by Olivia Miles
“I don’t think I’ve seen a sky like this in years,” Claire marveled. She was whispering, even though there was no one around, but in the still night, he heard her clearly.
He pointed up at one of his favorite constellations. “You don’t see the stars in the city. Not this clearly, anyhow.”
“Looking forward to getting back?” she asked.
“Not really,” he admitted. “You?”
“Not really,” she replied, and then shivered.
Ethan wriggled out of his suit coat, causing the hammock to sway precariously to the ground—he had to set his foot down to steady them. Finally, he pulled the jacket free and draped it over Claire’s torso. “Better?” he asked, settling back against the pillow again.
“You’re too good to me,” she said, pulling the coat up around her chin.
“I could say the same back to you,” he said. He stared up at the vast sky, relaxing into the moment. “I have to thank you, Claire. For going along with this . . .ruse. I haven’t enjoyed my time here in a while. It’s because of you.”
He heard a soft rustling beside him. Claire never had been good at accepting compliments. “Happy to help,” she finally said.
He knew he could have let it go there, but he felt compelled to push, to explain, to somehow make clear this restlessness he felt. This urge to press their cozy situation. To see how great things could be.
“I know we’ve been playing a part, but you’ve made me see Grey Harbor a little differently. The way I used to see it. The good parts.”
“There are a lot of things to love here,” she agreed.
He turned to look at her, surprised to meet her eyes. His pulse kicked as his gaze roamed her face, trailing from her lashes to her lips. He swallowed hard, hearing the beat of his heart cut through the silence. “There are.”
He leaned in, almost not daring to take this step but not willing to let the moment go, either. This was deliberate, chosen, there was no Aunt Milly egging him on. He didn’t know how Claire would react, but he wouldn’t know unless he tried. And he had to try, damn it. He couldn’t fight it anymore.
Her lips were soft and warm, and she opened her mouth to him, letting him kiss her deeply, slowly, as his arm came around her waist, pulling her to him. He pushed the suit coat away, grazing his fingers over the thin, silky material of her dress, pressing his chest against hers until he felt the swell of her breasts, the beat of her heart.
He kissed her mouth, her neck, her cheeks, feeling their connection transition from friendship to lover, as easily as if it had been headed that way all along, whether or not either of them had been ready to admit it.
Chapter Eleven
Even before Claire opened her eyes, she knew that something was different. No, that something had changed. There had been a shift, a risk that she’d taken. She stirred, stiffening as she felt a weight holding her in place.
Ethan was behind her, his arm wrapped firmly around her waist. He was rousing, she could feel it. She braced herself, made up an excuse, and steeled herself for the inevitable. Convinced herself that it didn’t matter what had happened last night, that they could go back to being friends, that nothing had to change. But something had changed.
The hammock swayed as Ethan moved, and Claire darted her eyes to the house, wondering if they’d been spotted by his mother and sisters. She pulled the suit coat a little higher, even though she was still wearing her dress. They’d made love slowly last night, tenderly, never fully disrobing even, careful not to rock the hammock, or perhaps just careful to enjoy the moment. She couldn’t be sure anymore. It felt like a dream, a blurry, vague experience that might not have even happened. Except it had. And lying here, with the sun beating down through the willow branches and the birds chirping ahead was her proof.
Ethan opened one eye and then the other. His mouth tipped into a slow grin that made her heart roll over. “Good morning,” he said, his voice gravelly and deep.
“Hey,” she said, smiling back, laughing when he pulled her a little closer, nuzzling into the crook of her neck.
He kissed her again, nibbling her neck, making her squirm with pleasure, but when she opened her eyes, she pulled back hard, nearly falling off the hammock until Ethan was quick to reach out an arm and catch her.
“Jesus!” he cried. “That eager to get away from me, are you?”
She shot him a look of warning. “Your mother,” she hissed, motioning toward the house with her chin.
Barbara was standing at the base of the patio, staring at them with wide eyes, one hip turned as if she was trying to flee but hadn’t been quick enough. When Ethan turned to see what was going on, Barbara rearranged her expression into a smile and waved cheerfully. “I was just coming down to see if you’re coming to the wedding brunch,” she called. “But I can see you’re already up.”
“What time is it?” Claire asked, puzzled.
Ethan checked his watch. “Nine. We slept in.”
“That’s the best sleep I’ve had in months,” Claire marveled, relieved to see Barbara retreating into the house. She looked at Ethan, wondering if she should say something, ask what had happened last night, if they knew what they were doing, or if they had simply gotten caught up in the parts they were playing.
But then she felt his hand come up and brush a strand of hair from her cheek. Ethan grinned at her before leaning in for a quick kiss. “Me too.”
***
The wedding brunch was held at Milly’s house, another lakeside property a bit farther up the beach. While a bit smaller than her sister Barbara’s home, Milly’s white Cape was bursting with lilac bushes and charm. Quirky stone ducks guided their walk up to the big back porch, where a long table was set up for the meal. Vases of fresh lilacs were scattered over the surface, which was covered in a crisp white tablecloth. Servers were passing champagne cocktails and a chef’s station was set up near the edge of the deck, near a coffee stand.
