“Yep,” I repeat. But I feel slightly guilty sitting on Claire’s couch and talking trash about her boyfriend—ugh, fiancé—and about how she needs to work on her people-pleasing tendencies, so I stand. “I’m gonna go help Claire.”
Pam sits forward. “Should I come?”
I put a hand up to stop her. “No, you relax. You guys have done so much already.”
She sits back, settling into Aaron’s arm, and I head down the hallway to Claire’s bedroom. The second bedroom sits completely empty, ready for Zach’s nonsense stuff. The apartment itself is pretty nice, but it’s FAR. Far from work, far from my place, far from the beach.
I find Claire sitting on her bed, not touching any of the bags of clothes that are strewn around her room. She’s looking down at her fingers, fiddling with them like she does when she’s thinking or nervous.
“Hey.” I sit down next to her, trying not to think too hard about the fact that I’m sitting on Claire’s bed. Her BED. This is where she sleeps, lets her guard down, imagines her future. The most vulnerable spot in her apartment. This is a bridge we haven’t yet crossed, and I fear there’s no turning back. Our lives have mostly been intertwined at work, but today, here, we’ve shared the personal side of her, and it feels like another step toward the connection I’ve craved for years.
“Hey.” She looks over at me and puts on a fake smile. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought you might need a friend,” I say.
Her smile fades. “I think I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.”
“No kidding. And you’re not the one who had to carry a kitchen table down one staircase and up another.”
“I’m sorry about that.” She shakes her head. “Wait, no. Not sorry? Even though I feel guilty.”
“I think that’s the problem,” I say. “You feel guilty because you think I’m upset with you. I’m not. I’m happy to help. More happiness in giving and all that.”
“Yeah. I guess you’re right.”
“So thank you for giving me the happiness that comes from giving.” I nudge her shoulder.
She gives a light laugh. “I’m so exhausted.”
“We can leave,” I say, even though that’s the absolute last thing I want to do right now. Her arm is pressed against mine, our legs are touching, and all I want to do is stay here with her. But if she’s tired, I don’t want to overstay my welcome.
“No,” she says quickly. “I want you to stay.”
Our eyes lock, and I feel like there’s more to be said right here, right now. She doesn’t say anything, and I don’t either as I wait for her to make her own realizations and conclusions.
A knock sounds on the door. Claire raises her brows. “Pizza time!” She gets up and heads to the door.
I sigh, feeling like I’m SO CLOSE to getting through to her. But I follow her back to the living room.
We eatour pizza on paper plates provided by the pizza place, and then Aaron and Pam promptly fall asleep on the couch. Claire doesn’t seem bothered at all, so I figure I’ll let them get in a nap before driving back home. Plus I get to spend a little extra time with Claire.
“Did you see the balcony?” she asks me.
“Balcony?” I shake my head. “No, I didn’t.”
She gestures for me to follow her, and we walk into the second bedroom, the one that’s completely empty. There’s a set of French doors, and Claire opens them to reveal a small balcony.
“Why isn’t this your bedroom?” I ask.
“Zach said he wanted the balcony for his office. So he’d get a break from his work every now and then.”
“Hmm.” Selfish jerk. Of course, I don’t say that out loud.
“But it’s mine for now,” she says. She points to one wall back inside the room. “I want to put a desk there. I can work on my book and have these doors open so I can have fresh air.”
“I think that’s a great idea.”
“Yeah. At least I have it until Zach takes over.” Claire leans her elbows on the railing, looking out at the parking lot. There’s nothing spectacular to look at…except for Claire. The air is in that transition from winter to spring, the faint reminder that warm nights are coming. The wind blows her auburn hair away from her face, and the moon lights her features. I have to stop myself from telling her how beautiful she is.
