Then I hang up. The silence in the room presses down harder now. The ache returns immediately because the worst part is, I still love him. Or at least I think I do. I don’t understand how someone who loves you can still break you like that. I stare at the phone again and part of me wants to call him back. Demand answers. Force him to explain. My thumb hovers over his name.
Then I stop. Instead, I scroll down. Clara. I press call and she answers on the second ring. “Okay,” she says immediately. “What happened.”
I blink. “Hello to you too.”
“I know that tone. Spill.”
I sigh and sit up, leaning back against the headboard. “Well… a lot.”
There’s a rustling sound on the other end of the line. “I’m sitting down,” Clara says. “Proceed.”
So I tell her about the flight, about the guy on the plane who stole my seat, about the bar, about Lucien, about the cemetery, about the kiss. There’s silence for exactly two seconds.
Then Clara gasps. “YOU KISSED HIM?”
I pull the phone away from my ear. “Can you not scream?”
“I absolutely cannot not scream. Era, you kissed the mysterious hot guy?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“It was exactly like that.”
I rub my forehead. “It was complicated.”
“Oh my God,” Clara breathes. “You met a handsome stranger in New York, he’s the owner of your company, he took you to a cemetery, confessed his tragic love story, and then kissed you?”
When she says it like that, it sounds insane. “That sounds bad,” I mutter.
“That sounds romantic.”
I groan. “I’m still married.”
“Barely,” Clara says immediately.
“Clara—”
“No. Absolutely not. Don’t ‘Clara’ me.” Her voice softens slightly. “You walked in on your husband cheating on you, Era.”
A tight, invisible weight presses in on me. “I know.”
“You deserve more than that.”
I stare at the dark window across the room and the city lights flicker far below. “I still love him,” I whisper.
Clara is quiet for a moment. “I know you do,” she says gently. “But loving someone doesn’t mean you have to stay where they broke you.”
My throat tightens. I blink hard.
“And besides,” she adds, suddenly giddy again, “this Lucien situation sounds extremely promising.”
I laugh despite myself.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“I’m realistic.” She says.
“You don’t even know him.”
