The Promise of Us

by Beck, Jamie

  Claire couldn’t even look at Logan, who was probably thinking her mother insane. “My phone’s been in my purse. I didn’t check it. Sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” Her mom smoothed Claire’s hair like she was eight, then leaned down to wave at Logan through the open door. “Hello again. What’ve you two been up to?”

  “I took Claire to see my apartment so she could finish her design plans.”

  Her mom’s eyes practically popped out of her head as she flattened one hand on her chest. “In New York?”

  “Yes. Had a great lunch while we were there, too.” Logan shot Claire a pointed look.

  “Oh,” her mom stuttered before flashing a weak smile at Logan. “Well, hopefully you won’t have to do that again. Have a good evening, dear.”

  Her mom shut the car door before Claire had a chance to say goodbye.

  Claire bent to wave to Logan through the passenger window before he pulled away from the curb. That little interlude probably made him realize how ridiculous he’d been to think he and Claire could ever be more than friends. Now she wouldn’t have to reject the idea, because he would.

  Instead of bursting with relief, Claire’s heart sank to her toes, which, when combined with the ache in her hip from the dank weather, made her climb to the front door hurt all the more.

  Her mother followed her inside with her arms crossed, her face a mask of concern. “I’m shocked you went with Logan into the city, especially with that earlier weather. And just last week there was another crazy down there who pushed someone onto the subway tracks. You two didn’t go on the subway, did you?”

  Claire closed her eyes. “No, Mom. Please relax. We’re fine.”

  “Thank God!” Her mom hugged her. “I don’t know what I’d do if anything else ever happened to you, honey.”

  The burden of that responsibility weighed on Claire’s shoulders like an I beam. She understood the worry of a parent. But such suffocating concern might be causing a different, if less visible, kind of harm.

  Claire eased out of the embrace.

  “Do you want to join Dad and me for dinner?”

  “I ate so much today I don’t need dinner. Logan took me to this wonderful little bistro.” A smile formed the instant she thought of their intimate corner table.

  “Mm.” Her mom wrinkled her nose. “Well, I’m glad you escaped without any trouble. Manhattan’s full of crime, crazies, and traffic.”

  “I know, Mom. I know.” She did know. She’d heard it a billion times. It’s why she’d made herself a content life here at home. Yet . . . if she hadn’t gone there today, she’d never have been inside Logan’s apartment. Or walked streets filled with people from all over the world. Or enjoyed that amazeballs dessert. Most of all, she wouldn’t have been kissed by Logan Prescott.

  A real kiss. One that had resonated throughout her entire body.

  Sensations she could reexperience if she were willing to get hurt—again—which no doubt she would. And yet his plea made her wonder if maybe . . . maybe it would be worth trying to be “fluid” and not get hung up on labels for whatever she and Logan felt for each other. Maybe a few extraordinary moments were worth whatever regrets might come later.

  “So you really won’t join Dad and me for dinner?” her mom asked, breaking Claire’s reverie.

  “Not tonight. I want to dig into Logan’s design plan while my ideas and memory are fresh.”

  Her mom patted her shoulder. “I’m so proud of how hard you work on this brave new venture, honey.” She zipped up her jacket, looking a bit like a navy-blue Michelin Man. “By the way, I’d let myself in before you showed up. I left you a slice of Grammy’s cake on the counter.”

  “Thanks.” She’d need more chocolate if she kept thinking about kissing Logan.

  “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” After a quick kiss on the cheek, her mom took off.

  Alone, finally.

  After a hot bath to ease her achy hip, Claire pulled on pajamas, grabbed the chocolate cake, and sat at the dining room table with her laptop and notebook.

  Whether or not she got out those body paints with Logan, they’d never have a lifelong love affair. But she would give him something to remember her by—a home he could return to that offered comfort and a style befitting him.

  A few hours later, after she’d narrowed down her search to a few sofa styles, chairs, and carpets, her phone rang. “Hey, Steffi. What’s up?”

  “Guess who I bumped into today?”

