“What makes you think it’s not the one?” I ask.
“Well, my mom didn’t love it.”
I raise a brow at her. “So? Why does it matter what your mom loves?”
“It’s mymom, you know?” She presses her lips together and looks over at the other families here at the restaurant. “I don’t want to let her down. And she really loved this other princess-style dress.”
I pull a face. “Princess? Sorry, Claire, but you’ve never struck me as the princess type.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s not a bad thing!” I say quickly. “Princess to me means…stuffy, needy, pretentious. High-maintenance. Even though you like things a certain way, and you like to have order, you’re not demanding. You don’t insist upon your own way.” I shrug. “Besides, those princess dresses are really poofy and big, right?”
She just nods.
“What’s the point of that? To make sure everyone sees you, right? But that’s not you. You don’t demand everyone’s attention. You fly under the radar, letting other people shine. That’s agoodthing.” I pause, then say, “And the people whoreallymatter, the ones who love you most, still see who you are and care about what you want.”
Like me, I want to say.
She’s been hanging on my every word, her eyes locked on mine, and when I finish speaking, they’re shining with unshed tears.
I suck in a breath, worried I’ve gone too far. But I can’t hold back now. I need her to know how I truly feel, and for some reason, no one else in her life encourages her to do that.
She reaches her hand out and covers mine, surprising me with her touch. The warmth from her hand spreads throughout my body, and she squeezes my hand tightly. “Thank you,” she whispers. “I needed to hear that.”
I hold her gaze for a moment, refusing to back away like my instinct tells me to. “You’re welcome,” I say. “I see you, Claire.”
She smiles, a contrast from the tears in her eyes, but at least I know I’ve done my job. I built her up and let her know how I feel about her. She squeezes my hand one more time before letting go.
Just then, the waitress comes up with our slices. “Ready for pie?”
A few days later,we’re back in the conference room, planning the tutoring center. Last week I was ready to throw in the towel on tenure. Now I’m just grateful for this opportunity to spend more time with Claire.
Funding has been handled, and Claire got the classroom in the library, but there’s still a lot to complete. Not that I’m worried about whether we’ll get it all finished. Claire and I make a great team. If we’re a great team at work, imagine how great we’d be as a couple.
Maybe I should work that into the conversation somehow.
And now that I’ve moved from avoiding her to turning up the heat, I’m thankful for these moments with her. This tiny conference room feels more like a gift than a prison cell, and I’m going to take advantage.
Claire peruses the to-do list we compiled a month ago, flicking her auburn hair over her shoulder and sending her orange blossom scent my way. I take advantage of the chance to watch her unnoticed. She’s beautiful, of course, but it’s her mind, her quiet strength, her sense of humor, her care and consideration that bring me to my knees.
She’s perfect.
Well, perfect except for the fact that she accepted Zach’s proposal.
But I’ll do everything in my power to show her that it was the wrong choice.
“So the next things are the schedule, staffing, and curriculum,” she says, looking up at me.
“Well, you already have the two of us signed up to staff the center,” I say.
“Right,” she says. “Which replaces some of the units we’d normally be teaching in the fall.” She sets down the papers and sighs. “I’m actually looking forward to that. I miss helping students one on one.”
“Really? Don’t you get enough of that in office hours?”
She shrugs a shoulder. “It’s a little different when you’re their instructor. I tutored for years when I was in high school and college, and it’s so satisfying to help them fill in those gaps. Especially when it’s more low pressure.”
“I can see that.” Of course Claire would love that.
