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Clara hesitated. “Okay. Just a few minutes.”
She preceded him down a flight of steps. At the bottom, she waited for him. Her words nagged at him. He couldn’t let go of the thought that she was putting so much pressure on herself. If she wasn’t careful, she’d burn out. He believed that was what happened to him—what had caused his car accident. If he hadn’t pushed himself so hard, he’d have been more alert, and his reaction would have been faster.
There was something else bothering him. He moved next to her. “Why does your business have to be a huge success?”
She waved away the question. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter. Talk to me.”
She quietly fidgeted with her purse strap.
“Come on, Clara. We used to be able to share everything with each other. Are you going to pretend like we’re strangers now?”
She sighed. “If you must know, I can’t go back to DC as a failure. That’s what my family thought would happen when I told them I was going to start a wedding-planning business. They couldn’t understand why I would do something like that when I could work at the family’s foundation. They thought it was a waste of my education.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth and glanced away as though she’d said more than she’d intended.
“I can’t imagine they thought that—”
Her gaze narrowed in on him. “Are you saying I’m lying?”
“No. Of course not. What I meant was that I know how much your family loves you.”
Sadness reflected in her eyes. “But I just couldn’t live with my father’s disapproval and, worse, his disappointment.”
This was definitely not the time for this conversation. But seeing as how he was the one to start it, he needed to keep going. “I’m so sorry he made you feel that way. But I know he loves you.”
“I know that, too. That’s what made it worse. Disappointing people who don’t matter to me is one thing, but disappointing those I love is almost unbearable. First, there was my career choice, and then there was the embarrassment of the wedding cancellation.”
“And that’s my fault. I’m sorry.” Guilt weighed on him. “I never meant to come between you and your family.”
She shook her head. “You didn’t. I had to get away and have a chance to make a future for myself, someplace where people don’t make a big deal out of me being a Harrington.”
The maître d’ appeared, wearing a pristine black and white suit. “Sir, the room is all set up, and your table is ready.”
It took a moment for Andrew to gather his thoughts. He’d almost uttered his feelings for her and how much he wanted her back, but he wasn’t sure she felt the same way. And by confessing his feelings for her, he might scare her off. That was the last thing he wanted to do. Having Clara in his life was important to him, even if it was just as a friend.
He held out his arm to escort her to their table. “I hope you enjoy this evening.”
She didn’t move, staring at him as though she could read his mind. Were his feelings that obvious? The breath caught in his lungs. Did she know he’d never stopped loving her?
When her hand slipped into the crook of his arm, a pent-up breath rushed past his lips. Maybe she couldn’t read all of his thoughts. He guided her into the private dining room that had been decorated with white twinkle lights. Their table was illuminated by tapered candles. In the background, the crooning of a sax lilted through the room.
“This is beautiful.” There was a note of awe in Clara’s voice. “But I didn’t request all of this.” And then she stopped walking and turned to him. “Was this your doing?” When he nodded, she asked, “For me?”
Again, he nodded. “I thought with all you do for others that you deserve a special evening.”
After he’d held the chair for her and then taken a seat across the table from her, she gazed into his eyes. “No one’s ever done something like this for me. But you shouldn’t have been so extravagant.”
“What’s the point of having money if you can’t make people happy with it? You are happy, aren’t you?”
She smiled. “Very much so.”
The thump-thump in his chest picked up its pace, keeping time with the music. One by one, the courses were served—shrimp cocktail, wild mushroom tortellini, and spring salad with a side of fresh-baked bread and cinnamon butter, all of Clara’s favorites.
“This is delicious,” Clara said, making quick work of devouring the tortellini.
“I agree. I’ll have to eat here again.”
Her refilled fork hovered above the plate. “Do you think you’ll ever make it back here again? I mean once you get back to work?”