  At this point in Claire’s day, her brain lacked the capacity to play twenty questions. “No idea.”

  “Mrs. Brewster. We were both getting gas. When she saw me, she mentioned the pitch materials you left for her to consider.”

  “Oh.” Claire slapped her forehead. She’d had so much else on her mind she’d forgotten to follow up on that. “Was she upset about being pressured?”

  “No. She actually enjoyed looking at it without us staring at her. It gave her time to mull it over. She loved what you worked up and is planning to call you. Congrats, partner. You just got us another project. Pretty soon I’m going to feel like I’m not pulling my weight.”

  “Oh, you pull your weight. I can’t do what you do.” Another project put them one step closer to renting retail space.

  “Well, I just thought you’d like to know.” A happy sigh blew through the line. “Any luck getting unstuck on Logan’s design?”

  “Actually, yes. I visited his place today, and it cleared the cobwebs.”

  Claire envisioned Steffi’s mouth gaping then.

  “You went to the city?” Steffi finally asked, her voice high.

  “It started off rocky, but I survived.” And earned a kiss for the effort, she thought, smiling.

  “I’m speechless. Happy, but speechless. Good on Logan.”

  “Let’s not make a big deal of it.” Although it had been a big deal in more ways than one.

  “Kinda hard not to. I’ve begged you to do things with me for years, and you always say no. Obviously, Logan has a magic power I don’t possess.” The saucy sound in Steffi’s voice set off alarm bells.

  She couldn’t allow Steffi to start up rumors. “The magic power of a fat commission check. Very motivating.”

  “Mm-hmm.” Her tone suggested she knew better. “In other news, Ryan’s folks are watching Emmy on Saturday. Any interest in joining us on our night out?”

  Claire hated being a third wheel. “Would Ben come?”

  “Possibly, but maybe you’d rather I invite Logan,” she teased.

  “Stop it. He’s a friend and client.” Fresh tingles bloomed from remembering their kiss.

  “Fine. I’ll check with Benny. Can I count you in?”

  Claire shrugged. No reason to be a hermit. “Sure.”

  “Okay, Lucia’s. Seven thirty. Do you want us to pick you up?”

  “No. I’ll meet you there.” They hung up and Claire looked at the ceiling, telling herself she was not sorry about spending her Saturday night with Steffi, Ryan, and Ben instead of Logan.

  “Where were you all day?” Peyton asked Logan when he strolled in through the back entry.

  He hung his tux on the pantry door and set the box of rejects on the kitchen counter. “Ran into the city to grab these things.”

  Peyton unzipped the garment bag and fingered the black satin lapel. “Last year, Todd and I were the gala pariahs. I don’t know if I’m up to going this year.”

  “I’m never up for the gala, but if I have to go, you do, too.” He opened the refrigerator and popped the tab of a seltzer.

  “Did you know that Claire’s coming? Mom pinned her down.” Peyton yawned with a stretch, then winced, presumably because of all the bruising and trauma to her chest and underarms. “I know Mom thinks she’s helping me, but after what I did, I don’t want anyone bullying Claire into talking to me. That won’t fix what’s broken between us.”

  When he’d first returned to Sanctuary Sound, he’d wanted to force Claire to forgive Peyton for h
is sister’s sake. Now he had another motive—his own. Claire would never consider the idea of seeing him as long as she despised his sister. And frankly, Claire’s feelings about his sister bothered him.

  People could be selfish and ugly at times. Such was the human condition. You learn to roll with the punches, especially if, on the whole, those people have been good to you more often than they’ve been bad. Peyton genuinely regretted her mistake. Didn’t that count for anything?

  Claire could be surprisingly obstinate, but he sensed pent-up emotions—a yearning for adventure—bubbling beneath the surface. “I hear you, but maybe Claire needs a little push.”

  Peyton shook her head. “I can’t make demands. I hurt her.”

  “I’m not talking about demands, but maybe there’s something else you can do. A favor you can ask. Make yourself vulnerable or indebted to her in some way so she retains the power but you get to talk to her. I think, deep down, she wants to forgive and move on. She just needs a little nudge.”

