by Olivia Miles
“You know, last week I sold my ex-boyfriend an engagement ring. For another woman.” Claire met Amelia’s horror stricken eyes and burst out laughing. It was funny, she knew, she could see it now, just how ridiculous it was, how bizarre and even a little sensational. Amelia was laughing too, which made Claire just laugh harder. “Oh, that felt good,” she said, when she’d finally settled down.
“Sounds like you’re over him,” Amelia observed.
Claire hadn’t realized it properly, but strangely, yes, she was. So Matt was getting married; she really didn’t even care. Their time together felt so long ago, so different, like it wasn’t her present day self but someone else, walking around in a state of resigned bliss, not properly seeing things for what they were.
“Seems like you’re over your guy, too,” Claire said.
“Well, I can’t say that for sure,” Amelia gave her a wink. “But, I’m on my way, and that’s a start. I’m out of Grey Harbor, I’m moving forward. I’m ready for change. I want to do something really . . .me, if that makes sense.
Claire nodded. “It makes a lot of sense. Ethan suggested that I start my own shop. Do something with old wedding dresses, maybe vintage accessories.”
“I love that idea!” Amelia exclaimed. She shook her head, grinning widely. “Ethan always has good ideas. He sees the world so much more clearly than I do, I suppose.”
“That’s because he observes it from a distance,” Claire said, a little bitterly.
“True,” Amelia turned thoughtful. “But he still takes it all in, still takes it to heart. It’s just, you, me . . .we dive in with our heart. We can’t help it, and that’s who we are. But Ethan . . .He’s careful. Cautious. Maybe too much so for his own good, but that’s what it is really.”
Claire nodded, knowing it was true, but it didn’t exactly make her feel any better. Since when did Ethan feel the need to protect himself from her?
Since he’d taken the friendship to another level. Or maybe, since he’d started seeing her as more than just a friend.
The realization gave her little comfort. After all, it didn’t change a thing. Ethan was still Ethan, keeping love at arm’s length. While she . . .Well, she was holding out for more.
Amelia waited until they’d passed the town border to pull into a gas station and stop the car.
“Cigarette break?” Claire teased.
“Jeez, no. I left behind all my vices in Grey Harbor. Well, except for one. What’s a road trip without some junk food?”
Claire laughed and unbuckled her seatbelt. It may not be a cure all, but a little chocolate could go a long way for lifting a girl’s spirits.
And so, she thought, glancing at Amelia, could a new friend.
***
Ethan sat on an old iron bench under the shade of an overgrown lilac bush, debating whether or not he should go back to the boathouse yet, seek Claire out, or give her time. An hour had passed since she’d left, and he’d given up hope that she’d come back to the party. Luckily, his extended family’s interest in his love life had waned now that they were satisfied, and few people had noticed she wasn’t by his side for the rest of the brunch. Still, he was struggling to keep up the pretense that everything was fine, exhausted by the strain of pleasantries. He’d made a mess. A big one. And he didn’t know how to fix it.
“There you are.” Ethan turned at the sound of his mother’s voice and saw her coming down the stone path toward the bench where he sat. “If I didn’t know better, I might think you were hiding down here.”
Ethan’s smile felt grim. “That obvious?”
His mother sighed. “It can be exhausting, these long family weekends when everyone is in town. It would be nice if you came home during a quieter time, when there weren’t so many distractions.”
Ethan nodded. “That would be nice.” But somehow, the appeal of coming back to Grey Harbor felt less appealing than it had just a few hours ago. He’d tainted it. Again. Marred it with bad feelings and harsh memories.
“Did Claire go back to the house?” she asked.
Ethan swallowed. Claire was right. They shouldn’t have lied to his family, no matter the reason behind it. “Mom, there’s something you should know,” he said, pulling in a breath. “Claire . . .We’re just friends, you see. Good friends.”
