In that moment, Scott firmly believed that he deserved a gold medal for not asking whether or not Brett would be there. And he deserved a blue ribbon for not asking what she was planning on wearing, and suggesting the ugliest, frumpiest dress in her wardrobe so other men wouldn’t know her shape like he did. And he deserved a round of applause for not begging her to stay on the call with him just a bit longer so he could hear her voice . . .
Oblivious to the ache in Scott’s chest, Claire turned away and shouted for the dog. “Bob! Come say goodbye to your dad! There’s a good girl,” she cooed, as Scott saw the uppermost part of the dog come back into view.
Claire hoisted Bob onto the couch beside her and pointed toward the screen, trying to get the dog to look toward Scott. She was only half successful. Bob was clearly convinced she was pointing to a rogue piece of fried chicken that needed to be eaten.
Claire lifted Bob’s paw and waved at Scott. “Say ‘Bye, Dad! See you tomorrow!’ Scott, your turn,” Claire said, glancing at the camera. “Say bye to your girl.”
He rolled his eyes but played along. “Bye to my girl.”
The second the words were out, Scott’s world tilted on its axis as the truth rolled over him.
The FaceTime window went black as Claire ended the call, off to primp for her party, off to live her life, but Scott didn’t move. Not when his computer stayed inactive for so long the screen went black. Not when his coffee turned cold, the mug still frozen in his hand.
Bye to my girl.
He hadn’t been talking to the dog. He’d been talking to Claire.
Claire was his girl. His woman. And he didn’t want to have to say bye to her. Not ever again.
Chapter Thirty
FRIDAY, OCTOBER 11
You’re sure you don’t mind?” Claire asked for the hundredth time, as she watched Bob do a third perimeter sniff of Audrey’s apartment. It was a significant time investment, as Audrey’s apartment was huge.
Claire assuaged some of her guilt, slightly, by reminding herself that Bob would like all the extra space. That she wouldn’t feel ditched, first by Scott, then by Claire.
Granted, Claire’s “ditch” had a one-week expiration date. As far as brownie points went, she was way ahead of Scott.
“I’m positive,” Audrey reassured her. “I love dogs.”
“Yeah, but, and I mean this with love, you’ve got a distinct purse dog vibe about you,” Claire said, miming the size of a tiny little lap dog.
“I like all dogs,” Audrey insisted. “I did my homework. I read a bunch of pet blogs and learned new tricks to teach her. Oh, and I didn’t show you . . .”
She teetered away on her high heels, came back holding something small and aqua.
“See!” Audrey proclaimed, unrolling it slightly. “Tiffany blue poop bags! And look . . .” She unrolled it further. “It says Pooping at Tiffany’s.”
Claire shook her head. “That is the most you thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”
“Right? I even watched a YouTube video on how to use them. You put your hand inside, and then pick up the poop, pull the bag inside out, and knot it. Voilà! Her poops aren’t that big, right?”
“Not at all,” Claire lied, because the truth might result in Claire missing her plane because Audrey had backed out of her offer to watch the dog.
“Okay, I have to ask,” Audrey said as she walked Claire to the front door. “Does Scott know?”
“Not the details, but I told him the truth. That I came across a travel deal I couldn’t resist, that I haven’t gone anywhere since Brayden died and I was overdue a vacation, and that I wouldn’t leave Bob with anyone I didn’t trust with my life.”
“Aww,” Audrey said, giving her a quick hug. “But wait, I feel like you’re avoiding the topic. Is this trip just for kicks or because you’re trying not to think about him?”
Claire winced. “You know.”
“That you’re in love with Scott?” Audrey asked sympathetically. “Yeah, honey. I think we all do. In those final days before he left, you had a frequent sex glow, but it was the other stuff at the beach house that made me realize it was more than that. The way he looked at you like you were the best gift he’d ever received. The hand brushes. The food sharing.”
“You and Clarke share food.”
“Because Clarke can barely feed himself. It’s different, and you know it.”
