"Out of the mouths of babes," he says.
"Your wife needs to stop psychoanalyzing me to your daughter."
"Good luck with that."
Dinner is called before I can escape. The massive table in Logan's dining room barely fits everyone. I end up wedged between Dan and Miguel, directly across from Claire.
Of course.
She meets my eyes briefly before looking away, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. Has she been thinking about yesterday? About the way I practically threw her out of my apartment?
About the way I looked at her before I caught myself?
Erica passes platters of food while conversations overlap and tangle. Claire fields questions from every direction with grace, deflecting anything too personal with a smile and a redirect. She's good at it. Too good. Like someone who's spent her whole life learning to give people what they want while hiding everything real.
"So Claire," Sarah leans forward, eyes sparkling with mischief. "What do you do back in Virginia?"
"I was a kindergarten teacher." Claire's smile doesn't quite reach her eyes. "I resigned a few weeks ago."
"Needed a change of scenery?"
"Something like that."
Sarah opens her mouth to push further, but Miguel puts a hand on her arm. She subsides with a pout.
"What about you, Max?" Erica asks. "How's the new commission coming?"
I grunt. "Slow."
"He's been working on an eagle for three weeks," Logan supplies. "It's going to be incredible when he stops second guessing himself."
"I don't second guess myself."
"You've started over four times."
"That's called process."
Claire is watching me with an expression I can't read. Interest, maybe. Curiosity.
"You make sculptures?" she asks.
"Metal work. Nothing fancy."
"He's being modest," Erica cuts in. "His pieces are stunning. There's one in the community center that everyone talks about. A mother bear with her cubs."
Claire's eyes widen slightly. "I'd love to see your work sometime."
The request is innocent enough. But something about the way she says it, soft and sincere, makes my chest tighten.
"The shop's always open," I hear myself say. "During the day, anyway."
What the fuck am I doing?
I spent all night convincing myself to keep distance between us. To help her from afar, the way I've been doing for ten years. Send her back to Virginia with some cash and maybe some phone numbers for people who can actually help her rebuild her life.
Instead, I'm inviting her into my space. My sanctuary. The only place where I feel anything close to peace.
After dinner, people scatter. Kids get rounded up for the drive home. Leftovers get parceled out. I help Logan clear the table, grateful for something to do with my hands.