“She’s the same Claire you’ve talked about for years,” his mother commented. She raised an eyebrow. “The name isn’t that common, Ethan. I did wonder . . .”
Ethan laughed softly. He hadn’t even considered, but of course he’d talked about Claire over the years. No wonder his mother had dared to think it had turned into something more.
“I let you think she was more than a friend so you wouldn’t worry, Mom.”
“I do worry,” his mother sighed. “And I have to say that the past few days I saw a change in you. You were happier than you’ve been in years.”
Ethan looked down at the moss-covered rocks beneath his feet. “I was.”
“And now?”
He shook his head. There was no point in stating the obvious. He wasn’t happy. In fact, he was downright miserable.
“You know, Ethan, I never said this to you before, but I think it’s time now. Don’t turn your back to love. Sometimes it doesn’t work out, and sometimes it’s taken from us. But it doesn’t mean it wasn’t worth it. Don’t shut out the one person you love because you’re afraid of what will happen if it doesn’t work out.”
“But that’s just the thing, Mom. I do know what will happen. Claire, that friendship . . .it means everything to me.” He dragged a hand down his face. And now that friendship is gone.
“Well, let me ask you this, then. If you could only ever be friends with Claire, would that be enough?”
Ethan frowned. “Yes. No. I don’t know anymore.”
His mother gave a slow smile. “Then I think that’s the answer. Believe in what you have, Ethan. And above all, follow your heart. You might lose her, but at least you’ll know you tried. Isn’t that better than never knowing?”
Ethan nodded, saying nothing. His mother was right. She was always right. But one thing was certain. He couldn’t lose Claire. Not as a friend. And not, he knew, as something more.
Chapter Twelve
Ethan stood in his silent apartment and stared at his entrance table, his suitcases still at his feet. He knew he should have discarded that answering machine years ago. That, and the habits that went with it. He pressed the flashing button, listening to the voice on the other end confirming their date for tonight. Of course, he thought, cursing under his breath. Another date. He’d set this one up over a week ago with a waitress he met at the gastropub he’d visited again under the pretense of research for his article. He’d struck up a conversation, asked a few questions, and by the end of the night he’d handed her his landline number—he’d learned long ago what happened when he gave out the cellular information—and said something about Sunday. This Sunday. An hour from now, to be exact.
At the time he’d thought it would be a nice distraction from an otherwise tense weekend. A way to immerse himself into his present circumstances and escape the ghosts of the past. And maybe it would be, if the thought of being with a woman other than Claire didn’t make him feel agitated and uneasy.
He picked up the phone, and dialed the number back, cringing at the thought of letting the girl down but knowing it was inevitable and, really, better this way. She didn’t answer, and he left a message, kind but firm, apologizing for making plans and explaining that he wasn’t dating at this time. It was the right thing to do. The fair thing to do.
It was something he should have done a long time ago.
Ethan left his bags in the hall and walked around his empty apartment, the rooms he had chosen not to fill, the walls he had kept high for all but one person. There were no pictures, no frames, no memories here. He’d been careful about that. Except now there was a sense of loss. Of the one person he’d let in, and the one girl he’d shut out.
&
nbsp; Claire. He’d been so careful, so determined to preserve what they had, to keep it meaningful, to make it last, and now he’d gone and done the one thing he’d feared the most.
She’d written a note, something about taking a bus back to Chicago. By his estimation she’d be back in town by now. He didn’t know if she’d talk to him, and he didn’t know what he would say if she ever gave him the chance. Half of him wanted to hail the next cab, knock on her door, tell her he was sorry, and so much more . . .
But it was late. And tonight wasn’t a night for impulsive action or shallow escape. For once, he would sit in his apartment, allow himself to think about his past, and maybe even, for once, his future.
No dates. No parties. No more vain attempts to fill the empty part of himself with temporary solutions. It was time to make a change.
