Say You Love Me

by Heather B. Moore

  “But it’s in the past,” Clara said. “And you need to leave it there.” She grasped his hand that was on his neck. “I agree with your mom. You need to burn this list and move on.”

  He moved their hands in front of them and linked their fingers. “I’ve moved on.”

  “You need to burn this letter.”

  He stared at her for a moment, then said, “I don’t have matches.”

  “I do.”

  He raised his brows.

  “In the emergency kit in my car,” she clarified. “It’s not like I planned this or anything.”

  He continued to stare at her, and she continued to stare back, not wavering her gaze.

  “Okay,” he said at last, then cradled her face with his hands and kissed her.

  Clara let the kiss last for only a couple of seconds, and then she drew away. It was too easy to get lost in the warmth of him. “I’ll get the matches.”

  Dawson didn’t protest or try to stop her as she put on her shoes, then crossed the living room and opened the front door.

  She returned a few minutes later to find that Dawson had brought the half-empty plate of brownies back to the counter, along with the letter.

  “Ready?” she said. “Is there some place we can burn it without setting off a smoke detector?”

  “There’s a walking path that leads to a small park on the other side of the complex,” Dawson said, his brown eyes focused on her. “No one will be there this time of night.”

  “Okay, grab your shoes,” Clara said. She picked up the letter and folded it in half while she waited for him to get shoes. When he came back in the kitchen, she held out her hand to Dawson.

  She felt relieved when he took it. She hoped he wouldn’t change his mind. Whatever issues he’d had with his ex-wife, deep or shallow, he needed to move on from them. Which, of course, was ironic, because Clara knew she needed to move on from her relationship issues as well. Maybe burning the letter would be cathartic for both of them.

  They left the condo, and Dawson kept his hand in hers as he led her between a row of condos and onto a walking path. He didn’t say anything as they walked, and Clara wondered if she was being too pushy. Would Dawson actually go through with this, and if he did, would he regret it?

  Once they reached a small park with a couple of benches and a jungle gym, Dawson dropped her hand and took both the matches and letter from her.

  “Are you sure?” Clara said, putting a hand on his arm. “I don’t want to pressure you.”

  Dawson met her gaze. “I’m sure. And you’re right. Both you and my mom.” He knelt on the walking path and tore the letter into several pieces. Then he struck a match and lit each section. Within seconds the letter pieces were curling into black masses, framed by small orange flames. As they turned to smoldering ash, Dawson stepped on them, grinding them down to nothing but black specs.

  “You did it,” Clara said in a soft voice.

  Dawson pulled her into his arms. She wrapped her arms about his waist and rested her head against his chest.

  “Thank you,” he whispered into her hair.

  She closed her eyes and breathed him in, reveling in the warm sturdiness of his torso. She didn’t know how long they stayed in that position, but when Dawson pulled away, she felt like she was waking up from a dream.

  “Do you want to watch a movie or something?” he asked.

  Clara blinked up at him. “At the theater?”

  “We could do that.” He slid his hands to the top of her hips. “Or we could watch something at my house on Netflix.”

  Clara had a sudden flash of memory of spending nights on her grandma’s couch while she watched whatever series Max was currently addicted to. She could barely follow the episodes because he skipped ahead on his own.

  “Maybe,” she said.

  Dawson raised a hand and touched her cheek. “You choose the movie. I’m way behind in what’s out there.”

  “You don’t follow any Netflix series?” she asked, leaning slightly against his hand. Hanging out on Dawson’s couch wasn’t sounding like such a bad idea after all.

  “No,” he said. “I’ve watched an episode of a couple of things here and there, but the plot lines move so slowly that I get too impatient and give up. I guess I’m just a two-hour-movie type of guy.”

  “Huh.”

  “Do you follow any of the series?”

  “Just one,” she said. “I mean, I’ve started a few of them but haven’t gotten through the full season with any of them.”

  “Which one do you follow?”

