Chapter Nine Choosing Myself
Claire stood near the back gate, away from the polished perfection of it all. Her fingers absently played with the edge of her dress, the lace a distraction she barely registered. Her thoughts were a thousand miles away—back in a dorm room, back in a kiss, back in a moment she couldn't take back.
And then—
"Babe," a voice called out, equal parts sass and sincerity. "You look like you're about to pull a Julia Roberts and sprint off in heels. Should I be cueing 'Runaway Bride' or...?"
Claire turned, already smiling before she even saw him.
Leo stood there with one hand on his hip and the other delicately flicking a cigarette from behind his ear. His linen suit was tailored within an inch of its life, lavender socks peeking from his ankles. Always a little extra. Always exactly what she needed.
"God, look at you," he said, sauntering closer, giving her the once-over like she was the final round on Drag Race. "You're giving me tragic heroine at a spring wedding, and I'm weirdly obsessed."
Claire rolled her eyes, grateful for him even as her heart remained heavy. "You're dramatic."
He grinned, holding out his lighter. "And you're not?"
She took the cigarette without a word, let him light it for her, and drew in a breath. The smoke was sharp, grounding. She held it for a moment before exhaling slowly, her eyes on the horizon.
"Shouldn't you be inside playing groomsman of the year?"
Leo leaned against the fence, kicking one foot over the other like this was just another lazy Sunday.
"Mmm, maybe. But I saw you standing out here like a sad little French film and figured I'd check in. Also, someone needed to make sure your eyeliner didn't smudge from, you know, soul-crushing regret."
Claire gave a breathy laugh, the sound bitter around the edges. "You're such a bitch."
He smiled sweetly. "And yet, you adore me."
They stood in silence for a beat, passing the cigarette between them. She could feel his gaze on her even when she didn't look.
"You okay?" he asked, softer this time.
Claire hesitated.
Then:
"I should be."
"Mm. That's not a yes."
She glanced at him, smoke curling past her lips. "Everyone thinks today is the perfect moment. For closure. For a confession. Like I'm supposed to have this big movie moment where I yell I love you and he realizes he never wanted to marry her in the first place."
Leo blinked, wide-eyed. "Wait—do you have a boombox? Because I did bring a backup speaker if we're going full John Cusack."
Claire chuckled, flicking ash to the ground. "No. No boombox. No speech. Just... reality."
She paused. Her voice was calm, but something trembled beneath it.
"I moved on, Leo. Or at least, I'm trying to. If it was going to happen between us, it would've already. And Mandy... she doesn't deserve to be caught in the middle of something unfinished, but meanwhile so finished without even starting."
Leo's expression softened, mascara-dark lashes blinking thoughtfully. "Wow. Look at you. Choosing peace like a damn grown-up. It's beautiful. Disgusting. I kind of hate it."
Claire smiled weakly. "It sucks."
"It does," he agreed. "But also... you're kind of a badass for doing it."
She handed him the cigarette. "I just want to protect her heart."
Leo took a long drag, then exhaled like a queen banishing bad vibes. "And what about you? Who's protecting yours?"
Claire didn't answer. She didn't need to.
Leo watched her for a moment, then flicked the cigarette away with a perfectly dramatic sigh.
"Okay, honesty hour: I've seen him look at you. He stares at you like you're gravity and he's sick of floating. And I've seen you look at him like you're waiting for the world to end just so you can finally tell the truth."
Claire shook her head, her jaw tightening. "He always pulls away. Always hesitates. And I can't wait for him anymore."
Leo studied her, unusually quiet. When he finally spoke, his voice was a murmur. "So what now?"
"I stay for the ceremony," Claire said, firm. "Then I leave."
Leo raised a single, sculpted brow. "Dramatic exit after the vows? I'm into it. You'll need a cape."
Claire gave him a look. "I'm serious, Leo. No hints. No 'accidental' tips. Don't say a word to him."
Leo held up his hands. "Honey, please. I may be a gossip, but I'm not a traitor. Your secret's safe in these fabulous hands."
He took her hand then, squeezed it gently, and gave her the softest smile she'd seen all day.
"But just... promise me you're not doing this hoping he'll come running after you."
Claire hesitated. Her silence said everything.
He nodded, no judgment in his expression—just understanding. "You deserve someone who doesn't hesitate."
"I know," she whispered.
"You sure you're gonna be okay?"
Claire took one last look at the garden, the aisle, the altar at the end. Then she straightened.
"I'm not just gonna be okay. I'm gonna write a bestseller and move to New York. Eventually."
Leo gasped, clutching his chest. "God, take me with you. I can be your chaotic gay assistant with a bad attitude and great taste."
"You already are."
He beamed. "Say less."
Then, with his arm dramatically looped through hers, Leo guided her back.
"Come on, heartbreak. Let's have one more drink before we go watch a love story that's not ours."
And together, they walked back to the hotel—toward the illusion of happily ever after. But Claire's steps were steady. Her choice was made.
And this time, she was walking forward. Not back.