She stares at me.
“Claire? Claire Caldwell? Oh my God, itisyou! Hi!”
I step back so Saylor can hug Claire. Beck, hovering behind her, gives me a long, searching look that tells me he’s put together the identity of the woman I told him about.
I nod once, not sure what I’m trying to convey.
“How are you?” Claire asks Saylor.
“Right now?” Saylor beams. “Amazing. It’s nice to be home. Well,closerto home. It’s been a while since we visited. We were supposed to visit my friend Emma earlier this year, but plans fell through.” She glances at me. “Beck and I decided to stop to visit Otto on the way to see my parents.”
“Oh.” Claire is looking at me, too, because when I glance her way, her gaze quickly flicks in another direction. “Fun!”
She’s not a great actress. It’s fairly obvious from her tone that Claire was not as surprised to see Saylor as Saylor was to see her.
“How do you two know each other?” Saylor asks.
I’m highly suspicious of her tone. It’s a little too innocent.
“I play on the Siege now,” Claire answers.
“Oh. Wow! That’s awesome.” Saylor’s reaction seems genuine, and I reassess my assumption that Beck told his wife the real reason I was hesitant to come to Boston. Saylor focuseson me again, a mischievous smile pulling up the corners of her lips. “Must be rough, having Otto as a coach.”
“Fuck off, Scott,” I say.
Saylor just smiles wider.
“He’s been really helpful to the team,” Claire says, a trace of defensiveness in her tone.
I think Saylor might hear it, too, because she looks at Claire, not me, as she replies, “I’m just giving Berger shit. He knows I know he’s the best Kluvberg player.”
“Standing right the fuck here,” Beck comments.
“Here’s the lager and the whiskey sour.” The bartender Claire was talking to is back, setting two glasses in front of her. “I’ll bring the Coke over to your table. That way, you won’t have to balance three glasses.”
“I can balance three glasses, Blake,” she tells the guy.
“I know.” He grins at her. “But you’re not working, and it gives me an excuse to come over to your table.”
A muscle in my jaw pops, and I try to force it to relax.
“Uh, okay. Thanks.” Claire’s uncomfortable, but I can’t tell if it’s because of his flirting or because Saylor, Beck, and I are all witnessing it.
She turns toward us, one glass in each hand. “Enjoy your night, guys.”
“Come over to our booth before you head out,” Saylor says. “I’d love to catch up more.”
Claire nods. “Of course. Yeah, I’ll stop by. See you then.”
As soon as Claire walks away, Saylor turns toward Beck. “You know what I want. I’m going to the bathroom.”
Beck says nothing as we stand alone by the bar. Then, “Assume you’d prefer to order from a different bartender?”
I roll my eyes, then lead him down to the opposite end.
33
CLAIRE
