If she wants me to stop texting her that’s exactly what I’ll do. And not because I know it will drive her nuts. I’ll do it because I’m willing to do pretty much anything to get her back.
But also because it’ll drive her nuts.
I text Tasha to let her know that Claire is okay with Tuesday for the meeting then ignore Tasha’s smiley response as I dial the number of a local tattoo artist I met during my last visit to London. Arthur is the only reason I’m here, so I’m super stoked when he picks up on the third ring.
“Chris ‘Fucking’ Knight. Why the fuck are you calling me at this bloody hour?”
“Hey, Art. You think you can squeeze me in today? Just a quickie. A name.”
Claire doesn’t know I covered up the tattoo of her name I got on my shoulder blade three years ago. I can’t do much about that, but I can do something else even better. Not sure how or when I’ll get to show her this new one, but I’ll find a way.
“It’s Sunday, mate. The shop’s closed. Stop by at eleven.”
I should take a quick nap, but I’m too wired from the flight and the excitement of some new ink. I open the photo app on my phone and scroll to the bottom of the list of folders. I touch the folder labeled ‘CB.’
The first photo is of Claire and me sitting on a piano bench. She’s smiling as I kiss her forehead. This was taken at a show in Toronto; one of the last shows she attended with me before we broke up. The next picture is of her sleeping on the sofa at our house. Her mouth is hanging open and she’s clutching the throw pillow in her fist. I close my eyes and lay the phone next to me on the bed because I’m finally starting to feel tired.
Maybe I’m just exhausted from everything that’s happened the past three weeks. I had resigned myself to a life without Claire. I was certain she wanted nothing more to do with me. But nothing she says to me now can erase that kiss.
I felt it in the curve of her mouth, the way we fit together, the way she leaned into me, seeking me. She still loves me and, despite the fact that she majorly fucked me over, she’s still the one and only future I’m certain of. Claire and I were made for each other. I’m determined to make her remember that.
Chapter Four
Adam
THE FLIGHT IS UNCOMFORTABLE, BUT I’m sober by the time the plane hits cruising altitude. Just knowing that I’m going to be home soon, and that I had enough sense in me not to book that flight to Raleigh, fills me with relief. By the time I pull my truck out of the lot at Wilmington International, I’m feeling 100% back to normal.
I always knew Claire would be my downfall.
The twenty-minute drive home is spent in silence. I realize now why Claire always hated listening to the radio whenever we were together. Now I’m the one avoiding the radio, but I left my iPod in my backpack in the hotel room so I have to suffer in silence.
It’s ridiculous how much I hate Chris’s music now. Just remembering how I bought his album and watched his videos fills me with shame. It’s alternative with a rock-blues edge, but it’s all washed out by pop vocals. At least, that’s what the article I read about him in Entertainment Weekly said.
I smile a little as I remember that review in Entertainment Weekly.
When I enter my apartment I’m hit with the scent of that fucking coconut-scented oil Claire put in a dish on my coffee table. It’s six in the morning. I have just enough time to take an hour-long nap before I check on Cora and head to Shell Island to teach the Sunday session. I take a five-minute shower then lie down in bed with my phone to shoot Claire a text.
Me: Knock, knock.
Claire: Who’s there?
Me: Me… in five days unless I can get this fucking time machine to work.
Claire: Guess what I’m doing?
Me: Lying naked in bed?
Claire: Close. I’m changing into my pajamas. I just got home. Senia broke up with Eddie and made me go out with her. It did not go well.
I trust Claire, but it seems like the universe is pounding the hundred-mile wedge between us deeper into the earth every day.
Me: Is she ok? Are you ok?
Claire: She’s passed out. I didn’t drink, but I’m about to pass out too.
Me: Sleep tight, babydoll.
Claire: I’ll call you when I wake up.
I wake up from my nap and head over to Cora’s apartment feeling much more relaxed now that I know I’ll be hitting the breaks soon. I knock on her door and it takes her almost ten minutes to answer. Though Claire and I both have keys to Cora’s apartment, we try not to barge in unless it’s obvious Cora can’t make it to the door.
The door swings open and she’s already walking away toward her recliner. “Tina’s coming over today. She’s rescheduling all her patients this week; something about a birthday party on Tuesday. I think she’s lying.”