  “Jane the Virgin,” she said. “Total chick series.”

  His brows lifted. “Jane the Virgin?”

  “It’s funny, but a lot of women humor,” Clara said. “Jane is the main character, and she’s made a vow to stay chaste until marriage. Then at a doctor appointment, she’s artificially inseminated by mistake, and she becomes pregnant.”

  Dawson was just staring at her.

  She laughed. “Don’t worry, I won’t foist it upon you.”

  “No,” he said, moving his hand to grasp hers. “Sounds kind of bizarre, but I’m willing to give it a shot.”

  “You really don’t have to, Dawson,” she said as they started walking along the path back toward the condos.

  He bumped her shoulder with his arm. “I want to, so stop trying to talk me out of it.”

  Clara bit her lip, and Dawson pulled her to a halt.

  “When you do that, it makes me want to kiss you,” he said in a hoarse voice.

  And he did just that.

  Clara practically melted against him as he kissed her quite thoroughly.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said in a breathless voice when he pulled away.

  They made it back to his condo without any more lip-biting or kissing. Clara took off her shoes and settled on Dawson’s couch while he turned on the television with a remote that looked like it was straight from outer space.

  “So, Jane the Virgin, huh?” he asked

  “Like I said, we don’t have to watch it.”

  Dawson pulled up the menu and selected the series. “Are we watching episode one, or are you going to catch me up?”

  “Either way,” she said. “I’m on episode thirteen, but there’s a lot of complicated backstory.”

  “One it is.” He clicked on the first episode and settled next to Clara. Right next to her. “Am I too close?”

  “No,” she said, smiling to herself and resting her head against his shoulder.

  He moved his arm to accommodate her, and before she knew it, she was nestled against his side. She just hoped Dawson wouldn’t hate the show and make fun of it like Max would have. Clara had learned quickly not to suggest her favorite shows to Max, because he’d ruin them with his snide comments. It was easier to watch what he liked, even if sometimes she’d rather just be alone.

  Another red flag she’d ignored while they were dating.

  Dawson laughed at several things as the episode progressed. This made Clara happy.

  “I think this is the weirdest show I’ve ever seen,” Dawson said as the credits rolled at the end of the first episode. “But it’s funny.”

  Clara looked up at him. “I’m glad you like it. Now we have another thing in common.”

  His eyes seemed to darken as he gazed down at her. “Yep.” Then he lifted his free hand and brushed his fingers along her jaw. “What I can’t figure out is how that guy you used to date would ever choose another woman over you. And what possessed him to be serious with more than one woman at a time?”

  Clara exhaled. She sort of just wanted Dawson to kiss her and not bring up Max. “Well, his other woman was the one he loved, and I was the money bag.” She shrugged. “He wanted the best of both, I guess.”

  “Money bag?” Dawson asked. “Are kindergarten teachers making millions?”

  “No,” Clara said with a laugh. “My grandparents’ property is prime real estate. They were offered a purchase price mo
re than once by the city, but they always turned it down.”

  “But you sold it, right?” he said.

  “I accepted the offer on the house and land,” she said. “After I consulted with my boss, of course. It should close in a couple of weeks. I’ll have to go back home to sign papers.”

  Dawson leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll go with you.”

  For some reason, this made Clara’s eyes burn. She blinked and looked back toward the television. “We can watch something else if you want.”

  “Oh, no,” Dawson said. “I definitely have to find out how Jane is going to tell her boyfriend she’s pregnant.”

  Dawson slowly came awake, and he stretched, glad he’d finally gotten some deep sleep. Then his foot hit something hard, and he opened his eyes. How had he fallen asleep on his couch?

  The events from the night before came back into focus. After a couple of Netflix episodes, he’d watched a movie with Clara—some romantic comedy she’d chosen.

  He must have fallen asleep, and then she’d left.

  Dawson groaned and sat up. Sure enough, her shoes and all the stuff she’d brought over were gone. He didn’t like the fact that she’d had to show herself out while he was crashed out on the couch.

