I make a phone call and then go to our bedroom. She's curled in a ball on the bed looking at her phone.
I get in beside her, trying to give her as much space as possible. Wondering if I should even be here at all.
"Do you want to see a picture of her?" she asks, rolling over to face me, her phone in hand. I love that she doesn't play games where she refuses to speak because she's upset. She isn't running from me, from our fight.
"Yes." My voice is so quiet, because I feel like I don't deserve her trust ... her anything ... but I want it so badly. Want her so badly.
She passes me her phone. "That's her at the first day of kindergarten."
The photo is of a miniature Claire. Blonde hair and tan skin and bright green eyes. Sophia wears a pleated skirt and knee socks and a button-down shirt.
"She goes to a private school? I assumed...."
"That I couldn't afford to send my daughter somewhere nice?"
"No ... well, yes. You've been so adamant about needing the money I figured-"
"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."
"So you three just hopped on a plane and came? Across the world?" I sit up in the bed, trying to gather my bearings. Never in a million years did I expect to wake up to this.
"Of course we did, weirdo," Tess says. "Well, I mean, Ace flew us here in a private jet, which honestly was a big help. My credit cards are completely maxed out, so having a free ticket helped with the speed of travel." She grins, but I just bite my lip, not knowing how I feel.
"You haven't answered our calls for four days," Emmy says, sitting cross-legged on the bed. "And then we find out that you – our best friend – ran off with Landon to England."
"Yeah, a heads-up that you had fallen in love with him would have been freaking considerate," Tess barks at me.
Do I tell them the reason I'm there? How it has nothing to do with love. How the potential paycheck has everything to do with my daughter.
My daughter.
I need to lead with that. I cover my face with my hands, totally ashamed and totally over my head.
"What the fuck!?" Tess grabs my hand, shrieking. "You got engaged? To Landon?"
"Ohmigod," Emmy says. "Why in the world did you hide this from us?"
"It's complicated, and-" Before I can say anything else, Landon is back in the room with a tray of fruit, coffee, and mimosas.
"For the ladies," he says, setting the tray on the bed.
I smile, a really fake smile because I actually want to scream.
Instead, I stand and pull Landon into the bathroom.
"Sorry, girls, just need to speak with Landon for a sec," I tell them. They're both too stunned to speak, so I shut the door behind me.
"Hey, Claire ... now don't be mad," he says as I back him into the corner. Literally.
"Landon, what were you thinking?" I hiss. "This is going to end badly."
"No. It doesn't have to be bad. You kept saying how terrible you feel about lying to them. And I hate that you are carrying that around. I thought-"
"You thought they were just gonna think it's cute that we are engaged?"
"Well, we can tell them it's a fake engagement."
"No, we can't."
"What do you mean? Of course we can. They won't care."
"I care, Landon. Me. I don't want my friends to know I'm okay with deceiving your family for money," I say.
"They will hate Geoffrey and Fiona, which means they'll be happy I'm taking the business."
"No," I say. "They'll think I'm a shitty person. Which just confirms how I already feel."
"You're seriously making way too big of a deal out of this."
At that moment I want to scream. I want to strangle Landon for being such a guy.
"No, I'm not," I whisper. "And it is so like you to minimize this. To not realize the implications. Even if I was okay with them knowing about our scheme, you think it's smart to let Ace and Emmy and Tess all in on our plan? While they're here at your parents' house? Someone will accidentally let the cat out of the bag."
Landon fills his cheeks with air, realizing what I'm saying is true.
He exhales. "Fuck. Sorry. I shouldn't have called them without asking you."
"Now I have to lie. More."
"Not about everything," he says.
And for a stupid second I think maybe he means I don't have to pretend about the engagement. That he really wants to be with me.
And for a stupider moment I want him to say that.
But then he opens his mouth again. "If they're your real friends, they'll forgive you for lying about Sophia."
I nod, hoping he's right.