After a long five-course meal, Claire’s eyes light up when it’s time to open her gift.
“This better not be anything expensive,” my mom says as she unties the white satin ribbon.
“It wasn’t. I think all the materials cost like $40.” Claire leans forward, her eyes glued to the silver box as my mom lifts the lid.
My mom’s hands disappear into the box and when they come out they’re holding what looks like a black photo album.
“It’s a memory book,” Claire announces.
My mom looks up at Claire and I can tell she already wants to cry. She opens the book and instantly smiles.
“The first few pages are just Chris,” Claire continues. “Then there are a lot of pages of the three of us. I hope you like it.”
“How could I not love it? Look at you, Chris, with your bowl haircut.”
Claire jumps out of her chair to peer over my mom’s shoulder, as if she didn’t just put the album together herself.
“I love that bowl haircut,” Claire says as she looks up and winks at me.
“Oh, my goodness!” my mom squeals. “Look at your prom picture.”
Now I jump out of my chair so I can lean over my mom’s other shoulder. I took Claire to her senior prom, even though I had dropped out almost two years earlier.
“Look at your Mohawk,” Claire teases me as she pokes my ribs.
“I can’t believe you wore that to Claire’s prom,” my mom complains.
I hated high school and Claire gave me permission to wear a Rolling Stones T-shirt and jeans. I wore a blazer over the shirt just so we could get into the dance hall at the hotel, then I took it off as soon as we were inside. When it was our turn to take pictures, I scooped Claire up into my arms at the last second before the camera flashed. The result was a really awkward picture where I’m sticking my tongue out and she’s flailing her arms with a terrified look on her face.
My mom gushes over a few more pages of pictures, mostly of Claire and me with a few of her and Claire sprinkled in. When she turns the last page, we all seem to freeze as we look at the final photograph. It’s the picture Claire took last week of Abby and me. She showed me the picture that night, but somehow seeing it tonight after all those other pictures just makes it seem bigger, more significant, like Abby doesn’t just belong in this memory book—she belongs with us, all three of us.
My mom traces her finger along the edge of the photograph. She’s seen pictures of Abby before, but this is the first time she’s seen Abby and me together.
After a long silence, Claire stands up straight. “I’m sorry if I upset you.”
My mom closes the book and Claire looks at me, her eyes pleading me to interpret this silence for her.
“Mom, are you okay?” I ask.
She nods as she sets the book gently inside the box. “I’m okay. I just wasn’t expecting that.” She heaves a deep sigh before she stands from her chair and turns to Claire. “Thank you for the most thoughtful birthday gift anyone has ever given me.”
Claire looks hesitant for a moment before they embrace, and I can’t help but feel an element of tension between them.
“I just wanted you to see what I saw,” Claire whispers as my mom lets her go.
“I know, sweetheart. Thank you.”
“You girls ready to go?”
Claire nods at me and my mom smiles as she closes the lid on the box.
Once we’re outside, my mom holds out her hand for the car keys. “It’s freezing out here. I’ll wait in the car while you two say your goodbyes.” She takes my keys and kisses Claire on the cheek before she sets off across the parking lot.
The first Friday of December has brought a deep chill to Raleigh. Claire instantly begins to shiver as we walk toward her car.
“Are you coming over?” I ask Claire. “I have a surprise for you.”
“It’s not another engagement ring, is it?”
“Too soon,” I say, clutching my chest dramatically.
“Oh, please,” she says, her teeth chattering. “What’s the surprise?”
I pull her into my arms and rub her back to warm her up. “Do you really want to know now?”
“Yes, I’m not big on surprises anymore.”
She slides her arms under my coat and around my waist to keep herself warm. I lean my head back and tilt her face up so I can look her in the eye.
“I’ve been talking to a real estate agent.” Her eyes widen, but I can’t tell if it’s with fear or excitement. “Don’t freak out.”
“I’m not freaking out.”
“It’s not for now. It’s for a few years down the road. I’m looking for an empty lot to build on.”
I wait for the recognition to dawn on her face as she realizes what I’m getting at.
She closes her eyes and sighs. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Claire, baby, look at me.”
She opens her eyes and smiles. “I thought we were supposed to wait until we were thirty.”
I kiss the tip of her nose and look her in the eye. “That was before I decided to give everything up. I don’t want any of that other stuff anymore. I’ll produce or I’ll write songs—anything that won’t take me far away from you… and our family. I want us to have a family. Not now. I want you to finish school and get your dream job first.”
She continues to smile as her gaze wanders over my face. “You know how many times I’ve imagined this conversation? Somehow, I always knew this would happen.”
“What did you know would happen?”
“This. I always knew you’d give it all up. But I don’t want you to.”
“Don’t say that, Claire.”
“No, I’m not telling you to go. I’m just being honest. I wish it wasn’t this way. I wish you could go and have your career and I could stay here and wait for you.”
“I don’t want you to wait for me.”
This feels like fucking déjà vu.
