“Good for you.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. Then she closed her eyes and finally, her shoulders sagged. “I really hoped that he was dead.”
“Me too.” Without hesitating, I spun her toward me and hauled her into a hug, wrapping her in my arms and feeling her cheek press against my heart.
Clara snaked her hands around me, and as tightly as I held her, she clung to me.
“I’m sorry,” I said into her hair.
“They should have made a better plan. My parents. They let us down.”
I stayed quiet. My hatred was aimed at her uncle, but there was resentment for her parents too. Resentment I hadn’t understood as a teenager. Her mom and dad had let their daughters down by not having a better plan in case of their deaths.
Clara and Aria never should have been given to their uncle.
“What can I do?” I asked.
“You’re doing it.” She relaxed, giving me her weight.
The scent of orange and vanilla filled my nose as I rested my chin on her head. Having her in my embrace felt so familiar. So . . . right.
I should let her go. Let her go.
I didn’t move.
“Do you still hug everyone goodbye?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Then why not me?” I remembered that so clearly from our time at the junkyard. Whether it had been in town when she’d go one way and I’d go the other, or even when she caught me at the junkyard before I’d leave for the day. Every goodbye had come with a hug. Most hellos too.
Until now. Last night, there’d been no hug.
Not once since she’d come to Elyria had she touched me.
Clara loosened her grip on me and slid her arms free. Then, too soon, she was gone and there was a gulf between us.
I’d asked the question.
But she didn’t answer.
We both knew the answer would only make this worse.
“I’d better get August his treat.” She pointed to the store, but the crease between her eyebrows told me she didn’t want to go inside.
“What does he want? I’ll grab it.”
She opened her wallet, but I waved it off. “I’ve got it. I’m going to get some water too.”
“Skittles or Swedish Fish or Starbursts or Twizzlers. He loves fruity candy.”
“Got it.” Then I got the hell away.
Fuck. Maybe we should say our goodbyes tonight and I should go home. That would be the smart thing to do. Call it over and done with.
Instead, I bought August’s candy and listened to him tell me about which color combinations of Skittles were the best as we drove to the hotel. Then we went swimming for a few hours while Clara looked on from a lounge chair.
Entertainment at dinner was once again provided by the five-year-old, and when we returned to the hotel, I had this sinking feeling that I wasn’t going to see him again. In just a few days, August had made a lasting impression.
I’d miss dinners without a nonstop stream of interesting facts that he learned at school. I’d miss the excitement that seemed to pour from every word.
But if I couldn’t control these feelings about Clara, then I had to cut off contact. I’d done it for twelve years, so what was a lifetime more?
No Clara meant no Gus. I’d miss out on seeing him as a teenager. A young man. An adult. There was a twinge in my chest as he pushed the elevator button. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his smile and his small hands and the slight waves in his dark-blond hair.
Was this why Clara was always looking to him? Because she knew how fast he would change?
My throat was dry as we stepped into the elevator and rode to our floor. As Gus raced down the hallway toward the room, my steps dragged like I was wearing lead-filled shoes.
Clara’s steps seemed even shorter and heavier than mine.
This was goodbye. There was the trip to the airport in the morning, but that would be full of logistics, baggage and a rushed farewell.
“Can we rent a movie?” August asked, standing beside their door.
“Sure.” Clara nodded.
“Want to watch with us?” he asked me.
I opened my mouth to let him down gently, but then Clara answered for me. “Yeah. Watch with us.”
“Okay.” Reckless, but that was my defining trait this week.
So we went inside her room, the three of us settling on the couch in the common room in her suite, with August in the middle, and rented a movie.
Gus fell asleep halfway through the musical cartoon.
“This is more excitement than he’s used to,” Clara said, turning down the volume on the TV.
“He’s such a great kid. Maybe the best I’ve ever met.”
She smiled down at him as he slumped into her side. “He’s pretty fantastic, isn’t he?”
“I have to tell you something,” I said. “Probably should have admitted it sooner.”
“What?”
“I looked you up on Facebook.”
Her eyes widened. “You did? When?”
“About six years ago. I was curious. Temptation got the better of me and I wanted to know that you were okay. You didn’t have much posted but a few pictures. I saw one of you and him together. You looked happy. In love. It was hard to see.”
So I hadn’t looked her up again. Clara or Londyn or Gemma or Katherine. I’d taken it as a sign to move forward. Easier said than done.
“I assume the guy was Gus’s father. What happened?”
She sighed. “About what I said last night. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. I know it put you in an uncomfortable position with Holly and . . . I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” If only she knew the real reason that I was uncomfortable had nothing to do with her words, but the words I wanted to say back.
“I met Devan in Las Vegas.” She stared at the TV as she spoke. “I’d been living there for years and work was mostly my life. It was rare that I did anything exciting, but one weekend some friends dragged me to a nightclub. That’s where I met him.”
Green crept under my skin but I stayed expressionless, listening. “How long were you together?”
“About a year. I should have ended it long before that. But Devan had his moments when he was wonderful and funny and loving. Whatever pictures you saw were probably from those times. But the longer we were together, the more I realized that those good moments were only because he knew I was about to call it off. Then he’d charm me, and I’d fall for it. I’d forget that he was a narcissist, and I was only a beautiful decoration in a world that revolved around him.”
How could anyone in Clara’s presence not want to fall into her orbit? This guy Devan must have been blind.
“I got pregnant. Obviously. It hadn’t been planned, but he accused me of doing it on purpose even though I’d been on birth control.”
“Seriously?”
She shrugged. “A baby meant Devan wouldn’t be the center of attention. To this day, I don’t know if he ever believed that it was an accident. We’d fight about it. I’d tell him we were done. He’d apologize and we’d be good for a week. Until we weren’t. It was this sick, unhealthy cycle, but I didn’t want to let him go. Not for me, but for August. I was sure that if I could just get Devan through the pregnancy, he’d meet our son and realize that love wasn’t a competition. That there was enough for him and a baby.”