  He rose and stretched, a bit achy. The microwave clock told him it was just after 8:00 a.m. He guessed he’d fallen asleep sometime after 11:00 p.m. Well, he had been tired, but he’d had no intention of becoming that negligent with Clara over. He hoped she wasn’t mad at him.

  Walking into his bedroom, he unplugged his phone from its charger and sat on the edge of his bed to see what he’d missed in the past fourteen hours. It was pretty much a record for him.

  Two calls from his mom, along with three calls from his paralegal—all with attached messages. A handful of texts, and thirty-three emails. Not bad. Nothing had burned down, and no one had died.

  Instead of returning any of the messages, or opening any emails, he leaned back on the pillows on the bed and called Clara.

  She didn’t answer, so he sent her a text. Sorry for falling asleep on you. I hope you got home okay.

  After showering and digging into the emails on his laptop, and no reply from Clara, he called his mom back.

  “Did you get my message?” she asked the moment she answered the phone.

  “The one about the rain forecast?” he asked.

  “Yes, but we’re still having the barbeque,” she said. “We’ll just plan to eat indoors.”

  “All right, that sounds good.” He wondered where Clara was and why she hadn’t called.

  His mom paused, and Dawson already knew what she was going to ask. “Is your friend coming tonight?”

  “I’m not sure,” he said. After last night, he thought maybe Clara would agree to come. They were practically a couple, considering all of the kissing they’d done last night, as well as the burning letter in the park.

  Dawson had to admit he felt lighter, and somehow freer, with that letter destroyed. “I burned Romy’s letter last night.”

  “I’m glad,” his mom said. “I was hoping you’d get rid of it.”

  “Well, Clara had the same idea as you, and after I thought more about it, I agreed.” He exhaled. “I think it was a good move and will help me move forward.”

  Despite his mom’s focus on the barbeque, and having him spend time with Paula Smith, she knew burning the letter was a big deal. “It was a good move, and I’m glad Clara thought so too. If you need to bring her, then bring her.”

  Dawson almost laughed at the way his mom’s tone said anything but bring Clara. He also wasn’t going to admit that he’d communicated with Paula either, because then his mom would just ask more questions.

  “I’ll let you know one way or the other,” Dawson told his mom. “I’ve got to catch up on a few things now.” When he hung up, he checked his phone to make sure he hadn’t missed any call or text from Clara. Maybe she’d gone to a yoga class and didn’t have her phone on her.

  So he returned to his laptop, and it wasn’t until his stomach started grumbling that he realized another two hours had passed. He moved to the fridge and started to warm up the leftover spaghetti.

  Texting Clara again, he wrote: Want me to save you some leftover spaghetti? Warming it up now.

  No reply. Dawson went ahead and started eating. Clara had been right. It was even better the second day.

  He was rinsing off his dishes when someone knocked on his door. He froze for a second, thinking it was Leslie, but she wasn’t speaking to him. So he turned off the water and dried his hands. Then he went to the door and opened it.

  “Clara.” He opened the door wide. She wore a knit shirt and leggings, and stood there with her arms folded as if she wasn’t sure if she should have come over. “Come in. I was wondering where you went.”

  She gave him a small smile as she entered, her arms still folded. Dawson shut the door and intended to scoop her up into a hug, but she wasn’t looking at him.

  “Hey, what’s going on?” he asked.

  “Um, I went hiking for awhile up by the ski resort so I could clear my head after last night.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked. “I thought we had a nice time.”

  Clara wiped at her face.

  Dawson felt as if he’d been hollowed out. Everything in her voice and manner told him what was coming and that there was nothing he could do about it.

  She raised her gaze to meet his, and now that he could see her up close, her eyes were red-rimmed.

  “Are you okay?” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Clara?”