Claire wasn’t so sure it was different, but she wasn’t exactly in a position to be lecturing anyone about romance right now. She’d barely recovered from the reality of her crappy marriage before getting her heart broken all over again. Hence the spontaneous trip. She’d decided that this time, she wasn’t waiting an entire year to heal. She needed a shortcut to resetting her life, and a new environment seemed the way to do it.
Plus, it gave her an excuse to take a break from the FaceTime calls with Scott. They were the highlight of her entire existence, and that wouldn’t do. At this rate, she’d have to have another bonfire next year to get over Scott.
“I’m sorry,” Audrey said, her brown eyes worried. “I hate that you’re hurting. Again.”
“My fault,” Claire said with a smile. “The guy did warn me from the very beginning that he wasn’t sticking around. And Naomi warned me a million times. I should have trusted the pact, trusted you guys to pick out the heartbreakers when I couldn’t.”
“Well, actually,” Audrey admitted, “I sort of feel like I let you down. Naomi knew that Scott was one of the heartbreakers. I, on the other hand, thought he was the one. Why do you think I insisted Oliver invite him to the beach house?”
“Audrey! That was you?”
“I know! I’m sorry. But you and I had such good luck with Naomi! Remember when she was dating Dylan, and we were like, ‘Hello? Oliver?’ I thought Scott was your Oliver. I was so sure . . .” She sighed. “Naomi would be a gloating terror if she ever found out that she was the one who was right.”
“It’ll be our secret, but maybe next time don’t get so . . . involved?”
“Done,” Audrey agreed.
Claire looked at her watch. “Okay, I’ve gotta get going. Just let me say goodbye to Bob.”
Five minutes later, after an extremely emotional goodbye to the dog, Claire loaded her suitcase into the truck of a cab and climbed into the back seat. “JFK, please.”
The taxi started its slow crawl through traffic, and Claire looked down at her iPhone, double-checking her boarding pass for peace of mind.
JFK to CDG. Nonstop.
She was finally off to see the Eiffel Tower properly.
Chapter Thirty-One
SATURDAY, OCTOBER 12
It was a gray day when she arrived at her hotel, but Claire didn’t mind in the least. In fact, it suited her slightly melancholy, jet-lagged mood. And though she’d thought she wanted nothing more than to go straight to bed after a sleepless red-eye flight, it was morning in Paris, and as she stepped onto the small balcony of her hotel room, she realized that the excitement of being in a new city provided a surprising source of energy.
She inhaled as she scanned the Paris rooftops, then let her breath out again when she caught partial sight of the Eiffel Tower in the near distance.
As she’d known it would, it made her think of Scott. Of his fondness for the city, his obsession with the structure. It had occurred to Claire when she booked the trip that there were other destinations where it’d be easier to get over him. Places that he hadn’t mentioned, where she wouldn’t be thinking of him every time she passed his beloved Eiffel Tower.
But she didn’t want to do what she’d done with Brayden. To lock all of her feelings in a room with a closed door. She wanted to face the emotions, knowing that even though there’d be pain, there’d also be memories. The good kind.
Claire needed to figure out how to be okay with how she and Scott had ended up—her being in love, him not so much. Paris had seemed like a good compromise. To be reminded of him without having to see him. By the end of the
trip, her goal was to be able to think of the man without her chest aching.
It was a tall order, but she was determined.
Claire sent a text to her parents and Naomi, letting them know she’d arrived safely. Then another to Audrey, thanking her for the twelve—yes, twelve—pictures of Bob.
Then . . .
Then, she had nothing planned other than to roam and, hopefully, acquaint herself with the city. Armed with her purse and an umbrella, Claire left the hotel to begin exploring.
She got why the city was so beloved almost immediately. Not in a way her early-twenty-something self had grasped. She’d liked it well enough then, but as she’d told Scott, that had been more about checking sights off a list.
Claire saw Paris through a different lens now. Saw the way the city had both elegance and grit, noise and quiet, crowds and solitude. She caught a whiff of fresh bread, saw a bakery line out the door, and made a mental note to stop by tomorrow for what she’d been calling her “Eiffel Tower Day.”
