen was quiet. I heard someone close a car door outside. He paused before continuing.
“But this is already decided. I’m glad you came today. If you can’t agree to anything else today, I’m still staying. You don’t need to come back to prove I made the right decision.”
I looked at his hands. He hadn’t reached toward me, but his fingertips had been pointing my way the whole time, very close to my glass.
“I can’t yet,” I said.
He nodded, the small light in his eyes dimming. I saw it, and it hurt to let it happen, but I didn’t change my answer.
“What were you going to do today?” I asked.
He looked puzzled.
“After Nora leaves with me.”
“No plans. Maybe go for a walk.”
“Have you been sleeping well?”
“Not very. I still wake up early.” He paused. “Then I don’t know what to get up that early for.”
I looked down and smiled, though my chest ached. “You used to set an alarm even on Sundays.”
“I still do. I’m not used to switching it off yet.”
“Then start by setting it half an hour later tomorrow.”
“Will you check?”
“No. I have an early shift tomorrow. I don’t have time to supervise someone who doesn’t need to get up so early.”
He finally laughed, his shoulders easing. I moved my hand over and laid it lightly on the back of his. His hand stayed very still beneath my palm. Only his thumb moved a little; he didn’t turn his hand over to hold mine.
I left it there for a while before letting go. He glanced down and asked whether my early shifts were busy now.
We talked about the trees blooming outside the library and my colleague’s sneezing. He told me about a walk along the shore that had filled his shoes with sand. I teased him for wearing the wrong shoes, and we were still talking when Nora returned from the park. Neither of us hurried to the door.
“You can tell me,” I said. “If you’re having a particularly hard day.”
His gaze rested on my face. “Okay.”
He said it softly. I nodded too, then went to remind Nora to bring her things.
In May, Nora turned nine. Ethan brought the things he’d promised for her party. She checked them against her list, then ran off clutching a paper crown we weren’t supposed to have seen.
That month, I still went to work, led the book group, and saw Mia on weekends. His mother didn’t contact me again, and Ethan didn’t ask again for a response to his decision.
A week after Nora’s birthday, Ethan messaged as my early shift ended.
“Your travel writer has passed three cafés without stopping. Does she ever eat?”
“Eventually. Keep going.”
“Coffee with me when you finish? I want to see you.”
Nora was at Mia’s that evening. I said I could meet him at three, for a little while, then went back to the staff bathroom to put on lipstick.
He stood so quickly when I arrived that he caught his knee on the table. The travelogue lay beside his cup, a receipt marking his place.
“I was hoping you’d say yes.”
“I gathered that.”
He laughed and moved his coat to make room for my bag. Over coffee, we argued about whether the traveler should have stayed on the boat.
“I’ve been trying to ask you here since page forty,” he said.
“You only texted half an hour ago.”
“I kept trying to think of something clever.”
“And what did you come up with?”
“I want to see you.”
I held his gaze over my cup. “That part worked.”
Under the table, I nudged his shoe. He left his foot beside mine. At four, my cup was empty, but I took it back to the counter with his and ordered another round.
The next Saturday, I sent him a photograph of mysteries labeled “Bedtime Reading.” He suggested “Nobody Sleeps Until Dawn,” then complained about a book that introduced the killer’s twin at the last minute.
I stood by the stall laughing at my phone, with nothing to arrange and no reason to contact him except wanting to.
One evening in June, after a late shift, I came out of the library with a faint strip of light still along the horizon.
Nora was staying with Ethan as arranged. I had nothing to coordinate, but after two streetlights I called him anyway.
“Nora’s in the bath,” he said when he answered. “Shall I call her over when she’s out?”
“No need. I called for you.”
There was half a second’s pause at the other end.
“I’m here.”
I told him about a reader who’d requested “Getting into the Ground” instead of “Getting into Gardening.” My colleague thought it quite accurate. Ethan laughed, and I pulled my scarf down to feel the night air on my face.
We were still talking when I reached my car. I set my bag on the passenger seat but left the door open, listening to him put down a glass.
“What is it?” he asked when I didn’t say goodbye.
“Nothing.” I paused and tried again. “I just wanted to hear you talk for a little while.”
He drew a soft breath at the other end. My face grew warm, but I didn’t explain it away by saying I was tired from work.
“I’m really glad you called,” he said.
“Did you go out today?”
“A little advisory work this morning. Picked up Nora this afternoon. In between, I bought a pair of shoes meant for walking.”
“Finally.”
“You sound as though you’ve been waiting years.”
I laughed and leaned back in the seat. He told me about something small that had happened at the shoe store. Halfway through, I suddenly wanted very much to see his face as he spoke.
Only when I heard Nora come out looking for her pajamas did I say I needed to drive home. After putting down the phone, I sat in the car for a while, still smiling.
At home, a theater flyer fell from my library book. The comedy we’d both loved was coming back. I opened the showtimes, picturing Ethan beside me, laughing first at the same familiar moment. Then I began looking for somewhere we could eat afterward.