“Claire?” He’s staring at me while I’m having this epiphany, and I can’t help it—I start to laugh. It’s small at the beginning, just a sort of disbelieving giggle, but it quickly grows into something else, something wild and a little manic.
“What’s so funny?” John sticks his hands on his hips, looking like a father who can’t control his toddler.
The thought makes me laugh even harder—the kind of uncontrollable, shoulder-shaking laugh you have when something strikes you funny at a totally inappropriate time, like at a funeral or in church. And judging by the sour expression on his face, I’d say John does not think it’s funny.
And I don’t care about that either.
“Claire, get ahold of yourself, for Pete’s sake,” he hisses.
I hold up a hand. “Sorry.” I walk over to the counter and grab a tissue, dabbing the tears from my eyes and drying my cheeks. “Wow, I haven’t laughed that hard in—” It starts up again, but I manage to lasso it in a little more quickly. “Okay, sorry. You were saying?” I stifle another giggle.
This time, his sigh is doubly heavy. “I was saying, I’m here to help save you from yourself.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought you were saying.” I close my eyes and will myself to be serious. “But I don’t need saving, John. I’m great. My life here is wonderful.”
“I saw the video, Claire. You don’t have to pretend.”
I slowly shake my head. I actually feel a bit sorry for him, that he still doesn’t get it.
“I’m not pretending. Iamfine, and my life is mine to make whatever decisions I want to.”
He starts to say something but quickly snaps his jaw shut.
“I’ve been fine for a while,” I go on. “Better than fine, actually—I’m really, really happy.”
He almost looks pained by the words.
And I don’t care about that either.
“Look, I admit, for a long time I was angry, and I was bitter,” I say. “And Ireallyhated what you did to me.”
“Claire, I—”
I hold up a hand and he shuts right up.
“But I’m not angry anymore. I’m doing really well. I’m happy here. I have great friends. An incredible relationship with someone who actually values meandmy ideas. This new life suits me. I appreciate that you think you’re here to take care of me in the only way you know how, but I don’t need taking care of.”
He stills.
And it’s in that moment that I feel it—the knot that’s been in my stomach since the day I caught him with Misty unravels, and in its place, I imagine all the seeds of possibility sprouting and growing and winding and weaving like they’re finally, finally free to do so.
“My business is going to be a success,” I say. “But even if it wasn’t, that’s not your problem. It’s mine. And either way? I can handle it.”
I lean in just a bit closer.
“And I will.”
He draws in a breath and blows it out, almost like he’s not sure he should believe it.
“You still think of me as that lost, brokenhearted woman you left standing in the fountain all those months ago. But she’s not here anymore, John.”
He inhales a sharp breath. “Does that mean you forgive me?”
“Does that mean you’re apologizing?”
He blows out a breath. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”
I narrow my eyes, searching for the honest answer. “No, honestly. I don’t think I’ve forgiven you yet,” I say. “But I will. I’m working on it. You put me through hell, but I’ve started to realize that good things grow out of pain.”
