“For your parents, too,” she adds wistfully. “Not many people would be open to having so many kids.”
There’s a twinge in my chest when I recognize that longing she mentioned before, the one we had in common, but I let my resentment override my remorse this time.
“Are you here alone?” I venture after an awkward silence.
She looks down at her feet as she speaks. “I don’t have a date, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“What about a husband?” My tone is rougher than I intend, but it’s probably for the best since we have an audience.
“Officially my ex-husband,” she confirms with an eye roll.
“Right,” I say, clearing my throat and surveying the area again. One of my brothers and his wife are watching us more carefully now, as is my mother. “Well, you look nice,” I add, but Claire ignores my compliment, probably because it didn’t come out sounding as sincere as it should have.
“Did you bring a date?” she asks after a while.
“Nope, I’m all alone. The last of the nine LaFleurs without a spouse,” I reply bitterly. “And no prospects of changing that any time soon.”
She furrows her brow. “Why are you acting like this?”
“Like what? A stranger?” I ask, pointing to my chest.
“Like you’re not the same guy who once insisted he was my soulmate and practically begged me for a second date,” she says quietly.
“Yeah, well, you’re the one who casually forgot to mention you were still married before you took me to bed, then made it clear you didn’t want any kind of contact with me again. So you don’t get to make judgments about what I’m like when you obviously don’t care to know the real me.”
“Wow.” She blinks away her surprise. “Maybe you’re right. I don’t know you very well at all, because the guy I met before would never be this butthurt about anything, much less an arrangement he willingly entered.”
I scoff. “Because you weren’t honest from the jump. Not only did you let me think your divorce was already finalized, but you withheld the fact that you’ve been friends with my sister this whole time.”
“That’s not completely true. I didn’t make the connection between you and Daisy until later,” she whispers harshly.
“But you eventually figured it out,” I fire back, even though my argument sounds weak now. “And you still didn’t bother to reach out to me.” She frowns, and my stomach churns with guilt.
“I couldn’t find you on any kind of social media, so what was I supposed to do? Ask Daisy for your number, just in case you happened to be that random guy I almost hooked up with the other day? Scandalize your sister by telling her how we practically spent the night together despite barely knowing one another? That we were too busy exchanging bodily fluids to swap contact info?”
I sigh because she’s right, even if she’s being vulgar. And because a part of me still regrets passing up the rest of that exchange.
“A heads up before the wedding would have been nice,” I say faintly, forcing those thoughts from my mind again. “You could have tracked me down without involving Daisy, especially since you know where I work.”
“You could have found me just as easily. You knew I’d seen another doctor in your practice, so I’m sure you have access to my files.”
“You’ve apparently changed your last name since then, and I’m pretty sure that would have been a HIPAA violation, anyway,” I grumble, and she rolls her eyes again. “Besides, you only wanted me for one night. I had no choice but to respect your wishes.”
“From what I remember,you’rethe one who walked out onme, and you’re not exactly acting like you’re happy to see me right now,” she contends, crossing her arms.
She’s right again. I’m making an ass of myself, but I don’t understand why.
No, that’s a lie. I know why I’m upset. But I can’t exactly admit that I’m projecting my guilt without divulging some secrets of my own.
“I’m sorry,” I say after a few seconds, softening my expression. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t like myself very much at the moment, either.”
“Yeah, well, it wouldn’t be the first time I brought out the worst in a man,” she mumbles, her eyes looking shiny now.
“No, please don’t …” The urge to reach out and comfort her is so strong that it distracts me from my apology. I take a deep breath and fist my hands in my pockets before I start again. “I really am sorry, Claire. You deserve better. I’m just … I guess I’ve been having a harder time dealing with all this change than I expected,” I explain, nodding my head in the direction of the bride and groom. “But there’s no excuse for the way I’ve behaved toward you.”
She ducks her head as she runs a knuckle beneath her eyes to dry them. “I imagine today’s been sort of bittersweet for you. And I get the part about not feeling like yourself as you’re going through, you know,changes.”
I cringe at the reminder that she’s literally just been through a divorce. “I’m being insensitive again. I’m sorry.”
