“He does, doesn’t he?” Claire says, looking up, meeting my eyes.
I swear the entire world stops. It’s just her and me.
I want to weep, and I want to kiss her, and I want to scream to the world that she’s mine.
But first, Fiona speaks. “Claire explained an awful lot this morning.”
“A lot? Does that mean everything?” I ask.
“Everything,” Claire says, taking off her engagement ring and handing it to me, not meeting my gaze.
I had no idea Claire planned on laying out my lies, but it’s her story to tell. I can’t be mad at her about it.
Just fucking pissed.
Still, I need to apologize to my parents before I can talk to her.
“Well, then,” I say. “I’m sorry, Mum and Dad, for lying. It was a poor imitation at being an adult. I should have done better.”
“Ah, but had you done differently, would you have found this?” Mum asks, tilting her head toward Claire and Sophia, who are cheek to cheek, heart to heart, arm in arm.
“I suppose I wouldn’t have.” I look over at Claire, my jaw clenched. What the hell? We swore we wouldn’t tell my parents.
“That would be a pity, wouldn’t it, son?” Dad asks. “Now, I know your posse has just arrived, but your mum and I need to speak with you for a moment, all right?”
“Right.” Then I look over at Claire, who’s biting her knuckles, clearly sensing my anger. “But do you suppose I could speak with Claire first?”
“If you need to, son,” Dad says.
I nod to my friends, before grabbing Claire’s hand and dragging her out of the sitting room.
I lead her up the stairs, so confused. Wanting to scream. Why did she never return my calls? Why did she tell my family the story that was mine to tell?
“What the hell, Claire?” I ask, the moment I’ve shut our bedroom door behind us.
“What do you mean?” she asks, running her hands through her hair.
“What do I mean? I mean why did you tell my family it was a fake engagement?”
She scoffs, turning to face me. “Are you serious right now? You’re the one telling me all the time to be brave. To stick up for myself. To not be ashamed. So, one time I grow a pair and set the story straight, and you get mad? I can’t win.”
“It’s not about winning or losing. It’s about being in this together,” I tell her, wanting to grab her and scream, but also wanting her to believe me. Trust me. See me for who I fucking am.
Hers.
“Oh, together? Is that what we are?” she asks, incredulous. “Is that why you hung up angry, screaming on the phone, because we’re in this together?”
“I want to be in this with you, Claire. But, fuck—I’m not perfect. I was shocked when we talked on the phone. You kept things from me. You let me confess my love to you, totally playing me for a fool. I can’t have my woman making me into a fucking pussy.”
“Is that what I am? Your woman? I don’t want to be your thing, Landon. That’s what happened the first time. I was someone’s thing. Now I want to be a partner. A wife. A mother. A daughter. A friend. But not your woman.”
“Fuck that,” I tell her. “You can be all those things; you should be all this things. But you can also be mine. And when I say you’re my woman, I mean I will fucking protect you. Keep you safe. Cherish you. Fight for you.”
Her eyes fill with tears. She shakes her head and tries to move away, but I grab her wrists, pull her to me.
“You don’t get to run from me because you’re scared,” I tell her. “Let me in. Let me be there for the hard conversations. Let me be there for the parts that feel impossible. Let me take care of you.”
And then she kisses me.
And her salty tears wash away her fears, wash away my questions. Her mouth melts against mine, and we become one.
Anything I may have finished with Claire is interrupted when Brandon summons me to my parents’ room.
I knock on Mum and Dad’s door. When they let me in, Dad asks, “So, you and Claire have things sorted out?”
I nod, relieved that that’s my answer, and also that this isn’t going to be an inquisition. My parents are just checking in with me. I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding.
“Good,” Mum says. “I know that confession of hers was a lot to take in—but, Landon, things tend to work out when everything is in the open.”
“I hope so, Mum.”
Dad uses a key from his bureau to open a safe in the back of the closet.
“Are we on a treasure hunt?” I ask, not knowing what they’ve called me here for.
“I suppose so,” Mum says, smiling slightly as if she has a secret.