***
Claire faced the back of the nubby brown couch and did her best to block the morning sun with her hand, mentally playing Hailey’s morning routine, knowing it would only be a matter of minutes, if not less, before the bedroom doorknob turned and her cousin appeared. And then . . .Claire’s stomach knotted. Then she’d have to tell her the truth.
The whole truth. There was no way she could hide what had happened over the weekend from Hailey. As much as she wanted to forget any of it had ever happened, it was no use.
She’d planned to blurt it all out last night. Hoped to, really, but Hailey had been out with Lila and Mary for an impromptu Sunday night dinner when she’d arrived home, and she was so worn out, she’d fallen asleep waiting for her. When those three said dinner, they usually meant chatting until the restaurant dimmed its light and turned the sign on the door.
She should have joined them, she thought now. But she wasn’t ready to share anything last night. And oh, there would have been questions.
She sat up, wincing at the pain that shot through her lower back, and let out a small whimper of self-pity that she had to sleep on this pull-out, and that it was all her own damn fault. Still, it was motivation, and she was more driven than ever to get things back on track. It would feel so good to have her own space again, a fresh start, and a new outlook. Ethan was right about one thing: a project would keep her busy, take her mind off the heartache. He just hadn’t known that when he’d suggested it, the person she’d be trying to put from her mind was him.
Claire blinked away the tears that threatened to spill every time she thought of how empty life already felt. A day had passed without a phone call. They never went so long without talking. The doorknob turned, and Claire’s attention was immediately pulled back to the present as Hailey burst into the living room, smiling ear to ear. “Welcome home!”
Home. Yes, that’s where she was, but to hear her cousin phrase it that way made her sit up in surprise.
“Coffee?” Hailey was already halfway to the kitchen.
“As if you needed to ask,” Claire replied, climbing out of the makeshift bed to fold the mattress back into the sofa frame. It was still early; there was time for this conversation before Hailey left for the café. She had no excuse.
“How was the trip?” Hailey asked as she poured beans into the grinder. Claire didn’t dare confess to her cousin that she sort of preferred the instant stuff. It was quick, and it did the job. But Hailey took her coffee very seriously. Only ordered certain beans. Ground them herself. She could only imagine her cousin’s reaction if she knew Claire couldn’t really taste much difference for all that trouble . . .
“Oh, fine. Fine. Not much to tell.” Claire managed a smile, but it felt forced.
Sure enough, Hailey looked at her sharply. “Fine? Just fine?” She stopped grinding the beans. “What happened?”
“Nothing. Really. It was just a wedding. Low key. Home now . . .” Claire inspected a fingernail. The nail polish she’d applied the morning she’d left for the trip was already chipping.
“If nothing happened, then why won’t you look me in the eyes? And why’d you ignore every one of my calls, too?” Hailey started and then, with a pop of her eyes, held a finger in the air and all but screamed, “You slept with him!”
Claire was frantically biting her nail by now, and she couldn’t even deny the truth. It was no use. Hailey knew her too well.
“I am going to finish making this coffee, and then you and I are going to sit. And chat. And you, my dear, are going to tell me everything.”
“Don’t you have to go to work?” Claire asked hopefully.
“Summer staff,” Hailey explained. “I love seasonal help. I don’t need to be there until noon today. And you have some time before work, right? Now go. Sit.”
It was an order, and Claire slumped her shoulders and marched back into the living room, where she dropped down onto the couch and waited for the coffee to finish, the minutes ticking by as the smell of roasted beans filled the air.
Finally, Hailey appeared through the doorway with a tray, her mouth set in a determined line, her stride purposeful and quick.
“So,” she said, after she had deposited the tray on the coffee table and distractedly sloshed some cream into her mug. She eyed Claire carefully. “You and Ethan slept together. No surprise, of course.”
“No surprise?” Claire choked on her coffee. When she’d finished coughing, she set down her mug and gave her cousin a long look. “What does that mean?”
