“Thank you,” Claire whispers. Darla doesn’t hold back, either—she seems to sense that Claire needs this, wrapping her shockingly strong arms around Claire and giving her a good squeeze and a hearty pat on the back before they part.
“Good luck, sweets,” LeAnn says, giving Claire a wink and a gentle tap on the hip before she heads to the conversation pit with her girl.
Claire steels herself, takes a deep breath of smoky air, and she steps through the sliding door.
It’s like stepping into a different world, crossing that threshold and closing the door behind her. The noise of the party muffles. It’s darker out here, just the pool lights flickering white and blue, and the stuffy heat cedes to fresh night air.
Jackie is alone. She’s sitting in a lounge chair at the edge of the pool, bundled in a blanket with her bare knees drawn up toher chest. She’s not wearing any shoes. There’s a martini in her hand, but it’s largely untouched.
Jackie doesn’t turn when she hears the noise of the party spill through the door, or when it closes again. She’s staring listlessly at the water. She’s not wearing her usual makeup, either, and her hair is flat and un-styled—she looks small and sad and beautiful.
Claire’s foot catches on a patio chair. It skids loudly across the stones, and Jackie starts to turn.
“I told you all from the start, no swimming this time. Go back—”
Jackie’s eyes fall on her. There are bags beneath them, dark and heavy, and her cheeks look hollower than the last time Claire saw her, but she’s still utterly gorgeous. For one perfect moment, Jackie’s face brightens.
“Claire,” Jackie breathes.
Chapter 25
“I need to talk to you,” Claire says, before Jackie can say another word.
Jackie’s face falls quickly from joy to the same aching sadness Claire heard over the phone.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Jackie says. She’s wringing her hands, now, and her eyes dart around the yard like she’s looking for an exit besides the one Claire is standing in front of.
“Maybe it isn’t,” Claire says. She’s breathing hard, not from exertion but from the fact that her heart is beating a mile a minute. She surges forward, sitting in the chair next to Jackie’s and grabbing gently at her blanket. “But I’m here anyways.”
“It’s almost midnight. You should be with your husband.”
“I know what time it is,” Claire fires back. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”
“Claire…” Jackie whispers. It’s a broken sort of sound, this time, cracking right in the middle of Claire’s name; she looks past Claire through the door, as if she’s expecting someone to call out in protest. As if Pete might be lurking in Claire’s shadow.
The door slides open. The party noise spills back in, and a group of five or six people stumble towards the pool. Jackie protests half-heartedly, but they pay her no mind—they tip into the pool, clothes and all, while more partiers follow in their wake. The cold is apparently not a deterrent.
Claire doesn’t particularly want to have this conversation in front of the entire party, so she takes Jackie’s hand amidst the splashing and laughter, pulling her up. The blanket falls from Jackie’s shoulder as Claire guides her insistently into the crowd in the living room. She starts towards the bedrooms, but Jackie pulls her arm taut.
“Where are we going?”
“Ideally somewhere private,” Claire says.
“The bedrooms are all occupied,” Jackie says. She looks utterly exhausted. “They even took over the basement.”
Claire holds fast to her hand. If the bedrooms and darkroom are occupied, what options are there? The bathroom, maybe, or…
Casting around for anything at all that might be her saving grace, Claire’s eyes land on Theo.
He’s watching them with interest, with a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other. She doubts that he can hear their conversation, but their body language must be obvious. He raises an eyebrow, and with his drink in hand he points to an option Claire hadn’t considered. The walk-in coat closet next to the front door. It’s just big enough for two.
Claire nods at him, and with a wry smile he disappears into the crowd.
Jackie doesn’t protest being dragged there, perhaps because it’s so unexpected. Claire guides her inside first, closing the door quickly behind them, and it’s a tight fit. There are coats hanging to the right and left, leaving just a narrow corridor to stand in, and Jackie is mere inches away. Claire grabs for the cord to turn the single lightbulb on; even lit so harshly, Jackie is still breathtaking.
“Were you ever going to tell me you were moving?” Claire asks bluntly. So close up, she can hear Jackie’s sharp, surprised inhale. “Or were you just going to disappear?”
“I can’t talk about this right now,” Jackie says. She reaches for the door handle, but Claire is in the way.
