A Ring And A Rainbow. Deanna Talcott
remember things a little differently than I do,” she said, nailing him with a look that spoke volumes. “Because I don’t remember being asked, I remember being told.”
“I wasn’t going to turn down that job!”
“So you turned me down instead.”
“Don’t say it like that!” He raked a hand over the top of his head. “I didn’t turn you down, and I didn’t turn away from you.” Claire watched as the muscles in his jaw thumped and his mouth went thin, hard. “I needed to move on. I couldn’t bear the thought of spending the rest of my life in that station, pumping gas, giving directions and filling the paper-towel dispenser every morning. I thought, ultimately, I’d be doing the right thing by you. That we’d both be better off.”
“Well, maybe you did do the right thing,” she said. “Because when you left I found out how strong I was.” She purposely gave herself a moment to pull herself together, to say the one thing she needed to say. “I found out that I could stop loving you.”
Hurt flickered in the depths of his gold-flecked eyes. “Claire…”
She shook her head, remembering him in his youth. She refused to submit to the feelings coursing through her as he stood before her now—a man determined and confident, one who thrived in his single, solitary life. “No. Don’t say anything, because that’s exactly how I feel. Maybe you did do me a favor by leaving. Tonight’s the first night of the second part of our life, and we both need to know where we stand and how far we’ll go toward trusting one another. We had a past…but now we’re just two people sharing the same house. That’s all. Two people thrown together by necessity does not create much of a future, and certainly not a friendship. You invited yourself, and I let you.”
“I do appreciate you putting me up, Claire,” he said stiffly.
She paused, momentarily looking away. “And Hunter? I’m genuinely sorry about your mother,” she said, her voice filling with honest, heartfelt compassion. “But I’m equally sorry that it took your mother’s loss for me to be able to talk to you again. Aside from this situation being awkward and uncomfortable, we both know it’s temporary. Because we’re both going in different directions after this.”
Claire went back to her room with all the dignity she could muster. She grabbed her new pink nightgown out of the closet, mostly to remind herself that she was still feminine, still desirable and—unfortunately—still available. Then she crawled between the sheets of her bed, rolled over, put her face in her pillow and wept. She was mortified and angry and outraged. Mostly with herself—and a little bit with Hunter.
She couldn’t believe she’d spoken to him like that. She couldn’t believe that after all these years the yearning for him was still there, just below the surface. She didn’t know what she’d wanted, but it wasn’t any of what she’d gotten. Maybe she’d intended to prove to him that she was over him, that she was independent and confident.
Instead she’d laid the ground rules for a war, one that neither of them wanted and neither of them would win.
As if she hadn’t suffered enough already, she had to compound her problems by telling him how she felt. About him. About her regrets. About what the intervening years had done to her, and how they’d changed her.
But he was here! In her house. And to add insult to injury, he was sleeping in the bedroom she’d grown up in. In the bed that she’d painstakingly refurbished. In the same spot where she’d lain awake at night and dreamed of all the things they could be, have and do together.
Ten years ago, she’d meticulously shaved that particular room of memories and memorabilia. She’d intentionally wiped away every last trace of Hunter Starnes. And now he was back, putting his individual fingerprints on everything new. She’d never again walk into that room without seeing him there. Without seeing his quizzical expression as she laid out the ultimatums. Or seeing his garment bag draped over the end of the bed. Or the way his gaze appreciatively drifted over to the fresh flowers on the bedside table.
It was more than unnerving. It was going to be her undoing.
Claire sniffed, then impatiently wiped her hot cheeks and wet eyes with the back of her hand and rolled over to stare up at the ceiling. Zoey jumped up on the bed, purring with empathy as she nudged her way under Claire’s arm. She absently stroked the cat, her hand rhythmically sliding down Zoey’s soft fur as she thought about Hunter. Zoey purred louder. The sound, and the repetitive motion, had a calming effect on Claire and her heart began to let go of a little of the pain.
It was unbelievable that she and Hunter were sharing the same house. She vaguely wondered what Ella would think. For a few moments, she imagined the conversation she’d have with Ella, who would have been brusque and no-nonsense.
Do what you have to do, so you have no regrets. You’ve got a lot of history together, Claire, no sense making a mess of what’s left of it.
Why, she could even hear Ella admonishing her to be rational, be responsible and be herself.
It surprised her, how clearly she could hear Ella talking to her, especially about this. Initially, when Claire was raw and hurting from the breakup, Ella had given her advice and encouragement. But as the months passed, Ella skillfully avoided much mention of Hunter. When it was clear that he wasn’t coming back, his name seemed to fade from Ella’s vocabulary entirely. They talked, but their talk centered around their gardens, the weather, Claire’s work at the real estate company, the women’s group at church or Ella’s latest trips. They talked about the girls and their families, but never, ever Hunter.
Ella had laid the parameters, and Claire understood that the subject was off-limits. For years, they’d both accommodated the unspoken agreement. Yet Ella knew Claire had never completely gotten Hunter out of her system. It was something that didn’t have to be talked about. Ella just knew.
Now Ella was gone…and Claire had no one to talk to at all. Not about the weather. Not about her newest listing. Not about how goofy it was to only serve regular coffee at church and not decaf. She’d never again have the opportunity to even avoid mentioning Hunter.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.