She was determined to do it right, as she had promised Scott she would. Wine, bread, the blanket, the picnic basket. And yes, she’d be bringing the fresh flowers he’d vetoed since he wouldn’t be around to know one way or the other.
For now though, she just wandered, not taking pictures, not walking anywhere in particular, and yet somehow she ended up at the Eiffel Tower anyway. She stood for a long time, staring up at it, trying to see it through Scott’s eyes.
She imagined he saw a whole boatload of stuff she didn’t see. The engineering, the metal, the geometry of it. Even to her untrained eye, she had to admit it was pretty fantastic.
So fantastic that even without her picnic supplies, she scanned the grass area for a place to sit, comforted to see that she wasn’t the only person alone. There were plenty of couples, a handful of families, but there was also an older lady in a yellow dress. A guy with his sketchbook. A teen on her cell phone. A man in flannel . . .
Claire’s gaze had already flitted on to the next person, but slowly, as though in a dream, she dragged her eyes back to the guy wearing flannel. His back had been to her before, but he’d turned his head. And was now looking right at her.
Scott.
No, it couldn’t be.
She looked closer. It was him. Heart pounding, she started walking toward him.
His gaze was unreadable, even when she stood directly in front of him, looking down at his face, half-terrified he’d disappear if she said a word.
He spoke first, looking pointedly at both her empty hands. “Was I not clear in the proper way to do this?”
“What?” Her voice was breathy, nothing like how she was used to hearing it.
“I distinctly remembering mentioning wine. Baguette. A blanket. Flowers.”
“You nixed the flowers,” Claire interjected.
He smiled slightly, reaching to his left and holding up a bouquet of mixed flowers in shades of pink and yellow. “I decided you were right.”
Slowly coming out of her daze, Claire took it all in. The flowers. The wine. Two glasses. The baguette poking out of the picnic basket.
The fact that he was here.
He shifted to the side in silent invitation, and Claire slowly lowered beside him, mostly because her legs were shaky and she still wasn’t sure this was real. She looked back at him, found his gaze moving hungrily over her face as though relearning her every feature and committing them to memory.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered.
He nodded toward the tower. “Best view in the house from right here.”
“No, I meant—”
“I know what you meant.” Scott took a deep breath, and she realized that he wasn’t quite as calm and unaffected as he wanted to seem. “Ask me how Shanghai is,” he said.
“Um, okay,” Claire said slowly. “How’s Shanghai?”
“Fascinating.”
Wonderful.
“Ask me how the job is,” he said.
“I already know how the job is; I just talked to you—”
“Ask me, Claire.”
The urgency in his voice gave her pause. “All right. How’s the job?”
“As interesting as promised.”
“Good, I’m glad—”
“Ask me again why I’m here.” He was closer now, his eyes intent on hers.
“Well, it’s hard when you keep interrupting me.”
He didn’t look away. “Ask me.”
“Why are you here?”
Scott lifted a hand, pressing the backs of his fingers to her cheek, then cupped her face. “I’m here because apparently an interesting city and a fascinating job don’t do it for me anymore. So I quit.”
Claire shook her head, not believing what she was hearing. “You can’t quit. That’s your life.”
“No, Claire.” He moved closer. “You’re my life. You, Bob. New York.”
“But you left,” she said, unable to keep the accusation out of her voice. “You left me. And Bob. Rather easily, too.”
“Not easily,” he said roughly, moving even closer, his expression pleading. “Not even close. I know I made a mistake. And I know I haven’t earned a second chance, but damn it, Claire, I want one more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”
“A chance for what?”
“Anything. Whatever you’ll give me.” Both his hands were on her face now. “Please—” Claire cut off his words with a kiss, feeling the way he froze in surprise, then relaxed with relief before kissing her back. “I love you,” he whispered softly against her mouth.
Claire couldn’t remember ever feeling so happy. She rested her hand against his cheek, smiling at the familiar stubble, then she pulled back slightly. “Wait. How did you find me?”
