Me: I know that’s not what you meant, but I’ll give it to you.
Clara: Night, Dax.
Me: Sweet dreams, Clara.
I groan loudly, and the sound bounces off my bedroom walls. I have to sleep. I have long hours the next few days, so I could get off for Jacob’s birthday party.
But all I keep thinking about is Clara’s tight body, bare underneath mine. How am I supposed to go back to being friends with her?
I roll over, smashing my face into the pillow. This is a new form of torture I didn’t expect to experience. I always thought I’d never have her, but if in some alternate universe, we did end up in bed together, that would be it.
We’d be together.
I never thought she’d shun me.
Exhaling, I know what I have to do. I have to give her time, but even if she doesn’t want me the way I want her, she needs to know we’ll still be friends. That I’m here no matter what.
Even if I’m the one hurt in the end.
Twenty
Clara
“Where do you want the tables?” my mom asks.
Andrew is on her heel with a couple bottles of both red and white wine. He sets them on the counter and touches my mom’s shoulder, waiting for my answer, ready to help as always.
“Along the fence outside so they still have room to play in the middle.” I squeeze their hands. “Thank you. Now, I need to check in with Sienna. She’s picking up the cake. Dax was going to, but he’s stuck at work.”
“He’s not coming?” My mom furrows her eyebrows.
“I don’t know, Mom. He may just come late.” I shrug, trying to appear unaffected. This is Dax, after all. He’s canceled at the last minute several times over the years. With his busy schedule, it’s hard to keep every promise.
But today’s different.
There’s a sinking feeling in my stomach that he’s not coming because of me. That he doesn’t want to see me after I stood him up. After he poured his heart out, and I pushed him away.
And accused him of the worst thing.
We haven’t talked the last few days, not since he texted me to apologize, which I didn’t know how to react to.
I’m the one who’s sorry.
I’m the one who’s a torn mess.
Taking deep breaths, I try to focus on the tasks at hand.
This is Jacob’s day. There’s no room for my meltdown on my son’s birthday.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I throw my hands up, pretending to surrender when Jacob jumps out at me, waving his toy sword around. Luke and another kid from his class jump out behind him with similar swords. All of them have adorable grimaces on their faces like they mean business. “I give up. White flag. Please let me live!” I play along.
“You may pass onto the secret staircase, madam.” Jacob moves to the side and lets me pass.
Instinctively, I lean down and kiss his forehead. He swats me away, jerking his head toward his friends. “Mom,” he whines.
“Oh, right.” I hold my hands up in another surrender. “Now, go play outside while it’s still relatively warm.”
I stop at the bottom of the stairs when I hear a car pull up. Thinking it’s Dax, I rush to peer out the window. It’s not him, but I smile, nonetheless.
Zach gets the wheelchair from the back of their van, then unfolds it to roll toward Willow, who’s still in the passenger’s seat. He opens her door, his eyes dancing. I can see his affection from here as he lifts her into her chair. She grabs his face and kisses him, then pulls back with a smile.
It’s the stuff of movies. The fluttery feeling in your stomach that stays with you. It’s true love they share.
I swallow the lump in my throat and open the front door. “I’m so glad you two made it,” I say and meet them by their van. I lean down to hug Willow, then lead them to the backyard, so she can use the sidewalk. “I talked to a guy last week about installing a ramp up to the front door, but I have this path for now, at least.”
“Oh, don’t you worry about that, but thank you.” She waves her hand. “Now, can we please talk about how you have an eleven-year-old son? How is that even possible?”
We both squeal as we get to the yard where the boys run rampant like they ate the whole cake and downed a Red Bull.
“I can’t believe it myself.” I wrap my arms around my midsection.
We come to a stop by the table full of food set on a checkered tablecloth. My mom and Andrew insisted they help, and of course, they came through with the works—salad, fruit trays, finger sandwiches, and pigs in a blanket. Andrew’s sister is visiting and brought homemade baklava too. My mouth immediately watered when I saw it and smelled the honey and cinnamon.
“Can I get you ladies anything to drink?” Zach offers.
“Oh, don’t be silly. You’re guests. What can I get you two?”
He shakes his head, backing away toward the sliding door that leads to the kitchen. “Stay and chat. I got this.”
“Lemonade, please,” Willow and I say in unison, bringing about a round of laughs.
“So, have you, um,” I sputter, rubbing the back of my neck like I’m about to ask her how she ended up in the chair as I know other people do. Shaking my head, I exhale, trying to find the right words.
“I saw Dax a few nights ago, if that’s what you’re wondering.” She smiles knowingly at me, then tilts her head in sympathy. “I don’t know the details of what happened with you two, but he’s miserable. As bad as he was at your wedding, even.”
My head snaps toward her. “You know?”
“Sweetheart, my brother has been crazy about you since he was old enough to write his own name. Crazier for you than he is medicine, and we both know better than most how much he loves his work.”
I blink at her.
The whole world knew.
Except for me.
I kick at the ground, stuffing my hands in my back pockets, and my oversized burnt orange sweater slides off one shoulder.
Have they all thought I was cruel to Dax? All this time? I inwardly shudder.
“You didn’t take it well, I assume?” Willow asks tentatively.
I expect her to be sad or even yell at me that I hurt her only sibling, but she shows no sign of anger or distress, which relieves me.
“I don’t know how to wrap my head around it.” I blow out a shaky breath. “I got married and had a kid, and during all of that, I leaned on Dax as a friend. I even complained to him about my husband and our spats, for God’s sake. And now I learn that he’s been in love with me this whole time—I mean, was any of our friendship real?”
Jacob and his friends shout as they barrel through the door with Nerf guns.
After a short pause, Willow nods to the corner of the yard, away from the noise, and we move that way. She squeezes my hand, swinging it sideways in the space between us. “When I woke up from the accident and learned our parents had died, my heart completely shattered.” Her eyes well with tears, and so do mine. “I was told I’d never walk again. I didn’t know how to process that. How to adapt. On top of that, I was concerned with how Dax and I would rebuild our lives at such a young age without our parents. I didn’t know how we’d ever recover emotionally.”