42. Clark
Chapter forty-two
Clark
“ U se the second from the left lane to turn left.”
The GPS voice grates on my last nerve. My attempt to switch lanes at the last minute earns me a loud honk from the frustrated driver behind me.
Navigating this city traffic has me ready to give up driving forever. But I’m determined to make it to Clara’s office if it’s the last thing I do. I found the address for WritInc and drove straight here after dropping off Chase at Pops’ place this morning.
No doubt, Pops has already filled the whole town in on where I ran off to today. But if their positive vibes can help my cause with Clara, then I don’t even care who knows.
I park in the lot and step out of my truck, met with a blast of cold air. “Should have stopped to buy a coat,” I mutter under my breath as I jog to the building.
Once inside, I take the elevator to the third floor. Inhaling deeply, I open the glass door labeled WritInc and step into the lobby. There’s a woman behind a desk at the front. I’m not sure if she’s an official receptionist or not, but she appears to be the first line of defense to the office.
“Excuse me?” I say, clearing my throat. She gives a cursory glance up from her computer screen. Once she looks at me fully, she sits up straighter with a smile.
“Can I help you?” she asks, smile widening.
I rub my beard, uncomfortable with her perusal. “Um, I’m here to see Clara Sullivan.”
“I’m sorry, Clara’s not in the office right now,” she says, not sounding very sorry at all. “Is there anything that I could help you with?”
“Uh, no, unless you could tell me where I can find Clara.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t give out other employees’ information,” she replies. “But I could—”
“Clark?” I’m saved from the receptionist’s next statement by the disbelieving voice of Madison speaking my name.
I look up to see her glaring at me, rage spewing from eyes. Yeah, I deserve that.
“Madison, can I talk to you?” I ask. She continues glaring. “Please? It’s important.”
She gives an eye roll that involves her entire head, but gestures for me to follow her to an empty conference room.
“Well? What could be sooo important from the jerk who broke my best friend’s heart?” she spits. Guess I’m officially back on Madison’s bad side.
I attempt to disarm her with honesty. “You mean the jerk who knows he messed up and desperately wants to apologize? Who is here to beg to put your best friend’s heart back together? That’s what's so important.”
Madison’s face softens. “You swear you’re here to fix things and not make them worse? Because I don’t know if you’ve caught on to this or not, but my Clara is a sensitive soul. And one more rejection from you might crush her spirit beyond recognition.”
“I love her, Madison. I’m here to tell her that. I just have to find her,” I answer truthfully. She nods her head in approval.
“In that case, I’ll tell you exactly where to find her. Don’t let me down, McScrooge.”
“I—what?”
“Not important. What’s important is that you hightail it over to Crown Center and look for Clara by the giant Christmas tree.”
The drive from Overland Park to Crown Center in Kansas City, Missouri, is maddening. I’m tempted to sit on a bench for an hour by myself to regulate my blood pressure. But I’m more determined to find Clara and tell her how I feel before it’s too late.
If it’s not already too late.
The Christmas festival in Noel was uncomfortably crowded for me—but nothing could have prepared me for the sheer number of people packed into Crown Center. Young families taking their kids to visit Santa, an overflowing ice-skating rink, couples posing for photos in front of the Christmas trees. Even though there are still traces of daylight, the lights are turned on, filling the space with sparkle. It’s easy to see why Clara expects Christmas cheer everywhere she goes if this is what she grew up around.
I walk slowly through the area, looking everywhere for her beautiful face. Not finding her right away, I brave the ice skating crowds to see if she’s watching the kids out on the ice. No dice.
Panic sets in. Panic that she’s not here any longer, that she left and I’m back to square one. I still have her father’s number, but I’d much rather declare my love directly to Clara instead of having to explain to another person why I’m here.
Just when my hope is dimming, I spot the familiar shine of strawberry-blond curls. My breath catches in my chest as I watch her profile—sitting on a bench near the large Christmas tree, staring up at its lights.
There’s a sadness cast over her features that I know I’m responsible for. A sadness that I’m determined to chase away for the rest of my life, if she’ll let me.
I make my way toward Clara, my long stride quickly eating up the space between us. As I approach her bench, I call out her name.
