6. Bobby
6
Bobby
Chaos and Choices
I’m sitting in the corner of the patio, surrounded by trees and a gentle breeze as Tom's voice drones on in my ear from the phone pressed against my ear.
My ear listens to him whine about increased paperwork in my absence. My eyes fixate on trucks unloading mountains of party equipment in the distance, but my mind is on the brown folder I’m holding in my hands.
Claire thrust it at me this morning, her face flush as she directed, “This is the contract. I hope you decide to stay after reading it."
She hurried off before I could ask any questions. I thought we weren’t going this route. It seems absolutely ludicrous.
I look through the notes, my eyes dancing over the legalese outlined on the pages. There are stipulations about spending time together, "approved" activities, even a clause requiring us to consult each other before accepting any outside invitations.
I ruffle my hair and slide my hand down my face. The whole thing is over the top and unnecessary. There aren’t any problems so why create a contract?
The real question is what do I do when I feel the urge to kiss her? Or when I want to grab her in my arms and whisper sweet nothings in her ears? When I feel the urge to look deep into her eyes and tell her she makes my heart skip a beat?
The contract doesn’t touch any of that. It’s useless. I return the paper to the folder and tuck it on the side of the chair.
All these years, I told myself I just had a soft spot for Claire because she’s a free spirit, someone with fierce intellect, and a smile that could light up even the darkest corners of a room. We’ve always been comfortable around each other, and now I feel like I’m walking around a minefield whenever she’s within reach.
What a fool. A wry chuckle escapes my lips.
“Bob?” Tom’s voice echoes in my ear. "What's funny about the patient almost dying?"
I sigh. I’ve completely forgotten that he’s still on the phone.
“Sorry, man. I wasn’t really listening.”
“That much is obvious,” Tom says dryly. “Is it your Dad?”
"It's Claire," I admit, the name catching in my throat. “I think I need to get outta here, man. I'm starting to have these….uncomfortable feelings around her."
"Well, bud," Tom lets out a low whistle. “I always said you both got a lot more going on than friendship.”
"I know, man," I groan, running a hand through my hair. “I feel like it was a mistake agreeing to play her fake boyfriend. I just didn’t think too much of it at first, you know."
"Maybe…maybe not," Tom chuckles.
“What do you mean?”
"Look, bro. You got two choices. Come clean to her and deal with this, or you get your butt outta there and really attempt to find a woman you can seriously be with. And that means you have to let Claire go. It’s always has been hard for you to date with Claire lurking on the sidelines. And same for her with you lurking on the sidelines. You guys can’t do this dance forever.”
I tap my feet nervously, trying to maintain the frustration bubbling inside. “I can’t deal with this now, Tom.”
“Then get out before things get messier, bro.”
He’s right. I need to get out of here, clean, without emotional entanglement. That’s the only way I can stay friends with Claire.
“I’m supposed to leave tomorrow.”
"Good call." Tom’s relief is evident in his voice. “Going home to your Dad after that?"
I pause for a beat. That doesn’t sound like an option right now, and I can’t go back to TenderCare because of the deal Tom made. There’s too much I need to figure out. It’s all starting to blur.
"I’ll let you know."
The dial tone buzzes in my ear. I stare down at the contract. It ends tonight before things get even more complicated. No more battling mixed signals.
I lean into the chair, watching the commotion outside as crews set up. Claire appears in the distance. She’s wearing a simple black, satin dress that hugs her curves in all the right places, with a slit going up one side stopping mid-thigh. Her hair is twisted up in a stylish mess of a bun, exposing her neck — just the way I like it.
For a fleeting moment, I wrestle with the idea of running up to her and pulling her close, feeling the warmth of her skin against mine again, and gently kissing that exposed neck.
The image leaves me hot and flustered.
"Here you are," Claire greets, her voice bright and cheery. “Why are you out here on your own?"
“Was just thinking.”
Claire's smile falters as she reads my mood. Her gaze falls on the contract next to me.
"Did you have a chance to look it over?” She asks timidly.
I nod, my throat suddenly tight. “Yeah. I did."
"And?"
"Claire," I hesitate, slightly choking on my words. "I don't think we’ll get the chance to implement this."
"What do you mean?" A tinge of panic crosses her features.
"The contract," I explain. "I don’t think we’ll get to practice it."
A suffocating silence stretches between us. I look at Claire, but her face is an unreadable mask.
"So… you're leaving?"
"Yes," I confirm, a knot twisting in my stomach. “Your cards are active again. Everyone believes we’re in love. I think it’s safe for me to leave now, right?"
“Safe for who?”
I stare at her, swallowing the lump in my throat.
