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“I tried,” I tell her before putting the phone down and turning on the speaker so I can put on my tie. “I couldn’t.”
“You couldn’t?”
I can hear the frustration clearly in her voice. Yeah, she’s disappointed in me now.
“He’s my best friend,” I tell her. “I couldn’t bear to let him down.”
“So you let me down instead. After all, I’m just… What am I, Ryker? A kissing partner? Someone to help you pass the time?”
I frown. “You know that’s not true.”
“Do I?”
I sigh. When she’s in a spiteful mood, she really is in a spiteful mood.
“You know me, Claire. I’m not like Asher. I don’t just go around dating and kissing women.”
“No, you’re not like Asher,” she agrees. “Asher has the balls to go after the women he wants. You don’t.”
Ouch.
I pick up the phone. “Claire…”
“You know what, Ryker? If you don’t want to be with me, you just have to say so.”
I open my mouth to answer, but before I can say anything, I hear a click. I look at the screen and realize Claire has ended the call.
Great.
I think about calling her back, but I don’t. Right now, she’s too upset to hear anything I’m saying. I should just call her later after her temper has simmered away. If I’m calling her, that is.
I put on my coat and slip my phone into the inside pocket.
The truth is, since speaking to Joel, I’ve been having second thoughts about seeing Claire. Is it worth lying to Joel? Losing his trust? Destroying the lifelong friendship that we have?
There are plenty of other women out there, none of whom are Joel’s little sisters. Surely I can be with one of them instead.
I guess it all comes down to the question Claire was asking earlier—Do I really want to be with her?
~
I realize I do.
I stayed away from Claire for the past few days. I didn’t even call her. But I haven’t stopped thinking of her.
Last night, I went drinking with my brothers and all I could think of was Claire. I had to endure listening to them talk about Stella and Violet even though talking about women is supposed to be against the rules—seriously, why do we have rules if no one follows them?—and I kept thinking about how nice it would be if I could brag about Claire, too.
She’s the only woman I want to brag about, the only one I want to tell them about. She’s the only one I want to come home to after a night of drinking with my brothers.
She’s not just a woman I’m going out with or kissing. She’s a woman I’ve known all my life, a woman I’ve wanted for a long time. No one else can replace her. No one should.
I grab my phone from the bedside table and try calling her. No answer.
I try again after five minutes. Then after ten. Then thirty. Still no answer.
She’s ignoring me. And I can’t blame her. I haven’t tried to get in touch with her for the past few days.
Is it too late for me to be with her?
I shake my head. No. I’m not giving up just yet. If Claire won’t talk to me on the phone, then I’ll just have to talk to her in person. I’ll go to her.
Then I realize that I don’t know where she lives. Last time, she asked me to pick her up from a cafe. And I can’t ask Joel.
Fuck.
For a few moments, I wonder what I should do. Ask Miller to find Claire’s address? Track her phone? Go to the cafe and hope that she shows up there?
I’m about to try that, since it seems like a better alternative than sitting here in my apartment, losing my mind, but as I pass by the kitchen, I remember something.
Claire said she was giving cooking lessons at a local school. Maybe I can find out where.Chapter SevenClaire
“Goodbye, Claire,” Dorothy tells me. She’s one of the students in my class, a married woman who just lost her job and has decided to devote herself to cooking for her husband.
I send her off with a smile. “Bye.”
After she’s gone, I grab a stool to sit on and rest my legs. That’s one of the hardest things about cooking—being on your feet the whole time. The same is true when you’re teaching people to cook.
But I’m not complaining. I love what I do. I love changing people’s lives through food. I love thinking that people can be happier and make their loved ones happier because of the dishes I teach them to cook. I love knowing that when they walk out of my class, they have something they’ll never forget, something they can make their own, something they can share with their friends or hand down to their children. I’m not just giving them recipes. I’m giving them fresh starts.
