“She’s on scholarship. But I want the money so I can give Sophia more. I never feel like I can give her enough. What she really deserves.”
I tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, scared she’ll swat my hand away any moment. But she doesn’t flinch, doesn’t pull away. And in that choice, I know she doesn’t hate me. Our words may have been ugly, but neither of us is ready to give up without another fight.
“You don’t think what you give her is enough?” I ask.
“Not even a little.”
“What if it is?”
“If what is?”
“What if you being her mother is enough?”
Claire sighs and takes back her phone, using her fingers to zoom in on her daughter’s face.
“I think that Sophia deserves more than a room in her grandma’s house, sharing a bed with her mother,” Claire says, staring at her daughter. “I think Sophia deserves a yard and a dog and a mom who isn’t always running around from work to school to dishes to laundry. She deserves a mom who’s better than me.”
“What if you’re missing the point, Claire?” I ask, my voice tender, because it’s so clear she’s hurting. She’s putting things on herself no one is asking her to.
She drops the phone on the sheets. “You’re going to give me advice on how to be a parent?”
“I’m not giving advice on bloody parenting, Claire. I’m giving advice on being a person.”
“Right, because you have life so well figured out.”
I don’t answer, because her words keep hitting me hard in the chest, knocking the wind from me.
I wrap my arms around her anyway, and we fall asleep, neither of us wanting to let go, even though we have no bloody clue what it means to stay.
The next morning we sleep late, the time zone differences hitting us hard–but also, the night was so heavy. I don’t think either of us wants to wake up and face one another ... or remember the words we said.
“Is someone knocking on the door?” Claire asks, her outstretched hand hitting my face.
“Fuck, yes. What the hell?” I moan. Looking at the clock, I’m shocked at the time. “It’s eleven in the morning, Claire.”
“No way. I’m always up before six.”
“Not today you’re not.” I stand from the bed to answer the incessant rapping.
“Tell them to leave unless they have coffee. Tea isn’t gonna cut it today.”
I pull open the door and my eyes grow wide, remembering my phone call.
“Um. Claire,” I say.
“What?” She peers through the heavy curtained bedposts. “Holy shit.”
“You didn’t tell her we were coming?” Emmy asks, smacking me in the chest before walking in the room, Tess and Ace in tow.
Chapter Twenty
Claire
I can’t believe he called them without telling me. What the hell?
Last night Landon and I had a fight that could be more aptly described as a mind-fuck.
Am I ridiculously in love with him or just completely cracked out because I’m staying with him at a castle in my dream destination a million miles from my responsibilities?
Obviously, I think it’s the latter ... but what really scares me is the idea of it being the former.
Of me actually being this spun out of my mind because I love this man.
I don’t want it to be true, because it’s easier to pretend my feelings are all made up. It’s easier to tell myself that the way he looks at me and holds me is part of the fake fiancée charade.
The door to the bedroom swings open and Emmy and Tess walk toward me, wide-eyed in disbelief, scanning back at Landon and then again at me.
“Sorry, boys, you’ve gotta go. We need girl time,” Emmy says over her shoulder.
I meet Landon’s eyes and he bites his lip, caught. I don’t know how to feel.
“I’ll get you some coffee, Claire,” he says, not giving me a chance to decide if I’m mad at him. He pulls on a tee shirt and then hastily exits to where Ace is waiting in the hallway.
I take a deep breath, not even knowing where to start. However, I don’t need to be the one start the conversation—Tess has no problem jumping right in.
“Um. What the heck is going on?” Tess asks, plopping on my bed once the door in closed. “We got here like five minutes ago and have zero clue what is going on.”
“Did he call you?” I ask.
“Landon?” Emmy nods. “Um. Yeah. He said you were here, with him–which, Claire, we knew nothing about that.” She smacks me on the side of my head.
“Ow,” I say, pushing her away.
“He called to tell us you were having a meltdown and that he needed backup. I tried to ask what the meltdown was over, but he refused to give me details.”