by Beck, Jamie
“No thanks. I came to tell Claire my news and ask her to stand up for me, but now my mind is blown. I need to regroup.” She kissed Claire’s cheek, her gaze unfocused yet concerned. “I’ll call you later.”
“Steffi,” Claire said, about to say that this wasn’t how it looked. Except it was exactly how it looked. Heat filled her face. “Congratulations. Please give Ryan all my love.”
“Not all of it,” Logan interjected playfully.
Steffi shook her head. “I’ll let you two get back to whatever you were doing when I interrupted.”
“Thanks. Claire and I do have unfinished business.” Logan waved and strolled back toward the kitchen, calling, “Bye.”
Steffi opened the front door and then said sotto voce, “We will talk later.”
“I’ll call you.” Claire closed the door and sighed. She turned and looked toward the rear of the house, then went directly upstairs to shower. She needed privacy to process what she’d learned and figure out how to deal with Logan.
When she emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in only a towel, she discovered him waiting for her in her room, sprawled on her bed.
“You showered too soon. I have plans for us to get all sweaty again.” He smiled and beckoned to her, but she backed away.
“That’s not happening. And I really don’t appreciate how you barged downstairs after I asked you to wait upstairs.”
“Hide.” He sat up and crossed his arms. “You asked me to hide.”
“Well, maybe I’d feel bad about that right now if I hadn’t just learned that yesterday’s excursion was all about you doing a favor for Ryan instead of you planning something special for me.”
“That’s not true. Yes, I did Ryan a favor, but I didn’t have to take you all the way to Newport to keep you from Lucia’s. I did plan that trip just for you.”
“So last night was for me, too? And this morning, also for me?” Claire headed to her dresser to fish out a pair of sweatpants and a sweater, muttering, “Now Steffi thinks I’ve been played, and Peyton will have questions, too. Pretty soon the whole town will be talking about this and wondering when you’ll be breaking my heart. I’m so sick of being ‘Poor Claire.’”
Logan scratched his eyebrow. “I don’t know what’s more depressing: how little you think of me or how little you think of yourself.”
She whirled around on him. “If I’m insecure, it’s directly related to what happened with Todd, and we both know who’s to blame for that.”
“I’m not interested in blame, Claire. It’s pointless and, frankly, boring.” He stood and finished buttoning his shirt. “We all make mistakes. We all get hurt. We all have to overcome and move on. I know you know this. You told me you were over Todd, but things keep circling around to him. For the life of me, I’ll never understand why he’s a stumbling block you can’t get over.”
“Every time you twist my words and defend your sister, you remind me of another reason why this is a mistake.”
He shook his head. “Guess I’ll take the hint and leave you alone. Just remember, my leaving now has nothing to do with my feelings and everything to do with your attitude. So don’t use it as some kind of proof that you were right about me or us all along.”
Without another word, he walked out of her room and trotted down the steps. She heard the front door open and close, and a minute later, when she peeked out her bedroom window, his car was gone. She turned back around and, at the sight of her unmade bed, let the tears come.
Logan zoomed across the pea-stone driveway to park in the shadow of Arcadia House as his father came through the front door and stooped to get his beloved Sunday Times, having yet to embrace digital media. “Where’s the fire?”
Logan nodded, uninterested in making small talk with his father when his head felt like it might explode.
His dad narrowed his eyes. “Where’ve you been all night? Your mother’s been concerned.”
“I’m thirty-two. Didn’t know I needed to check in,” he groused as he brushed past his father and made his way toward the stairs.
“It’s called being considerate,” his father called after him while he closed the front door.
Midstair, Logan stopped and glanced over his shoulder, swallowing a sarcastic remark. He doubted his mom actually had worried about him last night. Moreover, he doubted his father actually believed she had a right to be concerned. But he loved to play doting husband when it suited him, didn’t he? All Logan’s life, he had watched those two together and still didn’t know if they really loved each other or if it was all choreographed for the sake of the family name. “I’ll apologize after I get some sleep.”
His father shook his head, tucked the paper under his arm, and walked back toward the kitchen without another word.
“Dammit,” Logan muttered before continuing his journey to his bedroom, which was situated in the southeast corner of the house.
He shut his door and went directly to his bathroom to brush his teeth and splash cool water on his face. That scrapbook! No wonder Claire hadn’t crossed over any boundary line of this small town in years. Even worse was how that fear spilled over into everything else, including her relationships.