“It’s Paris. Everyone comes to the Eiffel Tower on their first day. But if you hadn’t, my plan was to show up every day until you did.”
“No, how did you know I was in Paris at all?”
“Two guesses. And let’s just say it wasn’t Naomi, who hung up after delivering a blistering assessment of my character.”
She laughed. “Audrey, then. So much for her promise not to get involved anymore.”
He smiled. “Turns out she had a good feeling about me.”
“Actually, more like she was trying to soften you up so you didn’t get mad.”
He frowned. “About what?”
“I take it you don’t follow her on Instagram.”
He shook his head, and Claire pulled out her phone and brought up Audrey’s feed.
“Holy hell,” he muttered. “Is my dog dressed up as Chewbacca?”
“Audrey wanted to get her Halloween on early. She decided ages ago on sexy Princess Leia but wanted a Yoda. Clarke said no, so she decided on Bob.”
He glanced again at the picture in confusion. “So what happened to the Yoda plan?”
“This was her plan B after Bob ate Yoda’s ears.”
Scott nodded. “Sounds about right.” He looked up. “How much longer do we have to talk about my dog and Audrey and Star Wars before you tell me how you feel about me?”
“Well now, see,” she said, plucking grass, “I tried to tell you when I saw my kitchen. That’s when I knew. But you cut me off.”
“I know,” he said in a rough voice. “I won’t cut you off now.”
Claire lifted his hand with both of hers, pressed a kiss to his knuckles. His eyes closed, only to open when she spoke. “I love you, Scott.”
He swallowed, then cleared his throat with a jerky nod, before pulling the picnic basket toward them.
“You hungry?”
“Um, sure,” she said, surprised and a little disappointed at the unceremonious reaction to her telling him how she felt, but then this was Scott. She hadn’t fallen in love with the guy because he was one for romantic words.
She lifted the lid and peeked inside. The baguette, as expected. Cheese. Strawberries. Champagne. She looked at him with a smile, but he didn’t smile back, his expression strangel
y intense.
When she glanced into the basket once more, she saw why. Nestled among the picnic supplies was a small white box that didn’t look like it belonged. Baffled, she reached for the box and opened it.
Claire gasped. Sparkling up at her was the biggest, most extravagant ring she’d ever seen. The center diamond was large in its own right. The diamonds surrounding it were each bigger than the stone on her old ring. And the little pink diamonds that formed a border around the bigger diamonds? Those were perfect.
“Don’t you dare tell me it’s too much,” he said, reaching out and pulling the ring from the box. “Because I want everyone who sees this, and that includes the astronauts on the International Space Station, to know that you’re taken.”
His eyes searched hers. “You want me to do the knee thing? I’ll do the knee thing.”
She laughed, a little breathless, still staring at the ring. “Isn’t this all kind of soon? We have time.”
He reached for her left hand, rubbed his finger along the base of her fourth finger. “It’s not too soon for me. You’re it for me, Claire. But if you need time, I’ll wait as long as it takes.”
Claire gave the only answer she could, the one that had been lodged in her heart the second she saw him sitting on the picnic blanket watching her. “I don’t need time,” she said, looking at him with a bright smile. “Yes. Yes!”
She laughed as he enthusiastically slid the ring on her finger, as though fearing she’d change her mind.
“Oh, that’s heavy,” she said in surprise.
“Good heavy?”
“Great heavy,” she said, kissing him softly.
“How soon until I get to marry you?” he asked, lowering her to the blanket beneath the Eiffel Tower.
Claire smiled. “We’ll figure it out. Later.”
Epilogue
ONE MONTH LATER
And you thought I’d be insufferable,” Naomi protested. “Audrey hasn’t stopped gloating since you got back from Paris. Also, Claire, hon, please make sure you take a water break. Lugging that ring around has got to be dehydrating.”
Claire grinned, lifting her left hand and wiggling her ring, the light bouncing around Audrey’s sunny kitchen. “It never gets old.”
Love on Lexington Avenue Page 22
