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5
NATHAN
“Look, Daddy.”
I look up from my MacBook to find a sight in my office doorway that warms my heart. Claire is holding Lilly, who’s blissfully peaceful and freshly washed, wearing a clean outfit. And I didn’t have to do any of it myself.
That’s not what matters most. What matters is the two of them together, looking like this is how they were meant to be. Claire is glowing, smiling from ear to ear. “All washed up and coming by to say see you later since it’s almost time for a nap.”
Suddenly, her smile slips. “Is that okay? I probably should’ve cleared it with you if it was all right for us to disturb you.”
“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that. I can’t think of a nicer interruption.” And I’m not talking about Lilly, not completely. These past few days of getting to know each other and falling into a routine have been like a dream come true in countless ways. I don’t have to go through this alone, for one thing. For another, Claire fits into this house like a puzzle piece, clicking into place and completing the image. It took no effort.
Is this the way it’s supposed to be? The entire time Monica and I were together, I spent my days running the gauntlet. Trying to keep her happy, to give her what she wanted. That became the purpose of my life for longer than I want to admit, even to myself. Now, I understand there was never going to be any keeping her happy or keeping her with me. Even the baby she claimed to want before she got pregnant wasn’t enough.
Claire takes Lilly to her room to put her down, and before I can get back to work, my phone rings.
Right away, I growl at the sight of the name on the ID. The woman has a sixth sense. Most of the time, Monica wanted nothing to do with me, but she could somehow tell when I was feeling happy and satisfied. She always made it her business to get in the way of that. Even now, weeks after the last time I set eyes on her, she is determined to piss on my parade.
I ignore the call because I know why she’s making it and don’t feel like listening to her bullshit. “Don’t like having a credit card closed, do you?” I mutter before letting the call go to voicemail. She can’t have it both ways, walking out on us but expecting me to continue paying her credit card bill every month. For all I know, that’s her sole means of existence right now. I fail to see how that’s my problem any longer.
I fail to see why I wanted anything to do with her in the first place, especially now that I have Claire. Claire who genuinely loves children. Claire who cares about family, tradition, and togetherness. We’ve had a few conversations during our quiet moments while she’s fixing bottles or folding clothes, and I am cooking dinner or trying to get a little extra work done. Raised by her grandparents, always wishing she could’ve had a big family. She’s the kind of girl who would rather stay in and watch a movie or read a book than go partying—the complete opposite of my ex-wife, who I’m fairly sure hasn’t read a book since graduating college. And even then, I’m sure she found a way around it.
What was I thinking? How did I convince myself there was anything real between us?
Probably because I had never met anyone like Claire. I didn’t know how things could be. Now, sitting at my computer with my concentration completely broken, I can’t help but ask myself why I couldn’t have found Claire before now. The answer is obvious, of course. She would’ve been too young. Just another example of fate being a real pain in the ass.
She wanders past my office again on her way to the kitchen, then backtracks. “Can I fix you something to eat?”
This isn’t the first time we’ve had this discussion. “You don’t have to do that. You’re here to take care of Lilly, and you already do a great job of that.”
“I want to be sure you’re not working too hard and forgetting about yourself.” She’s so sweet and sincere. There’s no doubt in my mind she means it.
“Were you going to fix something for yourself?”
“I was thinking about a grilled cheese sandwich.”
“That sounds pretty good. Maybe I could use one, too.”
The strangest thing of all happens, and it takes my breath away: she beams. She doesn’t roll her eyes like she wishes she hadn’t offered. Her smile widens. She’s satisfied. I still wonder if she’s real. I must’ve made her up.
I follow her to the kitchen, not because I need to supervise and definitely not because I have nothing better to do—the deeper I get back into my work, the deeper it pulls me in. But even with a to-do list that’s a mile long, I would much rather be in the kitchen with her. She’s a magnet, and there’s no resisting her. We don’t even have to talk. It’s enough to be in the same room, with her at the stove and me answering emails on my phone.
“Do you think you’ll be all right here for a little bit if I have to run into the office?” I hate asking the question, but I need to grab a few things I don’t have here at home.
“Sure, no problem. Everything okay?”
“Oh, it’s fine. I won’t be long, either.”
“She should be down for a while.” Claire flips a sandwich onto a plate—golden brown, sizzling. “And even if she’s not, I’m sure I can handle it. Part of my job is making sure you can do yours, right?”
As much as I resent the opening of the front door and the announcement of Keaton’s presence, maybe I should be glad he chose this precise moment to show up without warning. Otherwise, I might have done something unforgivably stupid, like tell the girl I love her. I must have been even more starved for sweetness than I thought if it’s so easy for her to crack open my heart the way she does.
“Want a sandwich?” Claire is all smiles and cheerfulness as she greets my brother once he saunters into the kitchen.
“No, thanks. I had something on the way over here.” She turns away, and he checks out her ass. I have to take a huge bite of my sandwich to keep my mouth full rather than tell him to keep his eyes to himself. Maybe he can be all easy-going and casual about us both being into her, but we are not the same. And he can say all he wants that it matters how things go here, with Lilly. But if everything ends up falling apart with Claire, it’s not Keaton’s life that’s going to be completely fucked. It’s mine.
“You got here just in time.” Claire plates her own sandwich and leans against the counter, munching on half. Completely innocent. “Nathan is heading out to the office.”
