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?