He snickered. “Like I didn’t know that. I have no idea what to do to show her I love her, that I’m invested in our relationship, and I never want to leave her again. She’s always so busy, it’s not like I can give her the gift of time or anything.”
And he had done exactly what she’d been afraid of him doing and left her. She probably thought he was stewing in stubbornness, when in fact he just had no idea how to make it right in a way she deserved.
Linc smiled. “Yeah, time turners don’t really exist. So that’s out…”
Raking a hand through his hair, Elliott slunk lower in his seat. Perhaps just talking at Linc would prompt some kind of brilliant way to fix things. “She’s lonely. Mason moved in with his dad, Cat is leaving for college, the house is falling down around her ears. She doesn’t go out much. I mean, I could probably fill her freezer with ice cream, but I don’t think that’s what we’re going for.”
He bolted upright. “Wait. What if I take care of some of the things around her house that need fixing? The kitchen faucet is leaky, and there are floor tiles stacked next to her kitchen door that need laying. The fence in her yard needs to be painted. A storm took out part of the decking in her backyard a million years ago and she hasn’t fixed that yet either.”
He tapped his chin, not waiting for an answer. “She mentioned she’d love to sit outside more, but when she does she just gets pissed at the list of things that needs to get fixed that she doesn’t have time for. What if I fix it all for her?”
Again, not waiting for Linc to chime in with an opinion, he kept going. “I mean, I don’t know that I could find a way to get her out of the house long enough to do it all by myself, but I could try, right? I could make a start and just do a bit at a time. I could mow the lawn, put down mulch, see if she’s killed every plant in the garden or if there’s a chance for any of them.”
“I mean, it doesn’t say I love you forever and want to be with you, but it would make her life a bit more comfortable for her, right? And if I just keep showing up in her space and refusing to leave, that’ll show her I’m sticking around, right?”
“Do you want me to answer any of these questions? Or do you just want to keep riffing until you come to a decision? I’m really not sure. Not for nothing though,”—Linc picked up a pen from the desk and pointed it at him—“that last one sounds dangerously close to stalking, Coach. That’s illegal.”
“Does it sound like something? I can’t say I’m known for my ability to fix my fuck-ups. And we know from my divorce history that I don’t know shit about women. You’re probably more experienced in that area than I am.”
Linc laughed. “I had it easy with Cleo compared to some of the guys. But I think even if Clare never wants to see you again, making her life a little easier as a single mom is a noble goal all the same. You know, we could probably help you with that. If you’d let us anyway.”
“Help me, how?”
“Oh, I dunno. It’s not like you have a bunch of strapping young men who are competent enough to wield a paintbrush or anything.” He scratched his chin. “Some of us could probably even handle a wrench or a saw.”
Elliott held up a hand. “One thing at a time. I’m not sure I’m ready to hand some of the guys a paintbrush, never mind anything more dangerous.”
“That’s fair. But think about it, Coach. Many hands make light work and all that jazz, isn’t that what you always say? You’ve had our backs for years—let us have yours for a change. Let us help you get the girl back.”
Linc’s smile and hopeful tone were infectious. Elliott was less than convinced it would be enough to win Clare back, but with any luck it would be enough to open the door to peace talks. And with even more luck, he’d find a way to convince her he wasn’t going to leave her ever again.
He’d always thought of himself as an unlucky person, but the universe had brought her into his life twice—didn’t that make him the luckiest man in the world?
Chapter 19
Clare
Clare was half a pint of cookie dough ice cream, a share size bag of sour cream Lays, and three retro chick flicks deep. She’d watchedSleepless in Seattle, My Best Friend’s Wedding, Pretty Woman,andRunaway Bride.Clearly she’d been feeling a strong Julia Roberts vibe for the evening. She didn’t disappoint, either. Neither did Meg.
Clare mouthed along to almost every single word ofPretty Woman—her absolute favorite. And when Vivian—aka Julia—said“the bad stuff is easier to believe,”Clare broke down into her ice cream. Why was it that the bad stuff about yourself was always easier to believe than the good?
Why was it that it took years of hard work to accept positive things about yourself, and a fraction of a second to believe the negative?
Why was it that the negative shit stayed with you for your entire life and the positive rolled off you as quickly as it had been said?
She stabbed at the ice cream with her spoon, no longer hungry and instead, verging on nauseous. What kind of asshole just disappeared—not for the first fucking time either—for weeks on end because shit got hard?
Wasn’t shitalwayshard? Wasn’t that just being a fucking grown up?
Herfucking asshole. That’s who.
Her stomach churned, the creamy dessert roiling around in her gut like it was a damned ice cream maker. She’d fallen for him even harder the second time, and yet, the outcome was still the same as the first.
Stab. Stab. Stab. Jabbing the spoon into the ice cream wasn’t at all necessary, but it sure helped channel some of her rage. Stab. Stab.
The front door burst open and Mason trudged into the house, pulling his suitcase behind him. “I’m back.”
That was all she got. The Sperm Donor was nowhere to be seen, and Mason slammed the door shut before dumping his case at the bottom of the stairs and bolting up to his room.
