“It’s okay, Lila,” I said, sitting down. “I know you were just looking out for me.”
Lila and Blake sat down, and I asked her, “What made you change your mind?”
Lila shot a conspiratorial look at Blake, and then her gaze settled on me. “You did. I’ve been in touch with your mother. Every week I expected her to tell me: They ended it, she’s broken, she’s coming back. Yet all I heard about was a woman who was becoming more herself, happier, freer. You and Blake have done incredible things these past few months. You’ve gone sailing, caving—I mean, Claire, you’ve gone rock climbing and you’re afraid of heights. It’s incredible.”
I nodded, keeping my gaze lowered, though I couldn’t hold back the pleased smile on my face. I clasped Blake’s hand. “Yes. I’ve been really lucky.”
Lila turned to Blake, who was smiling too.
“And you, Blake, you’ve gotten a job, you guys have bought a house and a car. I mean, the two of you have done in six months what it takes most people six years to do. I would ask what your secret is, but I can see it right here for myself: You guys work together.”
I threw myself around Lila in a hug.
“Lila, I’m so glad. I’m so glad we can be friends again.”
She held me tight.
“I am too. And I’m really happy your life has taken off this way, that you listened to your gut instead of your self-righteous, stuck-up, paranoid friend.”
Breaking away, I smiled. “You mean my self-righteous, stuck-up, paranoid best friend.”
We laughed.
This time we shared our ribs and beef basket in peace, making pleasant conversation all the while. But still, amid this happy chatting and eating, something wasn’t right.
Blake and Lila were watching me when they thought I wasn’t looking, exchanging glances behind my back. I pretended I didn’t notice. And when I said good-bye to Lila, I felt a warm joy that was not quite ruined by the sick twist of foreboding in my chest.
As Blake drove us home, making periodic glances at me, the tension still in his eyes, I made a promise to myself. I was not going to let this go. I was going to find out what was going on, and I was going to do it soon.
When we got home I got a text from Mother: “Leaving Aspen tomorrow, have lunch with us today at Cache Cache.”
I showed the text to Blake, who gave a rueful smile, saying, “Second time’s the charm?”
“Yeah, maybe,” I said, studying his face.
I thought it was weird, Mother and Father coming here a few days for seemingly no reason, but it had been nice seeing them.
Blake just gave an awkward smile and hurried into the office, muttering something about “work stuff.”
I had a bad feeling about this.
It was funny: The exact same mousy waitress sat us at the exact same table by the window as last time. While my parents and Blake chatted, I gazed out Cache Cache’s window, at the same view of Aspen’s bustling city streets, and marveled at the last six months.
Six months. Who would’ve thought so many things could have changed in just six months? My divorce had gone through, Blake had a job as a mountain guide, and we had a nice big house down the road from downtown Aspen. We were ridiculously happy. God, I was so lucky.
“We were just telling Blake how happy we are for you with how things have gone,” Mom was telling me.
“And how wrong we were,” my father said with a chuckle. “Six months ago, when you two waltzed in here and told us what you meant to do, that you meant to be together come hell or high water, well, we thought you were crazy. Now, however”—he spread his arms—“I haven’t seen you smiling so big since you were five years old. The simple life is doing you good, and I think it’ll continue to do you good.”
He patted Blake on the shoulder. “This guy ain’t bad either.”
My mother nodded, taking my hand in her soft, thin fingers and squeezing it. “You picked a keeper this time, Claire. There’s no doubt about it.”
Blake was beaming at me, and he took my other hand and squeezed it. “I was telling them how we still check out my old cabin from time to time, how the view there is phenomenal. But I left the camera in the truck. Would you mind getting it?”
I nodded and scanned his face. There was still that line of tension on his forehead.
I paused. Would now be a bad time to ask to talk to him, to figure this all out once and for all? I glanced at my expectant parents and realized there was nothing I could say, not now. I hurried outside, and paused in front of our pickup truck. I fetched the camera fast enough, lifting the little black thing out of the backseat and carrying it inside, back to our table.