  “That’s way too manipulative.”

  He set the seltzer on the counter and hung his head. “Why do people say that word like it’s a bad thing? Everyone manipulates to one degree or another. I manipulated her today to get her into the city. She went kicking and screaming, even got a little green at one point, but by the time we came home, she’d not only had a good day, but I think she’s realizing maybe she doesn’t need to limit her life so much. If I hadn’t ‘manipulated’ her, she’d still be totally stuck in her fear.”

  Peyton flattened her hands on the counter. “First of all, I can’t believe you did that. Justify it all you want, but that’s not cool.”

  “‘Justification’ . . . another word people throw around as being awful when, in truth, it’s simply the way we make choices. Can I justify spending money on this car? Can I justify taking the day off for this appointment? Can I justify getting divorced? And so on and so on. Bottom line, as long as your intentions are not entirely one-sided, manipulation and justification are not all bad.”

  Peyton frowned, hesitating before speaking. “I need more time to think about whether or not I agree. Maybe I’m just predisposed to disagree because of the justifications I told myself when I ran off with Todd.”

  “Well, that was fairly one-sided . . . clearly on the wrong side of the line.” He frowned. “Not that I believe in a life controlled by lines.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “Should I lie? If you ask me, lying is a worse sin than manipulation or justification.”

  “The point, I think, is not to sin at all, Logan.” She sat back, arms crossed. “You know, you sound more like Mom and Dad than you’d ever want to admit. On the other hand, I’m tickled that you got her out of town for the day. Steffi and I were always a little sad that she never psychologically recovered from that shooting. Just don’t hurt her, okay? Not for me. And not for whatever other justification you’re dreaming up. You don’t know her like I do. If you push too far, you’ll be sorry.”

  He knew her better than Peyton realized. “Let’s change the subject. We can dig into the rejects, or shop online for a new dress for you. You are coming to the gala.”

  “Karina is coming, I presume, so I can’t count on you as my ‘date.’”

  “Karina’s my friend, not my date.” He weighed whether to say more. “I actually asked Claire to go with me, but she said no.”

  Peyton’s eyes went as wide as he’d ever seen them. “You did not!”

  “I did.”

  Her eyes narrowed as she shoved her index finger at his chest, poking him as she spoke. “Do not toy with her, Logan. You know she always had a thing for you. If you use her feelings in some mission on my behalf, I’ll never forgive you.”

  He batted her hand away. “Jesus, Peyton. Why’s it impossible to believe I might have my own interests at heart? I like Claire.”

  “You like her,” she said flatly.

  “I like her. I’m finding myself . . . intrigued.”

  “By Claire.” Her disbelieving expression said whatever she left unsaid.

  “Yes. Claire. Petite. Freckles. Blushes easily. You know her?”

  “Stop. Claire is not your type.”

  He gave a nonchalant shrug. “In case you hadn’t noticed, my type hasn’t been very worthwhile. Maybe it’s time for a change.”

  “I won’t argue that, but don’t experiment with Claire, Logan. I mean it. She doesn’t need her heart broken by you.”

  “Why is everyone so sure she’d end up hurt? When did I become the bad guy?” He raised his arms out from his sides.

  “Who’s everyone?” Her brows furrowed. “Other people know about this?”

  “Claire. Claire knows. I kissed her today, but she shot me down because she doesn’t trust me.”

  “I . . .” Peyton’s jaw dropped so fast he couldn’t believe it didn’t bounce off the floor. “I think you just handed me a reason to reach out to Claire.”

  “To help me?” He smiled.

  “To warn her off.”

  “Hey! That’s just mean.”

  “Be serious,” she scoffed. “You’re the world’s best brother. These past six months you’ve gone above and beyond. But you’re not someone who can make Sanctuary Sound his happy home.”

  “Neither is Claire. Not the real Claire . . . the one from before the shooting. That Claire’s adventuresome. Brave. I just need to remind her of the life she loved from before.”