His body temperature rose two degrees each time he replayed his argument with Claire.
Sleep should clear his mind. He hadn’t gotten much last night. Not that he’d minded. She’d been sweet and warm and willing to experiment. Exactly what he’d hoped for and more.
Every emotion had played out on her face and in those eyes. No wiles or any of the phony things he was used to seeing with other women. Sex with Claire had moved him. He would’ve enjoyed spending the rest of the day—and several more strung together—that way, but her doubts had dampened all the passion and promise.
He crossed to the window and stared at the Sound. To the left, he could just make out the outline of some of the Thimble Islands. Some of his earliest attempts at photography had been of that view, when he’d crawled out onto the flat roof of the side portico and shot photos on warm summer evenings.
At thirteen, he’d thought those islands looked like an idyllic escape from the stress of Prescott life. Since then, time and travel had taught him there’d never be an escape. Whether professionally or personally, his name and family robbed him of his own identity. Even now, his relationship with his sister stood in his way with Claire. Not that he blamed Peyton.
No. Claire was being pigheaded. Period.
He pulled the blinds closed and then tugged off his pants and shirt and tossed them aside before crawling under the covers, closing his eyes, and vowing not to think about her anymore.
A light knock at the door interrupted his slide into dreamland.
“Logan?” Peyton called.
He sighed. “Come in.”
She opened the door. The light in the hallway cast her in shadow. “Can we talk for a minute?”
“What’s wrong?” He propped himself up on his elbows.
She crossed the room and sat on the edge of his mattress. “Steffi just called me with her news.”
“Yes, I know. Ryan told me earlier.”
She smiled. “I’m happy for them.”
“Same.” He stared at her, wondering what else she wanted. His eyelids grew heavier by the second. “Can we celebrate or whatever later? I’m bushed.”
Peyton picked at his comforter. “Where were you yesterday and last night?”
He buried his head in his hands. “First Dad, now you?”
“When you left yesterday, you said you were meeting Claire, but then you never returned.” She folded her hands in her lap, avoiding eye contact.
“And?”
She looked at him. “Tell me you didn’t do anything stupid.”
“That depends on your definition of stupid.”
“Oh God.” She covered her face with her hands. “You seduced her.”
He kept quiet. Seduction sounded more calculating than what had happened. He hadn’t set off and planned that whole
trip for the sole purpose of getting her into bed. On the other hand, he had thought about having sex with Claire more than once throughout the past couple of weeks.
He shrugged. “It’s none of your business, Peyton.”
“I asked you not to do that. The last thing Claire needs is to be hurt by another man—or another Prescott.”
He jabbed a finger toward her. “Back off, sis. She and I are two consenting adults.”
Peyton closed her eyes as if praying for patience. “So now what?”
“What’s it to you?” He leaned back into his pillows, hands clasped behind his head.
She slapped his leg. “Dammit, Logan. Did you use her to amuse yourself last night?”
“No. In fact, she pushed me out the door this morning.”
Peyton’s eyes went wide. “I find that hard to believe. She’s been half in love with you since her family moved onto the street.”
“Well, that was before Todd.” He shot her a pointed look, then regretted it when she winced at his accusatory tone.
“She’s still in love with Todd?”
“No. But he destroyed her self-esteem, and now, because I won’t make false promises, she’s got her guard up.” He was pouting. Pouting never looked good on anyone, but he couldn’t help it. Disappointment had him in a tight grip. “I get that she got hurt, but people date and break up all the time. Ryan and Steffi are the exception, not the rule. Just because a relationship doesn’t lead to a diamond ring doesn’t make it a mistake. But even if she were willing to roll the dice, my loyalty to you is also a problem. Apparently, she can do the forgive part, but not the forget.”
“You’re upset.” Peyton stared at him with open interest. “Do you really like her?”
“Why are you still so surprised? She’d been one of your closest friends for years. Surely you’re aware of all of her good qualities.”
“Claire’s a great person, but you’ve never really liked anyone, and her needs and yours are miles apart.” She stretched her arms out to emphasize the point.
He shrugged that off. Yes, they were different people, but emotions didn’t run out of gas. They traveled far and wide, crossing all kinds of barriers. “We all have the same needs when it comes to relationships. Claire doesn’t care about my money or how I can help her. She sees me for who I am. She makes me believe that maybe I actually do have something more to offer than my last name.”
His sister closed her eyes for the second time, this time for even longer. “You want a life of adventure and a way to leave a mark. She wants to nest here in town and head up her daughter’s Brownie troop one day. These two things don’t exactly fit together.”
