“Chris,” she says, poking Chris’s arm before she turns to me. “And Claire.”
I don’t recognize her and judging by the puzzled look on Chris’s face he doesn’t recognize her either. Her cheeks are hollow and her brown hair hangs all the way down to her butt in a long ponytail. Nothing about her is familiar to me, but Chris quickly recovers his wits—or his memory—and gives her his crowd smile. Ugh. I have a love/hate relationship with his crowd smile.
“Priscilla,” he says, and her gray eyes light up. “Can you believe how long it’s been?”
She hands me my menu without taking her eyes off Chris. “Where the heck have you been? Oh, wait. I know where you’ve been. You’re a friggin’ rock star now! But you look exactly the same! Except that leg. What the heck happened there?”
Chris goes into a brief explanation of the motorcycle accident, carefully leaving out the fact that he was out riding his bike that day to try to forget how upset he was over Abigail and me. She asks if she can sign his cast before she finally takes our order.
He orders the usual Denver omelet then turns to me. “Do you want the usual?”
I don’t know if he really remembers what I used to get, so I decide to test him. “Sure.”
He turns to Priscilla and she waits with a curious expression as he thinks for a moment. “Belgian waffle with bacon and eggs over-medium.”
Priscilla shakes her head as she jots it down. “Too cute.”
Once Priscilla is gone, I glare at him across the table. “Do you always have to show off?”
“I’m a performer. What do you expect?”
“A little humility.”
“Hey, I’m humble. I don’t go around bare-chested, wearing fucking leather pants with my shirt hanging out my back pocket.”
“Because you know I’d make fun of you if you did that.”
“No. I only do it on Wednesdays.”
Hump day.
I ignore the jealous roar inside me as I imagine how many girls have been on this end of his charming little act.
“Are you okay?” he asks as Priscilla shows up with our coffee. He flashes her a tight smile and she quickly sets off.
“I’m fine.” Just getting a glimpse of what life with you would be like now that you’re God.
“You don’t look fine. I know what you need.”
I need to not be here. I should be in my dorm moping like I have been the last few Sundays since Adam broke up with me. Instead, I’m sitting across the table from the one person, other than myself, who I can actually hold responsible for breaking us up. What is wrong with me?
“Chris, no offense, but I’m beginning to think that even I don’t know what I need.”
His smile fades and he stares at my hands for a while before he reaches across the table and grabs my left hand. He rubs his thumb over my knuckles for a moment before he brings my hand to his lips and lays a soft kiss on my ring finger.
“I know what you need.” He keeps rubbing my ring finger between his thumb and forefinger and it’s making me nervous. “It’s the same thing you’ve always needed since the day we met. You need your home.”
I swallow hard as I try not to let him see how relieved I am that he didn’t do something crazy like proposing to me in Angie’s Restaurant. A year ago, I would have loved for Chris to propose to me over a casual breakfast. I was deep in the throes of self-pity over the breakup and I wanted nothing more than for him to walk through my door and tell me he couldn’t live another day without me. Now, the thought of Chris proposing to me actually fills me with panic.
“I have a home. I live with Senia.”
“Yeah, but how about the holidays and the summer. You’re coming home, aren’t you?”
I pull my hand out of his and he narrows his eyes at me. “I promised your mom I would be there for Christmas. I’m not going to break my promise.” He shakes his head then stares out the window. “Why are you shaking your head? You can’t expect me to commit to spending every holiday at home. You’re really putting me on the spot here.”
He sighs before he turns back to me and looks me in the eye. “You want everything Claire. And to me you are everything. Do you have any fucking idea what that feels like?”
“Are you trying to make me feel guilty for being confused?”
“Did you not hear what I just said? This is it for me. I may have possibly blown my record deal and even my career to be here with you. I know you didn’t ask me to do it and I’m not asking you to drop everything for me, but can you at least pretend to care?”
“I do care. I—”
Priscilla arrives with our plates of food, one of her eyebrows raised, as she is keenly aware she has interrupted a heated discussion. She sets our plates down and leaves without asking if we need anything else.
We eat in silence, though both of us seem to have lost our appetites. When we make it back to my car, he grabs my hand before I can turn the key in the ignition. I close my eyes as I wait for him to speak.
“Can you look at me?” I open my eyes and turn to him as he releases my hand. “I need to tell you something I probably should have told you a few weeks ago.”
“What?”
He looks down at the console between us for a moment and I recognize that expression of guilt. “After I saw Abigail, I wasn’t in my right mind. I didn’t sleep that whole night.”
I think back to that day and remember how I lay awake the entire night cursing myself for running out of the hospital instead of holding it together for just a few more minutes.
“I didn’t sleep either.”
“Yeah, but I did something.”
“What did you do?” I ask carefully.
“I checked out of the hospital early and called Tristan to pick me up.”