Hailey curled up into the air chair, tucking her feet under her as she clutched her oversized mug bearing the little “H.” “Come on, Claire. You can’t tell me you’re surprised either. You and Ethan have been dancing around this for years.”
“We have not!” Claire protested, but she blinked, trying to process this accusation. Had they?
Hailey just tipped her chin and gave her a long look. Okay, so maybe they had.
“Ethan’s hot. Like, really hot. And before you go arguing with me, can we just agree that this is an indisputable fact?” Hailey sipped her coffee.
Claire felt like she could suddenly cry again as his handsome image swam to the forefront of her mind. If she closed her eyes, she could picture his face, so close to hers, just before he kissed her. See the wide grin on his face as he chased her up the stairs to his bedroom. The anguish in his eyes the last time they’d spoke.
“Wow.” Hailey set her mug down, giving Claire her full attention. “You’ve got it bad. You like him. You . . .love him!”
“Well, of course I love him,” Claire said hastily. “He’s my best friend. He’s like the male version of you.”
Hailey laughed. “Nice try, but no. I’m your cousin. And Ethan . . .Well, Ethan is his own special beast.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Claire said. “He can’t commit.”
“Just because he hasn’t before doesn’t mean he can’t now.”
Claire shook her head adamantly, hating the thread of hope she heard in that statement. “No. He has committed. To someone else. And I don’t think he ever got over her. I’m just his friend. That’s all it could ever be.”
His friend, and the rebound girl, she thought bitterly.
“Maybe so, but what you and Ethan have is special. Are you really telling me you can’t still be friends?”
Claire looked blearily out the window onto the tree-lined street. “I don’t see how. That’s the worst part of it, honestly.”
“Oh, honey.” Hailey came over and settled herself on the couch. “You know one good thing came from this, though, right? At least you’re over Matt.”
Despite herself, Claire laughed, but then all at once burst into tears. She’d thought losing Matt was hard, but Ethan . . . it was so much worse. There was so much there. So much more to lose.
“Speaking of Matt . . .” Claire dragged out a long sigh. She couldn’t keep up the pretense anymore.
The doorbell rang, interrupting her well-rehearsed speech, and Hailey’s quizzical expression matched her own. Claire checked her watch. It wasn’t even eight. Who could be here at this hour?
Her heart thudded. Ethan.
Claire smoothed her hair and walked slowly to the door, her chest pounding as she considered what there even was to say.
She took the stairs slowly, stopping only once to clutch the banister and collect herself, reminding herself that this was Ethan. Her best friend. But somehow he wasn’t anymore. In less than a day he’d morphed from being her source of comfort and happiness into someone who had the potential to play with her emotions and break her heart.
The realization that this could be their last conversation cut her deep, but as much as she wanted to avoid him, close her ears to the words he might say, another part of her was hopping with excitement at the prospect of seeing him again. It was always that way. She never tired of him.
She groaned to herself. Why hadn’t she seen it before? She’d been in love with Ethan for years. She just hadn’t stopped to admit it before.
She wrapped her hand around the doorknob, counted to three, and opened it.
“Amelia!” Claire blinked at Ethan’s sister, feeling her confusion grow. She skirted her eyes down the street, but there was no one else around aside from an elderly woman with a penchant for sweeping the sidewalk outside her brownstone. “What are you doing here? Did you lose something? Did I accidentally take something from the car when I got my luggage?”
For one hopeful moment she thought maybe Ethan had sent her, that she was here to try to lure Claire down to the West Loop, host an intervention of sorts that would make everything right, or maybe everything the way it used to be. If such a thing were possible.
“I was thinking about what you said last night in the car. About that vintage bridal shop.” Amelia slurped coffee from the plastic lid of her paper cup. Her eyes were hidden behind sunglasses. In her cut-off shorts and tank top, she looked younger somehow, even though she was older than Claire by five years. Refreshed, Claire thought. Amelia was a new woman. Overnight, she had been transformed.
