by Alexa Ross
Over the table, I patted Blake’s arm. “It’s only thanks to Blake that I escaped at all.”
Lila’s gaze flicked to my hand and then back to me. “That’s the most insane thing I ever heard,” she murmured. Then she grinned. “So you’re saying he’s gone for good then?”
I nodded, and she threw herself onto me in another hug.
“Oh, Claire! I’m so glad. I always knew he was absolute scum. Not to mention that you need time by yourself to really blossom, you know, to see your full potential without being so concentrated on another person.”
She said each sentence with a furious bobbing of her head, sending her ruby curls flying in their own determined assuredness.
Blake and I exchanged a look.
“Lila,” I said slowly, pulling out of the hug, “about that…”
“Hey there. What can I get everyone to drink?” our blond waitress asked at just the wrong time.
“Water for everyone, I think,” I said. Then, turning to Lila, “Now, about Blake—”
“I’m ready to order!” Lila declared.
I gaped at her and she shrugged.
“I came early and had aaaages to look at the menu. You still like ribs, right? We’ll split ’em like we always do. One half rack of ribs and smoked beef please.”
“But, Lila, Blake hasn’t had time to—”
“I’ll have ribs and smoked beef too,” Blake said with a shrug.
“Great,” our waitress said with an even bigger smile. “You both want fries with that?”
“Yes,” chorused Lila and Blake.
“Great. Two ribs and fries coming right up!”
Then she was gone and we were back, knee-deep, in prickly tension.
“So, Lila,” I said, “about Blake—”
“Don’t worry about your place with Angelo,” Lila said. “He left right after you did, and I called the landlord and explained the situation. He agreed to let me check in. All your stuff is okay, Claire. You’re good to come back—even today if you want to!”
Her smile hung there, red and large, urging me to join it. All I could muster was a pale smile in return. I had to tell her, and I had to do it now.
“Lila,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, “you know I haven’t been happy these past few years.”
This sent Lila into another flurry of vociferous nods and exclamations. “Of course you haven’t been happy! Who would have been happy with a lying, evil, vile murderer of a husband? Who?”
I nodded and tried to take a measured tone. “That’s true, but it’s not just that. I’ve never worked; I’ve never left New Jersey. I hardly even know who I am.”
Again, a series of nods and exclamations. “Boy am I glad to finally hear you say all that. This is what I’ve been getting at for years! You need time by yourself, time to explore, to live! Let’s go to Costa Rica!”
“Lila,” I said gently, “I like it here.”
Her smile inverted, contorted into a scowl.
“You like it here?” she asked. Then, jabbing her orange-nailed thumb at Blake, she said, “Or you like him?”
“Both,” I said. “I like the nature, the calm of the trees and the open air, the stars—Lila, you have to see the stars here. I like being unplugged, not oozing away my life in front of the television, watching TV shows where other people live their lives.
“And yes, Lila,” I said, grasping Blake’s hand, “I like Blake too.”
Lila’s face was a full-on snarl, but I continued. “I like his quiet, considerate manner. I like how he enjoys the same things I do. I like how he looks at me when he thinks I’m not looking, how he strokes my hair. I like his sense of humor and his sense of adventure, how he doesn’t seem afraid of anything. He’s been there for me, Lila, through all of this.”
Already she was shaking her head. “You barely know him. You’ve jumped from one bad relationship into another.”
I shook my own head. “You don’t know that.”
She shrugged. “Maybe not, but I do know that you should have time to process your emotions, to find even ground, to figure out what really happened with Angelo, to make sure you aren’t just making the same mistakes again.”
I let go of Blake’s hand. Lila was right, but she was wrong too.
“Everything you said, I’ve thought of, Lila. But I’ve been processing it while I’ve been here. Being out in nature with the quiet and the slower pace, I’ve had time to really come to terms with what happened and the role I played in it. It’s not just Blake who’s different; I’m different too. I’m not making the same mistakes because I’m not the same person anymore.”
Lila was still shaking her head.
“Everything you’re saying sounds great. On paper, Claire. Just how Angelo sounded great on paper. You’re already in too deep. You’ve gone so far into this whirlwind of a new thing that you can’t see what everyone else is seeing—what even your parents are seeing.”
It was my turn to glare at her. “You spoke to my parents?”
Lila waved her hand in a dismissive figure eight. “I didn’t believe your mom when she told me. I told her no. No way would Claire get into another relationship just as her marriage was disintegrating. She knew better than that.”
She directed a disdainful look at me as our waitress put down several waters and scurried off.
