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“What’s bothering you? I can tell something’s bothering you.”
She looks up at me with the guiltiest look in her eyes. I don’t have to hear a word to know what she’s going to say.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Claire
I CAN TELL BY THE way Adam’s nostrils are flaring that he already knows what I’m going to confess.
“Oh, God,” I whisper as I attempt to gather the courage to say the words he both deserves and doesn’t deserve to hear.
He shakes his head slightly. “No fucking way.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“No, don’t say that.” I reach for him and he instantly backs away then rises from the bed. “Please don’t fucking say that.”
“I am. I’m so fucking sorry. I was just so hurt. I thought it was over.”
He clutches chunks of his hair as he takes deep breaths in a vain attempt to calm himself. He’s about to explode and I know my heart is going to absorb the full impact of the blast.
“Please just sit down so we can talk.”
He keeps shaking his head. “I can’t fucking believe this. This is what happened in my worst fucking nightmare, but I never expected it to come true.”
I scramble off the bed and he steps away from me. “Adam, please just listen to me. You were gone. I… I thought I wasn’t good enough for you. I thought I didn’t fit into your life and you were just tired of dealing with me.”
I grab the front of his shirt and he closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to look at me.
“Please look at me.”
He shakes his head and I can see the anguish in his face, even with his eyes closed. “I can’t.”
I take his face in my hands and he finally opens his eyes, but he looks at the ceiling. “Adam. I am begging you to look at me.”
He takes a deep breath through his nose before he finally looks me in the eye. “I asked you to wait for me.”
“That’s not what you said. You said you didn’t expect me to wait for you.”
He shakes his head again with sheer disappointment. “It was four weeks. Just four fucking weeks.”
My hands drop to my sides as the tears fall down my face. This is it. I can feel it. I squat down on the floor as I try to catch my breath.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
I have to get out of here. I know he doesn’t want me here anymore, but I feel like I might pass out again if I stand up.
“I thought I’d understand if this happened,” he says, and his voice is so thick with emotion it makes my entire body ache. “Maybe I just need to be alone for a while.”
“No,” I whisper as I place my hand on the edge of the mattress to try to pull myself up.
I’m overcome with a hot dizziness and I lean on the bed to steady myself as I try to draw in deep breaths.
“What’s wrong?” he asks as he reaches for my arm to help me.
“I’m fine,” I say, pushing his hand away. “I’ll let you be alone.
I push myself off the bed and take another deep breath. He doesn’t look at me as I move around him to leave the bedroom.
Right when I reach the bedroom door, he speaks. “You didn’t come here while I was gone.”
I stop in the doorway as I try to figure out what he means by this. “What are you talking about?”
I turn around and I want to die when I see the look on his face. He finally looks more hurt than angry.
“I told you I left something for you in my apartment, but you never came.”
“I was hurt.” I can barely speak the words as the knot in my throat swells.
He nods and I take this as my signal to leave, but I don’t want to go. We stand in silence for a moment before he comes to me. He stops right in front of me and I draw in a long, stuttered breath. He reaches up and I close my eyes as he wipes the tears from my cheeks with the back of his fingers.
“I’m sorry that I hurt you.” I open my eyes and his eyes roam over every feature of my face. “You can stay here. I’m going for a drive.”
“Please don’t go.”
“I have to.”
He squeezes past me and I resist the urge to grab onto him in desperation. I don’t watch as he leaves, but I can hear the front door as it closes.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chris
TRISTAN KICKS MY FOOT TO get my attention and I look up from my guitar. “What?”
Tristan is the classic brooding musician, which is why girls can’t resist him. He’s the one who always sits in the corner at parties with a beer in his hand and a scowl on his face. He’s only ever shared one song he wrote with me. He’s secretive as hell; even more than Claire. But this is one of Tristan’s best qualities. He’s extremely loyal. He’ll never blab my secrets to anyone, which is why I still can’t figure out why I haven’t told him about what’s going on between Claire and me. It probably has to do with the fact that I’ve always felt like Tristan had a thing for Claire before we broke up.
“What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you strung out on Claire again?”
I shake my head as I try to also shake the feeling that Claire is being pulled further away from me by the second. It doesn’t feel like there’s just physical distance between us right now.
I thought I knew Claire until two months ago when I realized she was in love with a guy she had known less than a month. It took me nearly a year to break down her walls. Before we broke up, I wouldn’t think anything of it if she told me she was going to spend the night next door to her ex-boyfriend’s apartment. But Claire is not the same person she was before we broke up.
“Don’t talk about Claire like she’s any other fucking girl.”
Tristan raises an eyebrow at me. He’s not used to Claire and me being back together so I’ll let this slide, though I’m feeling unreasonably angry right now.
He sighs before he leans back on the sofa. “I don’t know what the deal is, but the answer is always call her. Girls love that shit. Whenever something is fucked up or uncertain, all it takes is a fucking phone call to fix it.”
I don’t want to hear him compare Claire to the chicks he fucks so I grab one of my crutches and head for the garage with my guitar. He doesn’t ask where I’m going because he probably assumes I’m taking his advice, and he’s right.
I flip the light switch inside the garage and feel a pang of longing when I see the empty space where my bike used to be parked. It seems like everything in my life has gone to shit the past couple of months. Only the past week have things finally begun to turn around—and now this.
I sit on the concrete steps that lead down from the house into the garage, lay my guitar in my lap, and call Claire. She said she would call me when she went to sleep. It’s not even eight yet, but I don’t want to wait anymore.
“Hello.”
Her voice is thick and raspy, like she’s been crying.
“Claire, babe, where are you?”
She lets out a soft whimper and I know I’m too late.
“Chris.”
“Babe, just come home and we can talk about it.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. I promise whatever happened we can work it out.” Her sobs come suddenly and like fucking shotgun blasts to my heart. “Claire, we’ve been through worse. I don’t want to fucking lose you again. Just come home.”
I had planned to tell her about the fact that Abby
’s parents have decided they don’t want to proceed with the open adoption when I saw her this weekend. I couldn’t bear to break this news to her over the phone. I was actually a little relieved when she said she wasn’t coming over because I was dreading breaking her heart. I should be angry enough to try to hurt her with this news right now, but I can’t. Claire and I have been through enough heartache this past year to ever deliberately hurt each other.
“I know you’re feeling confused right now, but that’s okay,” I begin. I take a deep breath before I continue with the one thing I hope can bring her back. “I want you to know that no matter what, I will always love you and this will always be your home. No matter what happens between us, please don’t forget my mom.”
She’s sobbing harder now and I let out a deep sigh as I prepare myself for what will probably be the most painful three minutes of my life.
“This is the song I wrote for you and Abby.” I place the call on speakerphone, lay the phone on the concrete step next to me, and try to ignore the soft sounds of sobs in the background as I play the first notes.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Claire
