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He forced a swallow, choking on the memories of rejection and embarrassment. He couldn’t sit here any longer, watching her watch him so carefully, waiting to see what he’d do. Feeling sorry for him.
Being unable to walk out the door and drive away on his own was a particularly low blow. He slid his phone out of his pocket and pulled up the Uber app.
He couldn’t look at her as he stood. “Okay. Gertrude, come here, girl.”
Claire let out a shaky breath. “Graham...”
The front door swung open.
“I’m back!” Reagan sang, dancing in with her suitcases. “First, notice this killer tan. Then tell me how much you missed me.”
When neither Graham nor Claire responded, she paused and looked around, taking in the tense atmosphere. He picked up his dog and cradled her in his hand against his chest, tucking his crutches under his other arm.
“Um.” She cleared her throat. “Should I come back?”
“No,” Graham said.
He went for the door, casting one final glance at Claire as he went.
“I was just leaving.”
25
She never said she was sorry.
Five days had passed and even though Claire replayed her conversation with Graham in her head a million times, she just realized she never told him that.
She was so, so sorry. She’d been out of her damn mind to think she and Graham, two friends with such volatile chemistry, could have a casual sexual relationship. It was like tossing a lit match onto a pile of dry pine needles and expecting it not to catch fire.
She couldn’t quite find it in her to be sorry she’d kissed him, though. Or touched him, or slept with him. She could still feel his lips against hers, his rough hands tracing her skin. As long as she lived, she’d never forget the way he looked at her that last time they’d made love. Right then, she’d known. Known she’d lost control and things had gone too far for both of them. But seconds before she’d been in a dream where he’d died, and she couldn’t seem to muster the self-control to stay away from him.
As she curled up in bed, she wondered what he was doing right this minute. According to Mia he’d been crashing on Chris’s couch in the apartment above the outdoor store. At first, she’d thought it would just be for a day or two, but yesterday while she was at work Graham and Chris had come over to take most of his belongings from the condo.
Only the furniture remained.
She even missed Gertrude, for crying out loud.
Chris’s apartment could only be accessed by stairs from the back hallway of the store—how was Graham maneuvering those with his crutches? His cast was supposed to come off Monday, something she’d initially planned to be present for.
She wished she could see his face when it happened.
A light knock sounded at the doorway and Reagan peeked her head in. “How we doing?”
Claire gave a thumbs-down.
The bed dipped as Reagan sat, turning to face Claire and crossing her legs. “Ready to tell me what happened yet?”
Her roommate had been patient. Claire had worked several days since Reagan witnessed the awkward conclusion of Claire and Graham’s relationship, and on the days she hadn’t, she’d pretty much stayed in her room. Claire would have been pulling her hair out by now if their roles were reversed and Reagan hadn’t relayed the full story.
With a heavy sigh, Claire pushed herself up to a half slouch, half sitting position with her upper back against the headboard. She rubbed the heels of her hands over her eyes. She probably looked like a total mess.
“While you were gone, Graham and I sort of... Well, we kind of...”
“Hooked up?” Reagan finished, sounding unsurprised.
“Yeah. Well, it started as that, anyway. After his accident I started sleeping in his bed since he couldn’t talk and I was worried he might need something in the middle of the night. Then he got better, and I stayed.”
Reagan nodded as if that made complete sense.
