by Amber Scott
Claire blanched a little. She half-nodded and half-shook her head. “Yeah. I mean, yes. Of course. Where are my clothes?”
“Here.” Jace shoved the pile to her and stood.
A hard knock on his front door, with the doorbell on its heels, proved that Tyler had arrived. “Shit! Double shit.”
“Alright. Don’t panic. Don’t assume, okay?” Claire zipped up her jeans. “For all you know, he found out where I’m registered for the wedding. Just act normal, let him in, we’ll say I ran into you at the mall, no, at the restaurant. Stick to the truth. And then I’ll say hello and goodbye.”
Jace nodded, feeling a touch less queasy. “We should tell him.”
“Not like this, Jace. Please?”
“You’re right. This looks like he busted us.” He looked at the door, looked at her. “Stay in the bedroom?”
“My car is in your driveway,” she said, her hands shaking as she smoothed her hair. “I can’t hide all night. I have to take care of things.”
Another loud knock. “Coming,” Jace called out, wincing, realizing that they’d made him wait and that it would only look worse. He was in the bathroom. That’s what he’d say. “I’ll get rid of him quick. Tell him I have to work. Okay? Please?”
Claire threw her hands up, but nodded. “Super quick.”
He kissed her and head to the door, opening it a little out of breath. “Sheesh, can a guy flush?”
Tyler stood there. His eyes were red rimmed, and his clothes were rumpled. Tyler gave Jace a weak smile. “Sorry.”
“That’s okay,” he said, the weight of guilt and the sting of being caught amplifying. Claire was right. Not like this. Over lunch, over a beer, hell, in church, would be better than Tyler finding out like this. “Come in. What is it? What’s happened?”
“I’m sorry,” he said, following him into the living room. “I didn’t know who else to talk to.”
“About?” He flipped on a few lights, trying not to glance at his closed bedroom door. “Beer?”
“Nah, I gotta drive. Water?” Tyler paced a circle, his hand at his neck.
Water could wait. Jace sat. Whatever Tyler was about to say, Jace needed to just hear it. His gut couldn’t take putting it off.
“What’s up, bro?” Jace asked.
Tyler frowned. “His name is Oliver.”
The tension is in gut flip-flopped. “Who are we talking about?” Like he didn’t know. But did Tyler know he knew?
“I could kick myself for not making that lunch. I could have seen her, I mean really hung out. You know?”
“Claire.”
“She’s the one that got away.”
Yeah. So Tyler had said too many times to count. Jace rubbed his temples.
“But what if this is my chance to not let her get away?”
“What?”
“I think her fiance is cheating on her.”
Jace shook his head in disbelief. How far did he let this go? Far enough to hear about Claire’s soon to be ex. He needed to know. So much could change if her fiance was cheating. So much about today...tomorrow. He didn’t know whether to hope for it or fear it. He didn’t want to be Claire’s back up plan. “What makes you think that?”
“I’ve been following him.”
“You what?!” Oh, shit his brother was in deeper than Jace ever could have guessed.
“I know, I know. It’s nuts. But it’s been eating at me, you know?” Tyler paced again. “Why didn’t she dig me?” He came to a stop. “I think she was into someone else.”
“What does how she felt six years ago have to do with her fiance now?”
“Because it feels the same now. Like if I could figure out who this guy is and what drew her to him, maybe I,” he paused, sitting down, looking Jace in the eye. “Maybe then I could win her back.”
***
Claire didn’t do well with drama. Her pulse speeding up gave her hot flashes and made her palms sweat like sponges.
She pressed her ear to the door, swearing no way did she just hear right.
Tyler thought Oliver was cheating on her? Sadly, that part hardly bothered her. The information kicked her pulse up higher, turned her stomach, but all in all, nothing that hiding and spying wasn’t already accomplishing.
Tyler wanted to win her back? Oh, fungoo! Sure, she knew he had lingering feelings, but following her fiance around so he could win her back?