  “I—I really like you, Dawson, but I just need to figure out who I am.” She sniffled. “I just—when I’m with you, I feel like I’m becoming lost . . . in you. And normally, that would be a good thing because you’re a great guy. An amazing guy.”

  Dawson tried to breathe normally. Clara was dumping him.

  “I like being friends with you,” she said. “But when I’m with you, it’s just too easy to get into the other stuff.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t know if it’s possible to separate the two. In fact, I know it would be impossible. When I left last night, you were asleep, and I thought about all the stuff you’ve gone through. You deserve someone who isn’t skittish like me. Someone who can jump in with two feet and not have doubts.”

  Dawson didn’t move for a moment. Then he squeezed her shoulder slightly and dropped his hand. “What are you afraid of?” he asked in quiet voice.

  She blinked, then brushed at the tears on her cheeks. “Of trusting in something that has no guarantee. Once my grandparents’ house sells, I’ll have nothing left. Nothing of myself. So I need to figure out my life and what I want it to be. I hope you’ll understand when I say I need to do this myself.”

  He wanted to argue with her and tell her she had everything despite her losses. She had her job. She could make great friends. He could be her friend. She could start teaching again. But he told her none of that, because he knew she’d made up her mind.

  He could see it in the determined lift of her chin as she looked at him and said, “I’m really sorry, Dawson.”

  He didn’t move as she turned from him, opened the door, and walked out.

  The door shut behind her before he could reach the handle. He rested his hand on the doorknob. If he turned it and opened the door, he knew he’d go after her. But if he dropped his hand, he knew he was admitting defeat.

  Romy hadn’t given him a chance to fight. And neither had Clara.

  He knew if he went after Clara, he’d see the rejection in her eyes. In some ways, this moment was more painful than the moment he’d received the divorce papers. The divorce was hard, but when Dawson thought through everything, he knew it was right.

  Clara . . . Clara was confused and still grieving, and he didn’t blame her for pushing him away. But pushing everyone and everything away was wrong. They didn’t need to date; they didn’t need to be intimate. Yet, he wondered if such a thing
was possible. Could they be purely friends? Especially when there was such a strong attraction between them?

  Dawson turned the doorknob and opened the door to see her car turning out of the parking lot onto the main road. He folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe long after her car disappeared from sight.

  His phone started ringing inside the condo, dragging him from his daze. The ringing stopped; then a few minutes later, it started again. He straightened and went inside, shutting the door behind him.

  The caller had been Mandy. He cleared his throat and called her back. Work. Work he could do. Relationships, not so much.

  He spent the next several hours going back and forth on a couple of briefs with Mandy, as well as taking a few calls from clients. Jeff called at one point, and Dawson thought about sending the call to voice mail.

  But he picked up, and he was glad he did.

  “Hey, Dawson, sorry for the awkward call,” Jeff said. “But do you happen to know where Clara is? She’s usually in the office on Saturdays, but she hasn’t answered any of my texts or emails.”

  “Oh, she said she went on a hike, but that was . . .” He glanced at the time on his phone.

  “Never mind, she’s calling in right now.” Jeff hung up.

  Dawson’s instinct was to wait a few minutes, then call Clara himself to make sure she was okay. But she’d made it pretty clear she didn’t even want to be friends. He gazed at his phone for a few minutes, wondering if he should text her. Or maybe call Jeff back and explain more of what was going on.

  But if Clara had called Jeff, then Dawson knew he should leave it alone.

  At that moment, his mom called. Of course.

  Dawson answered, “Hi, Mom.”

  “Oh, good, I caught you,” she said. “It looks like it’s going to rain for sure, so just plan on inside.”

  Dawson rubbed his forehead. “Okay,” he said in a calm voice he didn’t feel.

  “So whenever the two of you get here is fine, but we’re planning on eating around six.”

  He took a breath. “It will be just me, and I’ll be there before six.” Since things with Clara seemed to be at an end, it didn’t mean he needed to wallow at home and make his parents upset he wasn’t at their barbeque.