“I wasn’t worth waiting for,” she said.
“That was never your decision to make.”
Claire stood up and gave me a watery smile. “People will start to talk. Max has already commented on the lack of insults I’ve given you.”
I stood too, hearing Jackson asking what else I wanted to drink. I told him the same again and stayed opposite Claire, my hand still burning from touching her. “The afternoon’s going to be busy enough for people to realise you’re not trying to bully me anymore,” I said. “I think most of the insult will be aimed at Jackson.”
“And Seph,” she said, nodding to where Callum and Sophie were quite clearly mocking him. “I should go and stick up for him but I think I’d rather add to his torment.”
The afternoon blurred into evening, food eaten and more drinks consumed. We ended up by the river, in a small pub with a live band playing. Callum had long since disappeared, possibly kidnapped but more than likely having slipped away with one of the many girls that had tried to buy him a drink. Vanessa and Jackson were tucked away into a corner, blurred into one being as they couldn’t stop touching. Sophie and Amelie had bonded over too many bottles of wine and appeared to be putting the male world to rights. Claire was sitting with Max and Seph, my brother having headed off some time ago to relive Marie of babysitting the twins.
Claire slipped away as I delivered a tray of beers to the table. I deposited the drinks and followed her outside, pretty sure that there would be no one untoward but needing some time where it was just the two of us.
The feelings I’d had for her thirteen years ago hadn’t changed. No amount of random women, or even not so random women, hadn’t been enough to rid myself of the need I had had for the girl who was now very much a woman, one who knew her own mind.
She paused by the river bank, staring at the moon reflecting in the water. “If you don’t want company I’ll check my phone from the doors,” I kept my voice low so the passers-by didn’t hear.
Her eyes widened and her lips broadened into a smile. “I needed some fresh air more than anything,” she said. “And a bit of peace.”
I stepped closer, hearing the sound of running water, soothing the night. “It’s been a strange day.”
“It has,” she said, stepping closer to me. “Being back here with you. Jackson and his wedding plans. Having Callum home. It feels like old times in some ways, but then Jackson’s getting married and I overheard them talking about babies before.”
I raised my brows at her. “I get the feeling it won’t be that long.”
She shook her head. “I heard Vanessa say they’d wait a year and then they started talking about names. Honeymoon baby is my bet.” She laughed softly and I lost my fight to not touch her, putting an arm around her shoulder.
“Aunt Claire,” I said quietly. “Fun aunt or strict aunt?”
She didn’t move away so I moved closer. To an outsider we would look like a couple, close and intimate. To her family and our friends, we would look interesting. I prayed they wouldn’t come out, needing her closeness for a little longer.
“Fun aunt,” she said. “I’m excited and nervous at the same time.”
“That’s normal, I think,” I said, smelling her hair, clean and floral. I remembered the scent. “I was the same when I found out about the twins. More nervous though because of the situation.”
“Understandable,” she said, turning into me. Her eyes looked up at mine. “Killian, why can’t you hate me for hurting you?”
I took in her face before speaking: soft skin, high cheekbones, curious eyes that spoke more than her words ever did. “Because I know you had your reasons for it. I know you wouldn’t hurt anyone without good reason.”
Looking into her eyes turned my insides over and I understood what I’d always known: this woman could slay me if she chose to, but I knew she never would. She licked her lips, the tip of her tongue dancing across pink skin and that was it. I needed to feel her in a way others wouldn’t, I needed some evidence that she was still mine. I bent down and pressed my mouth to hers. It was only brief. A quick pressing of our lips, tasting the wine and tequila she’d drunk and demanding nothing. Her hands pressed against my chest, not pushing me away but simply feeling and then she slowly pulled back, eyes wide and swimming with a tempest of emotion.
“We should go back in,” she said, her eyes wild. “K, this… Fuck. This isn’t fair.”
“On who?”
“On either of us.”
“Why?” A cyclist passed by us. An owl called. The river ran its course. But we were the only ones who existed right now.
“Because.”
“Because what, Claire? I’ve been out of the marines for three years. You’ve spent most of that avoiding me, and when you couldn’t manage that you insult me like I’m your worst enemy. I guessed that was because you needed me to be your enemy. But you know what? I’m not. But I am thirty-four years old and you just made me feel like I did when I was twenty and kissed you for the first time.”
She looked at me, half-shocked. I rarely said so much, especially in public, especially that directly.
“I feel like I did when I was eighteen and we kissed for the first time. It was me who kissed you though.”
I grinned, feeling my shoulders relax. “You’re remembering it wrong. Look, we need to talk. Not now. Not after what we’ve drunk and being here for the day. There are too many good fucking memories here. But soon.”