He doesn’t have to say anything else. I already know where this conversation is leading.
“You fucked someone?”
He winces at these words. “Not technically. Tristan took me home and some girls came over. I was fucked up on pain pills and one of them gave me a blowjob.”
I was with Adam when this happened so I technically shouldn’t care, but I’m furious.
“Is that how you deal with stuff now? By getting fucked up?”
“No, it’s not, but you were with… him and you weren’t answering my calls. I knew that it could possibly be the last time I ever see my daughter again and you didn’t even get to share that moment with me. I was fucked up even without the pain pills.”
“Why can’t you say his name?”
“I don’t want to say his name.”
I turn the key in the ignition and try not to think the obvious. Chris is the love of my life, but he’s still not ready to grow up.
“Are you mad?” he asks as I pull out of the parking lot.
“Of course, I’m angry. Don’t act like I have no right to be angry either because that will only make me more angry.” I shake my head as I change lanes so I can head for the highway entrance. “No one knows how to love me like you and no one knows how to hurt me like you.”
He’s quiet the whole drive home. I park next to the curb instead of in the driveway because I don’t know if I can go in right now. We sit in silence for a while before he turns to me.
“I’m sorry if I hurt you, but I’m not sorry for being honest with you. You deserve nothing less.” He kisses my cheek then reaches into the back seat to grab his crutches. “You don’t have to come in if you don’t want to, but I know my mom would love it if you did. I’d love it, too.”
His lips slowly curl into a smile and I press my lips together to keep from returning the favor.
“Come on. You know you want to come in,” he coaxes me.
“I hate you,” I mutter as I pull the keys out of the ignition.
“I hate you, too,” he says with a soft smile that makes the breath catch in my throat. “I hate you from the bottom of my heart.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Chris
I DON’T WANT CLAIRE TO do anything she’ll regret later, which is why I’m going to make sure this is too good to regret.
When we step inside the house, I’m hit with a cool gust of air-conditioned air, but the house is completely quiet. Claire enters after me and I hand her my keys.
“Take the house key off the chain and make a copy for yourself.”
“I don’t need a house key,” she says, pushing the keys back into my hand. “I’m too busy to come visit when no one’s here.”
“You’re not visiting. This is your house.”
She looks away from me as she closes the front door. “Where’s your mom?”
“I thought she was here. She probably left to run errands.”
I set off toward the kitchen on my crutches, but I don’t hear her footsteps behind me. When I turn around, she’s still standing just inside the front door.
“Oh, come on. It’s not like we’ve never been alone in this house.”
She rolls her eyes before she follows me into the kitchen and takes a seat on the barstool at the breakfast bar. She doesn’t look much different than she did the first time we had sex three years ago. I lean on the other side of the bar just staring at her for a moment as I remember that day.
“Why are you staring at me like that? You’re creeping me out.”
I chuckle as I push off the bar and limp to the other side. “I was thinking of the first time we had sex. You were sitting right there before I took you upstairs.”
She glares at me, unblinking, before she replies. “We are not having sex.”
“I know, but you asked why I was staring at you.”
“You know, Chris, if you wanted to be nice you’d keep stuff like that to yourself, even if I ask you.” She scoots her barstool farther away from me. “Can you call Tasha to see what’s going on with Abigail?”
“I called her last night before I went to your dorm. I wanted to see if she had some good news I could give you in person.” She looks at me with that heartbroken expression because she knows what’s coming. “Nothing.”
“You should be lying down,” she says as she slides off the barstool and rounds the breakfast bar to retrieve my crutches from where they’re resting against the counter. “Do you need me to help you upstairs or are you good?”
“You’re leaving?”
She nods curtly and I can tell she’s trying to hold in her disappointment long enough to make it out to her car where she’ll probably cry.
“You don’t have to try to be strong. I feel like this whole situation with Abby is the worst thing I’ve ever had to go through and it’s not even close to how you must be feeling. You can talk to me.”
“I’m not going to cry. I’ve been crying way too much lately. I need to just be strong for a little while. Can you please just let me do that?”
I shake my head. “You’re such a nerd.” I get onto my crutches and nod toward the stairs. “Come watch a movie with me. I bought a TV for your bedroom so you have something to watch when you’re home.”
I don’t tell her what else I bought for her room because I’m sort of regretting buying it now.
“When do I ever have time to watch TV?” she says as she follows me up the stairs.
She must be curious about the TV.
“You used to watch that Vampire Diaries shit all the time. Don’t pretend like you’re some anti-TV hipster.”
I open the door to her bedroom and the sight of it makes my heart pound with anxiety.
She looks confused when she sees it. “You got me a bigger bed?”
“You’re going to think this is totally pathetic, but I got it a couple of weeks ago after you stopped taking my calls when I was still planning to go to L.A. tomorrow.”