“This is so elaborate,” Claire mused, taking it all in. She almost said she now hoped to have something like it when she got married, but she managed to stop herself just in time. She couldn’t exactly say things like that to Ethan now, could she? Not after last night.
Eventually, they’d have to talk, but for now . . . She looked down to where his hand held hers, then up and around the beautiful white sprawling deck with views of the still waters of Lake Michigan. For now she would just enjoy the moment. Before long they’d be in the car, heading back to the city.
Back to reality, she thought, all at once filled with dread. Back to sleeping on Hailey’s couch and searching for a job. And back to just being Ethan’s best friend?
She felt him watching her and flashed him an involuntary grin, even though her stomach felt a little uneasy and her heart was fluttering in a way it probably shouldn’t. They were on vacation, swept up in one beautiful and romantic party after the next, without a care in the world. As much as she wished she could keep this going forever, she knew she couldn’t.
Still, as Ethan dropped her hand, he just as quickly set it on the small of her back, his eyes taking on a gleam as they walked to the buffet. Claire had to laugh. Some things were still the same, and that was reassuring.
They filled their plates and took a seat at the far end of the table, near some of Ethan’s cousins, a rowdy bunch that were roughly her age. Ethan introduced her to the men, who she was told now lived all over the country, from Seattle to Boston.
“This is almost like a family reunion then,” she commented, thinking of what a nice weekend it must be for them all. Hailey was her only cousin, and while they were as close as sisters, she had always longed for the bustle of a big, dynamic family like this one.
The cousin with mischievous clear blue eyes grinned at Ethan. “Ethan here had a reunion all of his own last night. Isn’t that right, Eth?”
Claire frowned. “What do you mean?”
But the guy was looking past her, straight at Ethan, whose jaw had gone tense as he set down
his fork. “Ethan knows what I mean. Kimberly’s hard to miss.”
“Kimberly was there last night?” Claire’s voice croaked as the realization hit hard. “Did you see her?” But of course he had. Silly girl. It was all becoming clear now.
Ethan’s eyes darkened with admittance, and she didn’t need to wait for him to speak to know the answer. She managed to choke down the last of her coffee, and then stood on shaky legs. “Think I’ll get a refill.”
Only she didn’t go to the coffee stand. Instead, she handed her mug to the nearest member of the catering staff and casually walked down the stairs to the lawn, even though her heart was pounding and all she wanted to do was break into a mad sprint.
Ethan was behind her, she could hear his feet on the steps as she hit the grass, but she didn’t stop. She walked as quickly as she could without making a scene, not turning around until she was hidden by a row of evergreens, out of sight.
“So that’s what last night was all about that?” She folded her arms across her chest; the blood was rushing in her ears. “You saw Kimberly. Your ex-fiancée.”
Ethan dragged a hand through his hair. “It wasn’t like that. It doesn’t matter.”
“I’m not going to be your rebound girl,” she said, pushing past him. She’d already been there, done that once, and look where it had gotten her.
“You weren’t my rebound girl,” he said, grabbing her by the elbow.
“Then what am I?” She locked his eyes while she waited for his answer. For a moment she wavered. This was Ethan, for crying out loud! Her best friend, the man who knew her best. He was her person. Someone she couldn’t live without. And here she was, pushing him away.
Or maybe he’d pushed her away.
She blinked back the tears that prickled the back of her eyes. She couldn’t cry. Not now. When she was sad or hurting, Ethan was the one she ran to. But if he was the one making her cry, then who was there?
Hailey, she thought, suddenly longing to be back in Chicago, in that cramped Lincoln Park apartment, a pizza on the coffee table and a box of tissues at her side. What would Hailey have to say about this?
Fool, that’s what she’d say, or at least what she’d imply. And she’d be right. A man like Ethan . . .What had she been thinking?
“What are you, Claire?” Ethan repeated. “You know how much you mean to me.”
Claire’s shoulders began to ache from tension. She realized she was shaking. She nodded, but she didn’t even know what she was agreeing to anymore. She did know how much she meant to Ethan. She knew she was his closest friend. But was she more?
“I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you.” His jaw pulsed and Claire felt a wave of panic wash over her. “It’s me, Claire. I know it’s the oldest cliché out there, but it’s not you. It’s me. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. I don’t want to lose that.”
“Who said you’d lose it?” she asked, blinking fast.
“I messed up. I should have left things alone. I got caught up in this fake relationship.”
Of course. She should have known. “You got caught up.” She shook her head in disgust and turned to leave, but he grabbed her hand, pulling her back to him. She snatched it away, her eyes blazing. She didn’t want to hear anymore. He’d said all there was. He’d gotten caught up, and she was there, a convenient side dish to the weekend.
“I didn’t mean it that way. I meant, being with you, here, in Grey Harbor, pretending you were my girlfriend, holding your hand, even kissing you . . . it was nice, Claire. It made me feel things.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “It made me feel things too.”
“But look at us now. Look at what’s happening!” There was a pain in his eyes she didn’t think she’d ever seen before, and it startled her. “We never fight. We never hurt each other. One night together and everything is already unraveling.”