I took mine, drank, and then said, “Lila, I appreciate your concern, but you have to trust me. I know what I’m doing this time. Blake is a good man, and I know it’s right this time, because it feels right. Because last time it felt wrong. I denied it, but it did. It felt wrong. Now I know the difference.”
My words washed over Lila as easily and uselessly as the water she was drinking slipped down her throat.
Still shaking her head, she said, “No. No, Claire. I won’t have it. You can’t stay here with this man you barely know, who’s much older and doesn’t have a job and doesn’t have much to his credit at all other than he helped you avoid being killed by your last mistake of a husband.”
“Lila…”
“Can I say something?” Blake said.
“No,” Lila said easily. Then, in a loud voice, she said, “I don’t want to hear anything you have to say. You’ve preyed on my friend when she’s vulnerable. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
The whole restaurant was now quiet, and several heads were turned in our direction. I resisted the urge to beeline for the bathroom.
“Well too bad,” Blake said in an even louder voice, “because I’m going to have my say whether you like it or not.” He rose and faced Lila.
“What happened between Claire and me has been nothing short of a miracle. I didn’t plan it; she didn’t plan it. It happened—because it was supposed to. I tried avoiding my feelings, tried dismissing them, ignoring them, but it happened. And ever since, my life has been unrecognizable in the best way. This woman—this fantastic, one-of-a-kind, miracle of a woman—I don’t have words for how she makes me feel. I don’t understand it. I was happy before, content. But the crazy kind of happiness I feel with her, I can’t explain, because I’ve never felt it before. She’s my best friend and my greatest love, and you can try to take her away from me, Lila, but I will follow you. I will follow you back to New Jersey, to anywhere you take her. I will follow you until you call the police and Claire herself has me thrown in jail. Because this woman is worth fighting for, and if I lose her I know I will regret it for as long as I live. I may not be America’s most eligible bachelor right now, I may just be a man with a cabin and some hunting skills, but let me tell you, I have a love like no other. That love will drive me to do whatever it takes to make Claire happy—go wherever she wants, be whoever she wants me to be—because I know that if she’s happy, I’ll be happy.”
Blake sat down.
“So you’re right. I don’t have much; I’m not a good prospect. And if Claire wants me to leave her alone, I will. But until that point, until she tells me herself, until she looks me in the eye and
says ‘I don’t love you’ and means it, I won’t leave. I won’t stop fighting for her. And I’m not sorry, because I would be much less of a man than I am now if I gave up on the greatest thing that has ever happened to me.”
The silence after Blake’s speech was complete. I’d never heard a silence such as this, where every being, where even every thought itself, was frozen.
Then, finally, a chubby man at the next table started clapping, then the rest of the table, and soon the whole restaurant, wait staff included, was impossibly, incredibly, clapping for us.
I grabbed Blake’s hand and mouthed “I love you” to him. I wanted to kiss him on the spot. Lila, however, looked like Blake had just spat in her drink.
Next thing we knew, our waitress was delivering our food: one rib and beef basket in front of Blake, one between Lila and me.
“Is that everything?” she asked.
Blake and I glanced at Lila, who said nothing.
“Yes. Thank you,” I said, and our waitress left.
Blake and I dug in. I wolfed down the delicious ribs so eagerly that it took me a minute to notice Lila was not eating.
“Lila?” I asked, but she shook her head.
“Not hungry.”
“Lila, please,” I said, sliding the basket over to her. She shoved it back.
“I’m not taking one bite until he leaves. What he said changes nothing. You should have time by yourself to think this over.”
“Could we compromise then?” I asked. “Maybe a visit back home?”
Lila gulped down more of her drink and the slammed it on the table.
“I’m talking months. Not days, not weeks—months. Half a year at least, without him. Trauma like this, all that’s happened, it’ll take a while to process.”
Blake had stopped eating and was glaring at Lila.
I paused. “Can I go to the bathroom?”
No one answered, so I went. I was doing it for myself anyway. I needed to think.
Lila seemed so sure, and yet…this feeling I had was sure too. I was making the right choice; I knew it.
I stood in the stall, reading the graffiti, trying to figure out what I was going to do. Was there any way to get around this, to please both of them? Could Lila have been right?
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I stopped thinking for a moment. Inhaled, then exhaled. Closed my eyes. Opened them. Smiled.
Now I knew.
Yes, Lila could have been right, but she wasn’t, not this time. I didn’t need years in therapy and hours of book-reading to heal myself and avoid future mistakes; I just needed an awareness of how I was feeling. I just needed to tap into the knowledge that was already inside me, trust my instincts—which were telling me that this was right.
It was. It was right. Blake was a good man who cared about me and was dedicated to me. Lila meant well, but she wasn’t right this time.