She pressed her ear closer to the seam, eyeing the room for a way out. Oliver cheating. Tyler that in love with her. Oh God, how much more screwed could this situation get? She needed to get out of here. The walls were too close. If Tyler found her here now...she couldn’t think about it.
She couldn’t let it happen. Yet, she couldn’t stop listening.
“I blew it,” Tyler said. “She was right here.” A snapping sound. “And gone again. Just like that.” A pause. Mumble. “Do you know how hard it was to track down her fiancé? How lucky to actually see him with someone else, and then to find her here, all by chance?” What was Jace doing? Nodding? Gaping? “Destiny laid it out for me. And I blew it.”
Since when had Tyler been a fan of fate?
“I love her, Jace.” His voice carried, changing distance. Like he was walking around. “I still love her, and that day you came over, you made me realize I never fought for her—not hard enough, and not long enough. And no other woman will ever compare. Ever since I’ve been trying to find a way to see her, meet her, and try to break her and her fiancé up.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Don’t look at me like that. I know it’s crazy, but if you knew how I felt, you’d understand. If someone affected you like this, I would understand if you went to hell and back to win her.”
The eerie sound of floorboards squeaking close by sent Claire backwards. Was Tyler coming?
Window. Quick. She dashed for it. Fumbling with the lock, she eased it open, wincing when it whined. A screen. Shit. More footsteps. Closer!
She pushed on the screen and climbed out, careful of the prickly pear cactus nearby. She edged around the house and snuck to her car. Pulling out of the drive, she waited a block to flip on her lights and let herself finally flip out.
And the tears began pouring.
~~
Chapter Eighteen
Three blocks away and counting, Claire pressed a hand to her stomach. The sick feeling in it only worsened, though. She vowed that she would not throw up. Yes, she felt rotten; but no, she would not puke.
The day’s stress had gotten to her. She’d won the man of her dreams, or so she’d thought. Now, in a matter of minutes, everything was spinning out of control. Oliver had been seen with another woman by her ex-boyfriend, who was definitely still in love with her—or at least, the woman he thought she was, anyway—polished, self-possessed, and worldly—and the man she wanted to change everything for had cold feet.
She didn’t want to blame Jace. How could she, when she knew and had always known, how close the brothers were? Nonetheless, it rankled her. More than rankled. It unnerved her. Suddenly, she was leaving to end her engagement as planned, but with new and very convenient information, and the only thing she could feel was rejected.
Stupid. Ridiculous! Jace hadn’t rejected her. He loved her. He just couldn’t possibly have told Tyler right then. A little voice inside her argued, if not now, when? When would it get any easier? After she’d called off her wedding, lost her job, alienated her family? Would Jace then be willing to risk the same for a future together?
She swallowed against an immovable lump. The truth was, Claire didn’t know. She couldn’t say what Jace would risk to be with her, because she hadn’t thought to ask. Or if she had, she’d chickened out—too happy to be in his arms, to smell his hair, to tickle their toes against each other.
What if Jace couldn’t choose her?
The green light ahead changed to red. Part of her wanted to turn the car around, go back, and force Jace to tell Tyler the truth. To plant one of those earthshattering Hollywood kisses
on him, take his breath away, and tell Tyler that she was in love with his brother.
The rest of her was sane enough not to. Most of her just wanted to go home, lock herself in the bathroom, wine in hand, and dwell on this conundrum until a hot bath (or her emotions) cooled off enough to see a solution.
There had to be one.
One that didn’t destroy lives for two people’s chances for love. After all, how much fun could it be to have your dream person if that’s all you had left? No one else. No mother to cry to during a bad fight, no dad to tell about Jace’s promotion, house-hunting progress and whether or not they were coming for Christmas this year.
An ache mixed with the nausea. Her vision blurred with tears. She had to pull over. She had to call someone, anyone, to get her grounded again. But whom?
She veered into the first gas station once the light turned green and, mercifully, her phone rang. Without looking at the screen to see who it was—anyone would do; a telemarketer would do--she answered.