  “No.” Peyton’s brows drew close together. “You have to accept her as she is, not try to change her.”

  “I see who Claire really is. It’s all of you who’ve let her pigeonhole herself. I should’ve intervened years ago. But now I’m here, and I’m up to the task.”

  “Why? What do you suddenly see that you missed all these years?”

  Everything he’d never had in his life but hadn’t known was missing? “I can’t put my finger on one thing. It’s a feeling of arriving someplace new yet comforting . . . like home, or what most people feel about their home.”

  “Oh, Logan. That’s such a cliché.”

  Maybe so, but there was a reason clichés existed. He lifted his tux off the knob, refusing to be lectured about dating by his sister. “I’m going to hang this up in my room. When I get back, you let me know if we’re shopping for dresses or working on the project.”

  While he was in his room, Ryan called.

  “Hey, buddy. What’s up?”

  “I need a favor,” he replied with a hushed voice.

  “Okay. Shoot.”

  “I’ve been planning to propose to Steffi this weekend, but she didn’t know that and invited her brother and Claire to go out with us on Saturday. I don’t want to tell her and ruin the surprise. So Ben volunteered to come up with a last-minute excuse, but that leaves Claire. I’d call her, but I’m not sure I trust her not to accidentally tip Steffi off. Could you invite her to do something under the guise of the work she’s doing for you? That way, Steffi wouldn’t worry about her and I’d get my girl to myself for the night.”

  “Congrats, pal. That’s a big step.” Logan had yet to see a marriage he truly admired or envied, but maybe Ryan’s second would be the first. “I’ll be glad to run interference. Consider it done.”

  “Great, thanks. I owe you.”

  “No problem. Good luck!” Logan hung up and crossed to his window, which looked out over the Sound. The day’s cold rain had washed away most of the snow, leaving a windswept tableau of grays, blues, and browns in every direction.

  He’d been lucky to grow up in such a beautiful location with all the advantages he’d had. None of them, however, were helping him much where Claire was concerned.

  For a few minutes, he considered how to get her to cancel her plans without raising her suspicions. He wanted to take her on another adventure before cold feet and her mom froze her here in town again. He needed an idea that would appeal to her passion for design and beauty. Near enough for her to manage, but far enough to get her out of
her comfort zone.

  He dialed her number. When she answered, she sounded surprised. “Logan?”

  “That’s me.”

  “I know. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Just calling to say good night and ask a favor.”

  “Another favor?”

  He rested one hand on the window frame overhead while watching a gull fly by. “Do you trust me?”

  “I don’t think so.” She snickered.

  “I’m serious. Do you trust me?”

  She paused, which bummed him out. “I don’t understand what you’re asking.”

  “If I asked you to go someplace with me, would you come without asking questions? Would you trust me that I would keep you safe and you’d enjoy the excursion?”

  Another prolonged silence followed. He might have to tell her the truth about Ryan’s request if he couldn’t coax her into an adventure.

  “I guess so.”

  The shock of it made him break into a smile. “Awesome. I’ll pick you up Saturday at noon. Dress comfortably.”

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “You said you’d trust me. Go with the surprise. I promise you won’t be sorry.”

  “Logan . . .”

  “Hmm?” He settled his hand against the cold glass and removed it, watching his palm print slowly fade. Here and then gone, like much in life. But if he blew warm air on it, the prints would reappear . . . like a memory.

  “If I want to turn around, promise we will.”

  He closed his eyes. “I promise.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Claire readjusted the lavender-scented eye mask Logan had handed her when she’d gotten into his car an hour ago.

  “Keep it on!” He squeezed her hand, which he’d been holding for at least ten minutes, ever since she’d started twisting her fingers together and muttering about how fast she guessed he was driving.

  “How much longer?” She continued bouncing her right knee.

  “Mmm, less than twenty minutes.”

  Twenty minutes that could feel like another hour. She tugged at the bottom of the mask. “I’m so disoriented. I don’t think I like this.”

  Logan might be as fluid as water, but clearly she was as immutable as an iceberg.