I strode out of there, my head held high. I didn’t sit down. Lila and Blake were still glaring at each other. Lila still hadn’t touched her food.
“Lila,” I said, “I’m sorry.”
She rose. “You’re making a terrible mistake, and I wouldn’t be a true friend to you if I sat here and let you make it. No, I won’t let you do this, Claire.”
I stepped toward her. “Please, Lila. Don’t do this. Please.”
But she was already slinging her purple paisley bag onto her shoulder, shaking her head.
“When this falls apart in a few months, I don’t know if I’ll still be there for you, Claire. It’s just too painful seeing you ruin your life like this for a man again.”
Then she was gone, leaving with her fuzzy plum scarf trailing down her back like a sad caterpillar.
I turned to Blake. He took my hand.
“I don’t want you ever to doubt me, Claire—not ever. No matter what comes, this divorce with Angelo, your family and friends disapproving of us, carving out a life for ourselves here—I don’t care. I’ll do it. I’ll stick by you.”
We embraced and then returned to our seats, eating our ribs while shyly smiling at each other. As I looked at the chiseled, handsome face across from me, I wished we were in the cabin. I longed to kiss him, to kiss every inch of him, feel every bit of him.
I loved this man, and he was a good man.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Six Months Later
When David, my lawyer, said it, I practically passed out on the spot. Even the second time he said it—“Congratulations, Claire. Your divorce with Angelo has gone through”—I couldn’t respond. I was too happy, too overwhelmed by the ecstatic thrill that was buzzing through my whole body. Could it be? Could I really be free of that monster?
Blake’s soft touch brought me back to reality. His hand on my shoulder, he said, “Claire, you’re free now.”
I thanked David and watched him leave the office room in a daze. As Blake hugged me, I repeated the words to myself: six months. Six months of fighting, and now it had finally come to an end. I was free of him.
“Are you okay?” Blake asked. He pulled out a chair that I flopped into.
I could only smile dumbly back at him. I was afraid if I started talking, I wouldn’t be able to stop; I’d blab on and on, about how I felt so light I could float through the ceiling right now, about how I wanted to kiss Blake and hug him and run with him, run through this old office building singing.
Blake pulled up a chair and sat across from me. “I planned to take you out for dinner afterward, but if you’re too tired…”
At the mention of food, I roused myself. “Not at all.” I clasped his hand and smiled. “I’m just so shocked and happy and… Just give me a minute, will you?”
Blake nodded. “Do you want me to go?”
I smiled shyly at him. “Yeah. Just for a minute, could you?”
He did, with an understanding nod and a supportive smile.
“I’ll be just down the hall if you need me.”
The door shut behind him, and I stared at it. What was the point of that? Why did I need to be alone? My legs answered me immediately. I leaped up and skipped around the room. Not light, dainty skips either, but big, knee-bobbing, upward thrusts of my legs that sent me careening around the room, around and around the tidy rosewood table in the middle. Next thing I knew, I was on the table, dancing to some unheard beat, whooping with an abandon I hadn’t known I’d had in me.
A few seconds later, there was a sharp knock on the door.
Blake’s voice come through the hard wood: “You all right in there?”
“Yeah. I… You can come in.”
“Just wanted to be sure you’re okay. I heard voices and…” Blake’s voice died away when he saw me.
“Claire?” he asked.
Still standing on the table, looking down at him, I smiled guiltily.
“What are you doing up there?” he asked.
I couldn’t hold back my delighted grin any longer.
“Dancing,” I said.
He cocked his head at me, his own smile growing. Then, with a half shrug to himself, he got up on the table with me.
Clasping my hands, he began to dance. We moved back and forth and around. Blake spun me and dipped me. I laughed and he grinned.
“I wasn’t always a shut-in, you know,” he explained.
Then he took me in his arms and kissed me. He picked me up and carried me out of there, out of the office building, past the shocked lawyers and puzzled clients, to all of whom he explained: “She won her divorce.”
Our laughter was better than any response they could have given.
Blake carried me all the way to our green Ford pickup and put me in the passenger’s seat.
“The restaurant I’m taking you to is a congratulations present,” he said as he started the car.
The drive there was the 91.5 Rock O’Clock radio station, with some air guitar and steering wheel percussion by Blake. The walk up to the restaurant was anticipation; Blake wouldn’t tell me which one it was; all he’d divulge w
as that “it’s a new restaurant with a cool new concept.”
By the time we got there, I’d asked if it was just about every newish restaurant and cool concept I could think of, all of my guesses failing. Nothing, however, prepared me for what I found when I stepped inside the sleek, triangle-shaped restaurant called Noir.