“Claire?”
She shifted into park. “Mom?”
“Honey, what’s the matter? You sound like you’re crying,”
The ocean of tears that she’d barely kept dammed spilt over, with more and more emotion following. She sobbed, unable to speak for a moment, trying to catch her breath.
“Honey,” her mother demanded. “What is it? Are you hurt? Where are you?”
“Mom,” she said, wiping her nose, ignoring the curious stares from passersby. “It’s everything. Everything is wrong.”
“Oh, honey,” Eve Byron said with a sympathetic chuckle. “Come straight over here. I’m guessing that's your car’s engine in the background, and that something’s happened with you and Oliver. Am I right?”
“You could say that,” Claire said, wiping a hand over her face.
“Well, come over. Doug is out, and I was calling to invite you over anyhow.”
Claire exhaled a shaky breath. Really, she should go home, face Oliver, and end it. But the lure of a mother’s comfort, a rare thing in and of itself, was too attractive. “All right. But I can’t stay long. Oliver and I have to talk.”
“Fine, fine. I won’t keep you long, I promise. Now hurry up. Karen’s got something delicious cooking in the oven.”
Claire hung up, a wry smile on her lips. Doug, her stepfather of all of two years, was out whenever she came to see her mother on their ritual monthly visits. And Karen, the housekeeper her mother “wouldn’t know what to do without,” always had some tasty treat coming out of the oven.
She sometimes wondered what her mother was trying to conceal from her. But then, appearances were nearly everything for Eve Byron. Which meant this would be the least fun person to start her life’s unraveling with.
Had to start somewhere.
Even if Jace did end up rejecting her, everything had changed. She and Oliver were over. Oliver.
Suddenly, home to Oliver didn’t seem such an ugly idea. Too late, though. She’d committed, or at least, had not declined. So, Claire took a steadying gulp of air and put her car in reverse. Sooner or later, she would face each firing squad. And the sooner she did, the easier it would be to look Jace in the eye, finally tell him how she felt, and, if need be, ask him to do the same, to own up to what he felt for her.
To the whole clan.
Less than ten minutes later, Claire entered the gate code to her mother’s upscale Scottsdale community and drove to the last, largest house. She parked in the curved drive, just before the door, spaced for a quick departure should she need one.
A thousand possible reactions Eve Byron might or may not have to the unsettling news that her daughter was canceling her wedding to a prominent man, and tossing her prestigious new position in his family’s law firm out, sat in wait in Claire’s active imagination.
None were great. Some were comical, particularly the pulling-hair and maniacally screaming one, where Claire came to the rescue and gave Eve a sound slap, which somehow righted the whole scene.
Claire knew she wasn’t coming into comforting arms and reassurances. She knew there might be tears, dosed heavily with guilt and a generous dash of denial.
Squaring her shoulders, she pocketed her keys and strode to the door. As was typical, a curtain fluttered near the entryway, and the door was opened before she could knock.
“Honey!” Eve double-kissed each cheek and even gave Claire a short hug. “There now, I knew those awful tears would be gone before you got here. Come on in so we can get rid of all those icky nerves and jitters. I’ll show you the napkin rings. They’re just adorable and match the stemware so perfectly.”
Claire half-laughed and followed her mother into the immaculate, sun-filled living room. They sat; Karen brought in pastries with a heartfelt smile at Claire and left a tide of silence behind.
She couldn’t eat. She wished she could. Stuffing her face would buy her a little time for her brain to cough up a place to begin.
“The Pattersons changed their reservation to a yes, so we can go over a new table seating. First though, you tell me, what did Oliver do that got you so upset?” Eve asked, eyes on her lap as she brushed at some invisible lint.
Claire swallowed. “He was seen with another woman.” Most likely the woman he brought home for our threesome. What was her name? Trina.
“Well, I can see why you might have jumped to conclusions. Why, I was an absolute wreck the entire month before I married Gordon.”