“But we had a deal, Bobby. I have a lot more riding on this than my credit cards.” Her eyes cloud with unshed tears as she continues, “The property, the long game…”
There's so much I want to say, but apologies won’t be enough, and I can’t confess these recent feelings right this second. How do I tell her that the memory of the kiss, the way her lips felt against mine is burned deep into my soul, and how I feel an irresistible yearning in my chest whenever I'm around her.
"Claire, I'm sorry."
The words fall flat. She lets out a heavy breath and nods. I feel so bad seeing her shoulders slump in defeat, knowing I made that happen.
"It's alright," she nods again, her voice trembling slightly.
She stands up and wanders down the path towards the pre-party flurry. My stomach churns with regret.
She’ll get over it, Bob. Claire’s strong and she’ll survive here on her own. You’re saving your friendship.
As much as I want to believe that, it doesn’t lessen the pang of guilt inside me.
***
A massive white pergola draped in lush greenery graces the entry of the party hall, casting dappled shadows on the gleaming white tiles.
The dance floor gleams, a beacon of revelry in the meticulously arranged sea of small, round tables. Gold vases set with pastel flowers adorn the tables, and flickering candles cast a warm shimmer over the room.
I move around grand hall. Everything seems to be set and the place is ready for the party.
Mike walks up to me. He’s my partner in seeing that everything is in place in the hall.
"Lover's spat, huh?"
I look at him as he pops a grape into his mouth.
"What?" I shoot him a bewildered look.
The curious glint in his eyes deepens.
He gestures vaguely towards the hallway where Claire is standing, speaking to a woman dressed in a chef’s garb.
"Half the estate is going on about your fight."
Oh no. Heat creeps up my neck, but Mike claps me on the shoulder.
"Hey, it happens," his voice is low and reassuring. “And I know my sister can be exhausting at times."
I open my mouth but Mike cuts me off.
"Just don't break up with her, alright?" he pleads, a hint of desperation in his voice. “No one with a half-decent brain cell has ever fallen for her, and now that we have you, we're not letting go that easily."
I attempt to smile. “Actually, Mike, I'm leaving after the party."
His jaw drops, the playful swagger draining from his face. “No way," he exclaims, almost too loudly. Several heads turn in our direction. Mike grabs my hand and we walk to a corner. His voice drops low, but the urgency remains.
"Bob, you guys didn’t break up, did you?"
“We didn’t.”
“Okay, good.” He leans in conspiratorially. “I gotta tell you, I've never seen Claire this…this happy, this different. She needs you, bud."
I rub a hand across my face, feeling completely and utterly screwed. No one here can truly understand the precariousness of my position. They all believe I’m truly Claire’s boyfriend. They can't begin to fathom I'm walking the tightrope between genuine affection and upholding this charade.
"Alright, everyone!" Gramps' jovial voice cuts through the chatter. "Time to get changed! The party's starting in an hour. And a big thank you to all of you for your hard work! This place looks fantastic!"
A wave of clapping washes over the room and then people start moving.
Mike claps me on the shoulder again. “Think about what I said, Bob."
I nod numbly, my mind spinning. As I turn to leave, I catch a glimpse of Fiona in the distance, her head tilted conspiratorially with three other ladies as she gestures toward Claire. They all suddenly gaggle in laughter.
Without conscious thought, I walk towards the group quickly. I round the corner, catching snippets of Fiona's words.
"Heard Bob’s leaving," she glees. "Let's see how long Claire lasts here all alone. Probably pack her bags and run back to New York with her tail between her legs in a week just like the other times."
My blood runs cold. Fiona's waiting for me to leave to continue her manipulative games. I step into the room and they all gasp, their conversation grinding to a halt.
My fists tighten beside me as I stare at them in the uncomfortable silence.
Fiona recovers first, a smirk twisting her lips. “Well, well," she drawls. “Here to confirm you’re leaving?"
"You need to watch what you believe, Fiona," I warn coldly.
“What?”
"I'm not going anywhere," I add, my voice rising.
Fiona's smirk falters. "Oh, really? News travels fast here, Bob. Everyone knows you guys fought earlier."
"I’m not sure how you and your so-called fiancée operate, but healthy couples do," I agree, my voice steady. "And then they make up, that's all. We straightened things out already, but I’m sure news of that didn’t spread quickly, did it? You seem to indulge in the drama around here."
Disdain crosses Fiona's face. She opens her mouth to retort, but I cut her off.
"And for the record, I’d appreciate it if you treated Claire with some respect." I look around. “That goes for you all, too.”
With that said, I turn around and walk out. Claire needs me here, so I’m not going anywhere. A part of my brain tells me that I’m staying for a lot more than just because “she needs me,” but I brush that under the rug for now. I can’t leave her hanging with her witch of a cousin.
It’s time to go get ready for the party and I plan to make every single woman in there jealous of Claire.