“I’d wager he was pretty busy raising you and your sisters,” Richard said. “With your mom leaving like she did.”
Claire swallowed carefully. “He was. Not many people know details of our background, though. He kept our life very private for that reason.”
I increased the pressure of my fingers on her shoulder, just letting her know I was there.
I knew a little bit of what the Ward sisters had been through from Finn, but it sounded like Richard knew even more. Logan practically raised them, and his brother—Claire’s other half brother—wasn’t really in their lives much because he and Logan didn’t get along. But the reasons, well, they’d never interested me much.
Until now.
Richard’s tone was sympathetic, but I still gave him careful study at the fact he knew about it in the first place. He must have seen something in my eyes because he held up his hands and smiled. “Sorry, didn’t know I was stepping into anything I shouldn’t. I thought it was common knowledge, if one cared to dig deep enough.”
“It’s not,” I told him quietly. “And not everyone enjoys talking about the things in their childhood that sucked.”
Claire exhaled slowly and gave me a small smile.
“It’s okay, Bauer,” she said. “And there’s no reason to apologize, Richard. If someone dug enough, they’d know that Brooke decided being a mother wasn’t what she wanted to do. My sisters and I were fortunate to have someone like Logan who loved us enough to be exactly what we needed. But not all kids have that. And I think it’s admirable for people like Adele and Robert to try to help children who don’t have another family member to do what my brother did.”
Richard relaxed back into his seat. “And I’m guessing that influenced your educational choices.”
She nodded. “It did.”
“What do you hope to do someday?”
Adele gave me a look that I couldn’t decipher. Claire shifted uncomfortably in her chair.
Right. Lia Ward was not a developmental psychology major, and the further he got to Claire as her sister, the more tangled the knot might become.
“She’s going to save hopeless wretches like you and me, Richard,” I said, easing a hand up Claire’s back.
He smiled, as intended, spreading his arms wide. A king showing off his kingdom. “Do I need saving?”
“Maybe from your decorating skills, but that’s about it,” I told him.
Adele sucked in a breath, and Claire rolled her lips between her teeth.
After a beat of silence, Richard’s booming laughter echoed off the cathedral ceiling.
And thankfully, that broke the mood while we wrapped up dinner.
Everything stayed fairly surface level with small talk about Seattle and Vancouver as we moved to the family room and the roaring fire. As Richard regaled Adele and my father with tales of his outlandish, over-the-top life, I stared out the windows. Outside the wall of glass, you could practically see the cold front move in.
The water took on an eerie stillness when the air went frigid. Sitting next to Claire on a puffy, horrible loveseat, I kept my arm across the back of the furniture and tried to block out everything except the view out the window and the woman next to me. Her legs were curled up into her chest, so we weren’t touching, but almost.
Almost.
I never should have concocted my little tale about our first kiss. All I could imagine now was a dark kitchen, Claire tugging me down with fists clenched in my shirt, pushing my back against a fridge door and having her way with me.
Because of that fantasy running through my head, this almost was killing me.
Everywhere, we were almost touching. Her hair, again, was just beyond my hands. Her shoulder blades were less than an inch from my forearm. Her hip was close enough to mine that I could feel the heat of her body. And it was torture. For two hours, we sat there, each of us occasionally entering the conversation that flowed easily between my parents and Richard.
For all intents and purposes, we were as useful as all the gaudy decoration that Richard had up on the walls, but he wanted us there, nonetheless.
When the sun was fully set, and the skies dark, Claire yawned behind her hand.
“Ready to head upstairs?” I asked, leaning my head toward hers.
She nodded, turning toward me to meet my eyes, not realizing I’d moved. Her breath caught when my thumb moved to brush a stray piece of hair off her cheekbone.
“You have freckles,” I whispered, quietly enough that no one could hear us.
Her nod was jerky, but she didn’t pull back. “J-just when I get some sun.”
I hummed. “I like it.”
Richard cleared his throat, and his intrusion felt harsh and unwelcome in that little space I was occupying with Claire. “Well,” he said knowingly. “I think it’s time to wrap up the evening.”
Adele stood, giving me a warning look. “Yes, it looks like it.”
Claire got off the loveseat before I did because I had to take ten seconds to recite the Pledge of Allegiance in my head before standing or else I risked embarrassing myself.
“Good night, everyone,” Claire said.
I followed her up the stairs and down the hall.
Neither of us said a word.
The walk to our bedroom was tense, and I imagined all sorts of scenarios as soon as we were behind closed doors.
Her, yanking me against her soft, warm body and asking me to kiss her.
Me, digging my hands underneath the cotton of her shirt and finding out if her lips were as soft as I’d imagined, if her tongue was sweet and cool.
She pushed open the door, and I sucked in a breath, closing it quietly and then resting my back against it while she marched straight for her backpack, pulled out some pajamas, and without a single glance in my direction, walked into the bathroom.
My entire being deflated.
Yeah.
Everything.
“Of course,” I whispered. “What did you think would happen?”
By the time she came out of the bathroom, clad in another set of cotton shorts, and a well-loved T-shirt, I was sprawled on that stupid couch and staring up at the ceiling.
Of the two of us, I knew who was being smart, and as usual, it wasn’t me.
She could probably sense my aversion to any sort of serious relationship. I wasn’t kidding in the car. I’d had one attempt, and it ended with me feeling like a chump. It was easier with no strings. No repeat faces or expectations. That way, I didn’t even have to worry about a messy fallout, whether caused by me or someone else.
Claire quietly climbed into her too-big bed, and I heard her sigh. “That wasn’t so bad.”
I smiled at her tentatively spoken words.
“No, not too bad.”
“Are …” She paused. “Is the couch terribly uncomfortable?”
It was worse than uncomfortable.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.