Gordon. Not “your father,” just “Gordon.” Somehow, Claire doubted their prenuptial dilemmas were anything like this. Claire took a fortifying breath. “I’m calling off the wedding, Mother. Oliver doesn’t know, yet. I’m going home to tell him after I leave here.” Claire willed her mother to look up with some sign that what she’d just heard had registered. She didn’t. “It’s over. Oliver and I can’t get married.”
Eve chewed, pursing and unpursing her lips. She swallowed delicately and tipped her head. “Claire, your best quality has always been your uncanny ability to be sensible. I’ve always admired you for that.” She locked her eyes to Claire’s, hope shining in them like a plea. “Your wedding is just days away. Surely, after such a long engagement and all this planning and preparing, such a monumental change of heart should be given some time for consideration.”
Claire forced her eyes not to roll. But she did sigh. “Mother, I have given it thought. Too much thought, for too long. I cannot marry Oliver.” She shook her head and reached out to briefly touch her mother’s knee when she looked away.
“And why not? Because you think you saw something? Have you even offered Oliver the chance to redeem himself?” Her mother’s eyes were steely when her gaze returned.
“No. I would be ending it even if I didn’t know he was seen with another woman.”
“Seen? Are you saying that you weren’t even the one to see him? Well, that’s ridiculous, Claire! Of all things, take care in believing what others say, particularly when you are in such an enviable position as Oliver Garrison’s fiancé.”
Claire looked heavenward and took another deep breath. “It’s not because of Oliver, Mother. In truth, I don’t much care whom he was seen with. I just didn’t know where else to start all of this. I wasn’t crying over Oliver.” She fought to keep her voice level and calm.
“Of course you were. Who wouldn’t be? But honey, think of his parents. Think of me. How can you call off this wedding? Think of the hundred and seventy-five guests, of the gossip.” Eve stood and walked to the window. She crossed and uncrossed her arms. “I can’t bear to think of people talking about you like that. No, no. Better to marry Oliver and if you continue to feel this way, go to couples' counseling, or at least give him a chance to right whatever he has done to get you to this point.” She returned to her seat, smoothing her slacks and imploring Claire with her eyes and hands.
She should have looked at the caller ID. She should have gone back to Jace’s and forced him to tell Tyler. They could have done it all together, fac
ed the first firing squad. Instead, Jace had chickened out. And she had let him. Claire put a hand over the pain in her chest. She didn’t want to hurt her mom like this. Not anyone. Of course she had thought of what people would say and think and gossip. But it all had seemed surmountable when Jace smiled at her in that crooked, boyish way of his, like he was asking—needing—for someone to just love him. For Claire to please just love him.
The ache turned to a sharp pain, and tears welled in her eyes.
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that it happened like this, to her. Why couldn’t she have fallen so hard for Oliver? Or Tyler, for that matter. Why Jace?
But, she knew deep in her soul that fair had nothing to do with it. In truth, she was lucky. She was lucky enough to know, without a doubt, who she was meant for.
And Jace was worth it.
Claire blinked, but her tears fell anyway. “Mother, I’m not in love with Oliver.” Don’t make her say it. She had to say it. She took her mother’s hand and squeezed it so she would meet her eyes. “I’m in love with ... someone else.”
Eve’s mouth parted. Her eyes darted between her lap and Claire’s face. Claire nodded slowly, watching the denial slip over her mother’s features, waiting for the gruesome reaction that she’d imagined to be realized.
Half-frowning, half-smiling, Eve shook her head. “Honey, you do love Oliver.”
Claire sighed, closing her eyes. “I thought I did, Mom.” She let go of her hand. “But what I really was in love with was the life he could give me. A photograph on a mantel.”
“But,” her mother said, waving a hand through the air. “But, you and Oliver have been together for years now. Surely, you would not have stayed with him all this time.”
The ache in her chest eased. Claire nodded, sensing that the gruesome horror scene might not play out after all. “I know. But six years ago, when I met Jace ...”
“Six years?” Eve demanded.
