Twenty-One
Theo
* * *
Yale?
Fucking Yale?
Panic had been rising in me like helium fills a balloon, and the word Yale popped it wide open.
Suddenly I couldn’t remember why I was there or what I was doing or how I was going to get out—but I knew that I had to.
From the moment Claire’s mother had walked in, I’d felt on edge. I didn’t do mothers. What mother wants her daughter dating someone like me?
An entrepreneur? Fuck me!
And her dad was a judge. A goddamn judge. In my experience, judges weren’t particularly fond of people who’d committed a felony, even if it was almost ten years ago and I’d ostensibly served my time. That was such bullshit. I might have spent only one year in a cell, but those fucking bars followed me everywhere and they always would. People would continue to judge me for that mistake for the rest of my life. I’d never be free of my past—never. Not to mention insurance fraud and money laundering. My present wasn’t too shiny either.
“Fuck!” I banged a hand on the steering wheel as I sped away from Claire’s house.
Why couldn’t Claire have just said we were friends, like she’d said to me at breakfast? I was fine with being friends. If she hadn’t confirmed her mother’s belief that we were dating, I might not have bailed so fast. But I didn’t date anymore. Ever.
Dating meant a relationship. A relationship meant you had to be honest with someone. You had to let them in. You owed them the truth. You owed them time. You owed them trust.
I couldn’t do it.
So then why the hell did you go there last night?
I squirmed in my seat. I didn’t want to answer that question. I just wanted to go home and forget about this.
Forget about her.
Twenty-Two
Claire
* * *
The morning of Christmas Eve, I met Jaime and Margot for coffee.
“How’s Jack holding up staying at your parents’ house?” Jaime asked Margot.
She smiled. “He’s OK. Muffy keeps asking him questions about the layout of her garden, even though I told her he’s a farmer, not a landscaper. In her mind, dirt is dirt.”
Jaime laughed. “At least she’s trying.”
“She is. And Jack’s a good sport about it.” Margot tucked her blond hair behind her ears. “He was more put out by the custom suit fitting.”
“I bet. But at least he agreed to wear it.”
Margot sighed. “I think he’ll be very glad when the wedding is over. He is not enjoying the planning that much. Sometimes I feel like he’s dreading the whole thing.”
“Because he’s a guy,” Jaime said, rolling her eyes. “And he’s not social, so he’s probably nervous about being the center of attention that day. Just tell him all eyes will be on you.”
She laughed. “He says that all the time when he’s trying to get out of wearing the fancy suit and shoes.”
“He’ll be fine. Everything coming together like it should?”
“Yes, although I’ve redone the seating chart a thousand times. It’s amazing how many people aren’t speaking to each other in that crowd.” Margot sipped her coffee and gave me a funny look. “Claire, is everything OK?”
“Yeah,” I sighed. “I’m just tired.” That was true—I’d hardly slept last night.
“How did it go with the rent-a-date the other night?”
“It went fine. Better than fine, actually.”
“Turns out, they were very compatible,” said Jaime, her lips twitching.
Margot’s brows arched. “Oh?”
“Yes. We had a good time that night.” I paused. “And the next night.”
Jaime almost spit out her coffee. “The next night! You didn’t tell me about that.”
“I haven’t really had a chance.” I shook my head, staring into the foam on my latte. “It was the craziest thing. On Friday night, he made it very clear that we were a one-night-only thing, even though we’d had an amazing time. Then Saturday night, he shows up at my house and says ‘I need you.’”
“What?” Jaime set her cup on the saucer with a clank. “That is crazy.”
“But really sweet,” said Margot.
“It was. And he said he didn’t know where this could go, and I said I was OK with that, and we had another great night. Then yesterday, he offered to take me shopping for tiles and to look at options for counters. Apparently he used to work for this stoneworks place. And he also has his own carpentry business.”
“Does he have a last name now?” Jaime’s eyes were wide.
I almost smiled. “MacLeod.”
Margot pursed her lips. “Hmm. Doesn’t ring a bell. Is his family from around here?”
“I don’t think you’d know his family. He was raised by his grandmother, but she’s gone now. A brother lives somewhere close, and he has a wife and three kids.” I kept the rest of the details about his family to myself—Theo had trusted me with them, and I wouldn’t feel right disclosing them, even to my friends.
“Tile shopping, huh?” Margot’s eyes sparkled over the rim of her cup. “How romantic.”
“You know what? Somehow it was.” I tilted my head. “Well, it was and it wasn’t. We didn’t hold hands or kiss or anything, but I love that he wanted to help me. He even stained the kitchen cabinets Saturday night and hung them back up yesterday.”