Claire sat across from me.
Close enough that I could smell her perfume, light and fruity. Close enough to see the faint freckles across her nose, the way her green eyes crinkled when she smiled at Lily.
Conversation flowed easily. Lily talked about her shoes. Sophie told a story about a babysitting disaster. Mom listened, relaxed and present in a way she hadn’t always been these past months.
I watched it all with quiet disbelief.
This was the life I’d always wanted. Not the chaos. Not the extremes.
This gentle, ordinary happiness.
And sitting across from me, laughing with Lily like she’d always belonged there, was the woman I’d never quite stopped loving.
For now, that was enough.
Chapter 58
Ethan
Time stretches the way it does when you don’t want it to move too fast and can’t stop it from doing so anyway.
Mom checks her phone and frowns lightly. “Bathroom break,” she announces to Lily. “Before we regret these milkshakes.”
Lily groans dramatically but hops down anyway, grabbing her hand as if Mom might get lost without her. “Youpromiseddessert after!”
“I promised nothing,” she says, smiling as they walk away. “You heard what you wanted.”
Their voices fade into the hum of the mall.
Almost immediately after, Sophie’s phone buzzes. She answers it distractedly at first, nodding along, then her posture stiffens.
“Oh. Okay. Yeah, I’m so sorry, no, I’ll come right now.”
She hangs up and looks at Claire, already gathering her bag. “Theo has a fever. The sitter’s worried.”
Claire’s face softens instantly. “Go. I’ll call later.”
Sophie squeezes her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
She leaves in a rush, heels clicking away, swallowed by the crowd.
And suddenly, it’s just us.
The space across the table feels… charged now. Electric. Like the energy has shifted without either of us noticing.
Claire sits opposite me, one leg crossed over the other, absently stirring her drink with a straw. I lift my cup and take a long swallow, realizing too late how dry my throat is.
She’s not wearing what she usually does.
At school, she dresses with intention, to disappear just enough. Soft sweaters. Long skirts. Cardigans buttoned high. Clothes that make her look safe and untouchable.
Today, she’s let herself be seen.
Her hair is down, falling in loose waves around her face, catching the harsh mall lights and somehow softening them. Strands brush her collarbone when she moves, and every time she tucks one back behind her ear, my attention follows the motion like it’s instinct instead of choice.
She wore a pale green, strappy dress, the hem just above her knee, easy and unassuming, the kind of thing that looked better the longer you looked at it. I certainly did.