She turns at the sound of my voice, eyes going wide when she sees me. “Clark?”
Clara stands abruptly, turning to face me but crossing her arms over her chest. “What are you doing here?”
“I have to talk to you, Clara.”
“But how did you find me here?” she cuts in.
“I went to your office, but when you weren’t there, Madison told me where to find you,” I admit.
“Madison told you?” Clara sounds skeptical, confused. I nod. She must know that her bouncer of a best friend wouldn’t have led me near her without good reason. I see her body relax the slightest bit, but her arms stay tightly wrapped around herself. “What do you have to say?”
“I want to tell you that I’m sorry for how I acted that night at the festival. The night you kissed me. It probably felt like I was rejecting you by not kissing you back—”
Her incredulous laugh cuts me off. “Gee, wonder why it would have felt that way?”
“But I wasn’t not kissing you for the reason you thought I was,” I cut back in. She’s blinking quickly, trying but failing to fend off tears. I take a step forward and brush a stray curl off her forehead. “I didn’t kiss you back, not because I didn’t want to kiss you. I didn’t kiss you back because I did want to kiss you.”
Clara purses her lips and shakes her head. “That makes no sense, Clark.”
I rub my beard and sigh. “I know. I’m trying to explain, but it’s hard for me to explain . . . feelings.” Her eyes soften enough to give me strength to continue trying.
“Clara, I thought that I was wrong for you. That if you were with me, you’d wind up miserable because of the type of man I am. I . . . I don’t like needing other people. Quite frankly, I was determined not to need anyone, ever. But you get such joy out of helping other people, out of being needed, that I thought you’d slowly suffocate in a relationship with me. That my lack of depending on you would suck all the air out of your lungs.”
“Clark, that would never—” She tries to interrupt, but I hold up a hand.
“Hold on, let me finish. That’s the reason I told myself that I was pushing you away. But then I started to realize that it wasn’t the true reason. It wasn’t about protecting you from me. At least, not only about that.”
I take a fortifying breath before admitting my next thought. “I realized that the way I wanted you felt a lot like needing you. Needing your spunky energy challenging my stubborn streak. Needing your smile making my heart catch. Needing your laugh brightening the air around me. Needing your kindness taming my grumpy side. Needing your concern for other people pulling me out of myself. Needing your eyes staring into mine every morning. Needing everything about you in my life, every day.”
My words have grown shaky, and Clara’s eyes have filled with tears. I reach forward and take her hand, the one that has been furiously spinning the ring on her pointer finger.
“Clara, I love you. I’m sorry that I wasn’t ready to admit that when you tried. But now, I’m ready to admit that I need you, that I want Clark-and-Clara, all that we could be together. If that’s still what you want.”
She hiccups a sob. For a split second, the terror that I might have irrevocably screwed up my chance with her crashes into me.
Then Clara reaches her free hand up to my cheek, running her fingers down my bearded jaw.
“I love you, too, Clark. I still want us. I think I always will,” she whispers.
I waste no time pulling her against me, leaning my head down to capture her lips. The sensation of her mouth against mine is as intoxicating as it was the first time she kissed me, but this time I give myself over to the rush. My hand reaches to cup behind her head, threading my fingers through her soft curls and angling her mouth against mine.
The moms who brought their kids out to visit Santa today are getting more of a scene than they bargained for, but I don’t care. The string around my heart is humming in victory.
I never want to snap out of whatever spell Clara has me under. All I want is to stand here forever, kissing her lips with all the reverence and passion and tenderness and intensity that she deserves.
However, I do want to be respectful of how Clara feels about this PDA, so I break off our kiss to search her eyes.
“Nu-uh,” she hums before pulling my neck back down to her. I gladly surrender, unable to stop a light groan from escaping my throat as I wind my arms around her waist, pulling her tighter against me. Locking her into my embrace like I’ll never let her go—which is fully what I intend. Clara’s arms loop around my neck, pressing even closer to me. The dam has burst, and every ounce of love for her that’s built up inside me over the past year pours into this kiss.
The warmth of Clara’s lips against mine—add that to the list of things that I need .