CHAPTER 25 #2
Claire shook her head. All these years, what she’d believed was incorrect. She’d blamed her dad for so much, harbored such bitterness, and maybe even subconsciously went after men who would hurt and mistreat her because of her messed-up way of seeking to reinforce her belief that men were bad.
“What now?” she asked.
“Now, you call Sylvia and tell her you’re attending her wedding. She’s one of your best friends. Besides, she told me there’s a handsome young man there who has been pining for you for months.”
“I don’t know if I can—”
“You not only can but you will. Your father will take care of me.” She smiled brightly, a smile Claire hadn’t seen on her face in a very long time. “He wants to spend time with me.”
“And you want me out of your hair.”
Nora waved a hand. “Not necessarily. But what I do want is for the two of you to talk.” She saw Claire’s expression and quickly added, “When you’re ready.”
“I’m not ready.”
“We understand. You need some time to process all of this.”
Claire raised her brows. “We? Now it’s we?”
“He was the love of my life, Claire.” Her mother’s eyes brimmed with tears. “And I’m beginning to believe that I was his.”
·
Ian
Ian reached for the bar of Irish Spring, glaring darkly at yet another mess he’d made on the glass shower door.
This was pathetic. Not since he was a teenager and a virgin had he had to do that with this level of frequency.
Women had always been numerous and willing, and he had taken full advantage, beginning with that first time in his father’s hangar when Ian was fifteen and he took Adam’s sloppy seconds. Only she wasn’t sloppy in the least.
Elin Johanssen. He soaped his chest, remembering that eye-opening summer.
She’d been a redhead too, he realized, with perky tits, an infectious laugh, and boundless energy.
Not much older than him but with loads of experience already, Elin had taught him a lot, and he’d been quite the enthusiastic student.
Shaking his head with a rueful smile, he grabbed the hand shower and quickly rinsed off, then aimed the stream to hit the glass, catching a glimpse of his reflection before turning away in disgust. He no longer recognized himself, this sullen creature, unable to move on, stuck in this rut of pining for Claire and wondering what could have been, if only …
Yeah, if only.
Well, fuck.
He toweled off briskly and stepped out of the stall, his nipples pebbling and gooseflesh rising as the frigid air crept over him like a sheet of ice. He groped for the terry robe and shoved his arms into the sleeves, reaching for his shaver.
He flipped it on, the buzz filling his ears as he quickly got rid of his two-day stubble. He shaved only for work these days, and today’s flight would be a long one with Adam in the right seat. That put a little smirk on Ian’s face. Adam hadn’t flown as FO in years. Let the trash talk begin.
He raised his chin to shave his jaw. Jonathan’s wedding was four days away.
Sylvia, Jon’s fiancée, had invited Claire, but Jon had informed Ian that she’d declined.
A part of him still hoped that she would show, which only proved how pathetic he’d become.
He’d lived for FaceTime conversations, which had been few and far between.
The last one had been when she’d eaten a banana while he choked on his soup, a painful ramrod in his pants, knowing what she could do to him with that talented little mouth.
He’d envied a goddamned piece of fruit. When he’d hung up, he’d headed straight for the shower.
Devon had tried to hook him up several times, even surprising him one poker night by bringing along the blonde twins he was fucking.
But those handsy babes only served to irritate Ian, and he had left early, claiming the need to attend a Zoom conference.
He made short work of donning his uniform, smiling as he surveyed himself in the mirror, sporting brand-new captain’s bars.
At least part of his life was going well.
He’d never been so fulfilled at work; he’d taken to being an airline transport pilot like a duck to water.
He wished he’d done this from the start without the attorney detour, but it was what it was.
He’d gained useful knowledge, had no regrets, and he sure as hell wasn’t about to tell Adam how right he’d been.
The guy’s head was already swollen enough, especially since he’d found Eve to worship the ground he walked on and stroke his already obnoxiously inflated ego.
Ian shoved his phone and charger into his flight bag, grabbed his Rollaboard, and, with one last critical look at himself, headed out, making a mental note to eat a little better. He’d lost weight.