“Good, ‘cause I don’t want to wait for you,” she says as she tightens her arms around my waist.
Gazing into her eyes for a moment, I realize how everything has come full circle from the moment I left to this moment right here. I grab her face and kiss her slowly. Her breathing quickens as I nip her bottom lip and a needy whimper echoes in her throat, feeding the longing I’ve been burying for the past seven weeks. I want to pull up the skirt of her dress and pin her against the car right here, but I have to be patient.
I pull back, breathing heavily as I speak. “I have something else I want to show you.”
“What?” she murmurs as she moves down to kiss my neck.
“I got an apartment… in Chapel Hill.”
Chapter Thirteen
Claire
Listen
The butterflies in my stomach build and build with each mile I drive toward the address Chris texted me. He has to drop his mom off at home before he meets me there, so I’ll arrive before him. The address he gave me is very close to Spencer Hall. This makes me nervous, but not because I don’t want him nearby. It makes me nervous because I know I’m going to want to be near him all the time.
The building on West Franklin, just a half a mile down the road from the dorm, is brand new and very modern. The bottom level is comprised of restaurants and shops that surround a large courtyard bustling with people. Multiple water sculptures sparkle with light from the surrounding shops, which are also decorated with twinkling lights for the holiday season. It’s so modern, yet warm, like this is a community on its own.
I park at the Quickee Mart across Franklin because it looks like the underground parking is just for patrons and residents and I don’t need a parking ticket right now. Grabbing a hoodie out of the backseat of my car, I pull it on over my dress, not caring at all how bad it looks because it is freezing out here. After I cross the street and make it to the front entrance, I’m not surprised to find a doorman.
He nods and I smile at him as he opens the door for me. Once I’m inside, I’m overcome by a pleasant gust of warm air in the lobby. Pulling my hands out of the front pockets of my hoodie, I look to my left where a man, who looks about my age, stands behind a glossy mahogany desk.
“May I help you, miss?” he asks in a smooth voice.
“I’m waiting for someone, unless he’s already arrived. I’m here—” I take a few steps toward the desk so I can whisper, though there’s no one but us in the lobby, “—for Chris Knight.”
He smiles a knowing smile. “Yes, Mr. Knight just phoned and told me to tell you he will be here very soon.”
Mr. Knight?
This is too weird. Just as I begin to wander toward the shiny elevators, Chris’s voice grabs my attention.
“What’s up, Julian?” he says.
Turning around, Chris nods at the guy behind the counter as he walks toward me.
“Just the usual,” Julian replies. “Waiting on Pete, who’s late as fuck again.”
“Tell Pete I still owe him $50 for that beat-down on Tuesday.”
“You lucky you’re rich. The Lakers are gonna get raped this season.”
I watch as Chris approaches me near the elevators, my eyebrow cocked as he smiles.
“What?”
“Are you still limping?”
He walks right past me toward the elevator. “I’m fine. Are you ready to see my new place?”
“Don’t change the subject. Is your leg still bothering you?”
He presses the call button for the elevator, but he refuses to look at me. “As soon I’m done recording, I’m starting the physical therapy. I already booked the first appointment.”
Grabbing the front of his shirt, I force him to look at me as the elevator doors slide open. “You’d better not keep putting this off or I swear to god I will break your other leg.”
“You’re crazy,” he says, shaking his head as he pulls me into the elevator.
“You’re crazy.”
“Crazy for you.” He grabs my waist and pins me against the wall of the elevator as it begins to climb. His mouth hovers over mine as his hands hold me firmly in place. His breath is hot against my lips, but he doesn’t move.
“What are you waiting for?” I whisper.
“Same thing I’ve been waiting on for over a year,” he says as he lifts my dress and slides his hand down the front of my panties.
A shock of pleasure lights my nerves on fire and my entire body twitches. He watches my face as he strokes me and my eyelids flutter. I reach for the control panel to hit the stop button, but he pushes me into the back corner of the elevator so the panel is out of my reach.
“What are you doing? The doors are going to open. We’re gonna get caught.”
He smiles and slides his hand out of my panties just as the elevator doors open. “I love seeing that look on your face,” he says as he grabs my hand and pulls me out of the elevator. “The way your eyes roll back and you hold your breath whenever I touch you. It’s fucking hot.”
He lets go of my hand and smacks my butt as we walk down the corridor.
“You’re very happy,” I say with a laugh.
“Yes, I am.”
We reach the front door to his apartment and he opens the door by entering a code on a touchpad.
He looks at me as the lock clicks and he pushes the door open. “The code is 8992.”
“My birthday?”
“I wanted to make sure it was something you’d remember.”
I step inside and I can’t believe it’s already furnished. “How long have you been here?”
“Four days. The furniture came with it, but I changed a few things.”
He places his hand on the small of my back to guide me into the living room. The furnishings are all very modern and clean in shades of soft and dark gray with a few splashes of blue. But I can’t help but notice there’s no TV.