She couldn’t argue with him there. Sadness filled her when she thought of everything they’d lost. Years of friendship and laughter, hours of conversation . . .She didn’t see how it could ever be that way again. Every time she tried, she saw his mouth, that quirk of his smile, that look in his eyes right before he’d kissed her.
“I can’t lose you, Claire.” His eyes were pleading, but she didn’t care. Couldn’t care. Couldn’t give in. She couldn’t go back to being his friend, the girl at the bar who listened while he played back his latest dates, or sit back and watch him break another heart.
Because this time, he’d broken hers.
“Too late,” she said, and turned and ran before he could see her cry.
***
Claire had already put a call into a cab company by the time she got back to the cottage; chances were, the driver would know his way to the nearest bus terminal, and with any luck, she’d be able to slip away before anyone was back from the brunch.
She changed into something more casual for travel and quickly stuffed her suitcase, cursing under her breath at how much she’d brought as she wrestled with the zipper. Finally, she got it closed and did her best to awkwardly drag it out of the cottage, forcing herself to not look back, to not dwell on her time here, or how nice it had all seemed.
The main house was empty, but Claire felt a tug in her chest as she passed by it on her way to the driveway, wishing she could have had a chance to give Barbara a proper good-bye, even though there was no sense in holding on, or forging more of a connection. She’d probably never see any of these people again. The thought saddened her.
She was just coming around the stone path when she saw Amelia skip out the side door. Claire stilled as her mind began to race, wondering how she would explain this one, but Amelia just slid on her sunglasses and pressed a code to open the garage door.
“Looks like you’re headed out,” she remarked, as the carriage doors slid open. She gave Claire the once-over. “Ethan isn’t with you?”
“Oh, I . . .” Claire managed a shaky grin. “I need to get back early.” It was true. Very true. She needed to get back. To Chicago. To her life. To Hailey. To put distance between herself and this place and everything that had happened here.
Amelia jingled her keys. “Help me with my bags and I’ll give you a ride.”
“You’re going to Chicago?” Claire stared at Ethan’s sister in wonder.
“Time for a change,” Amelia said, grinning.
Claire felt her own smile relax as she helped Amelia load her bags into the car. Amelia made several trips into the house, the screen door banging loudly in her wake each time. Eventually they crammed it all in, somehow managing to fit Claire’s bag in the backseat.
“So . . .” Amelia said, as Claire slipped into the front passenger seat. The air in the car felt thick and stale and she cranked the window, eager for one last taste of the morning breeze. “You and Ethan have a fight?”
Claire shrugged. “Oh . . .”
“You can be straight with me, you know. I get it. I know that look. It’s in your eyes.” She clucked her tongue in disappointment as she put the car in reverse and began the slow pull from the driveway.
Claire watched sadly as the house grew smaller. A part of her wanted to get out, run, to talk to Ethan and make things right, but she didn’t know how anymore. Too much had changed.
“Ethan has a way of disappointing women,” Amelia said as they drove down the road into town. “But I thought you might be different. He was different with you.” She looked at her sharply. “You guys are friends. Good friends. Am I right?”
“How’d you know?” Claire asked in surprise.
Amelia raised an eyebrow. “For starters, you know him too well. Other women just see the good looks and outgoing personality. You saw through him. And, you practically blanched every time he touched you.” She paused. “But then you’d get this little smile on your face, like it was something new, something special. You like him, don’t you? As more than friends?”
No, she told herself firmly. The answer should be no, that Ethan was her
friend, that they could move past this, that she didn’t imagine him as anything more, didn’t want to be anything more than he already was.
But she just couldn’t say that.
Claire stared out the window at the trees whirring by. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Damn straight it matters!” Amelia slammed a palm on the steering wheel and Claire jumped. “It matters, Claire,” Amelia said again, her passion growing with the pink in her cheeks. “Life is short. I learned that when my father died. And love . . .well, if there isn’t love, then what is there? What’s the point?”
Claire gave a small smile. She and Amelia had more in common than Ethan probably wished to be true. “Sometimes being friends can be fulfilling enough.” And it had been. For nearly four years, it had been enough.
Ethan was right. They’d gone and messed up. Ruined it.
She stared back out the window miserably.
Amelia was quiet for a minute. Finally she flicked off the radio and said, “Did Ethan ever tell you the details of my broken heart?”
Claire slowly faced her, afraid to admit just how curious she was. “He just said that there was someone who you were struggling to get over.”
Amelia snorted. “You could say that again. I gave it my all. It didn’t work out. Some people might think I’m silly. Or even pathetic. They’ve tolerated me. But I had to see it through. I had to wait, see if he’d change his mind. He didn’t. And . . .he won’t. And I can sit around crying about it for another year, or can I pick myself up and find my own happy ending. Last night was inspiring, wasn’t it?”
Claire felt the urge to reach over and give the poor girl a hug. “It hurts, doesn’t it?”
Amelia shrugged, her eyes fixed on the road. “At least I know I tried. I held out hope. Nothing wrong with that, really. Not if you really loved someone.”