“Are all women always thinking about marriage? Can’t we hang out and see where it leads? Regardless, I think you don’t know her as well as you think you do. I think she’s yearning for more, but fear”—he thought of how she’d meticulously curated it in that damn scrapbook, and about her parents’ suffocating concern—“has sent her down a years-long detour. The real Claire had goals of competing all over the globe. She never planned to live her whole life in this little corner of the world, and dammit, that Claire is not dead.”
She seemed to weigh that possibility before tipping her head to the side. “And if you’re wrong? You’ve mentioned all these things Claire gives you, but what do you really give her, Logan?”
What indeed. “Apparently she must agree with you, because it’s done. So, if that’s all, spare me the lecture and let me get some sleep.”
“Fine.” She rose. “When you wake up, let’s take some pictures. I’m feeling stronger today, and I want to capture that.”
He managed a smile at that news. “I’m glad you’re having a good day. Sorry if I spoiled it.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll find a way to make you pay,” she teased, but he had a feeling she meant it. If he weren’t dead tired, he might’ve pressed her for details.
Chapter Thirteen
Claire sat at her dining table, surrounded by empty wrappers and a toppled carton of Milk Duds, peeking over her shoulder at that scrapbook less often in the past hour than during the one before that. Most of the time she’d been playing with Logan’s living room design on her CAD program.
The sooner she finished his project, the sooner she’d be able to put him behind her. And putting him behind her was now a priority. She’d known better than to let things get this far, yet she’d barreled ahead on impulse. Exactly the kind of thing Peyton would’ve done. God! Is that what happened with Todd?
She slapped her cheeks to clear those thoughts, then refocused on the experimental combinations of furniture layouts meant to create intimate groupings and maximize flow. One involved a traditional U-shaped layout with a sofa and two chairs around a coffee table, the other being four comfortable chairs circling a round ottoman table.
Her stomach growled, so she went to the kitchen to rummage for more snacks. Dishes from breakfast remained in the sink. She suppressed the gnawing ache of how she’d blown everything up before giving it a chance.
After staring inside the refrigerator for a long while, she grabbed two tapioca pudding cups. On her way back to the dining table, the doorbell rang. She clutched the twin cups to her chest and held her breath. Logan?
After setting the pudding on the counter, she tried to use the microwave glass as a mirror, which didn’t work well. Shrugging, she smoothed her hair back behind her ears and went to the door.
With a deep breath, she opened it and then froze.
“Peyton?” Claire blinked as if looking at a mirage. Peyton stood on her porch, wrapped in a coat and scarf with a wool winter cap pulled down to her ears. Claire couldn’t very well let someone with a weakened immune system freeze outside. Dammit. “Come in.”
“Thank you.” Peyton stepped inside and loosened her scarf, but didn’t unbutton her coat or remove her hat.
Claire didn’t invite her to do so, either. Her heart beat erratically. “Why are you here?”
“Two reasons, actually. The first is about Steffi. I know she asked you to be her maid of honor, and that you know she asked me to be a bridesmaid. I’ve been thinking about it, and while I’d love to participate, I don’t want to ruin the experience for you. I’m sure you’d rather not plan a bachelorette party with me, or other things like that. You and she are partners and have kept in better touch with each other throughout the years. After what I’ve done . . . well, I’ll bow out if it makes it easier for you. I can find other ways to be involved and will be happy in the pews with everyone else.”
Claire stared at this stranger masquerading as Peyton. All those weeks she’d dreaded Peyton’s return, she’d assumed her old friend would be coming back. The one who’d rarely let other people’s hang-ups prevent her from doing anything. The one who’d craved attention and adulation.
She had no idea how to confront—or trust—this more selfless version. But it made Claire feel small to harbor so much ill will toward her now.
“That’s gracious, but if you aren’t involved, then it will ruin things for Steffi. It’s her day, and her wishes matter most. I won’t let our problems interfere with her joy.”
“Thank you.” She smiled. “I know you aren’t doing this for me, but I’m grateful anyway. I don’t know what you want to do for a bachelorette party, but if you’re busy with work, I’m happy to come up with ideas, make calls, or whatever. Just let me know.” Peyton shoved her hands in her coat pockets.
Claire’s head spun. “I’m still reeling from the wedding news and need a minute to catch my breath. I’m also in the middle of finishing Logan’s design plan, so I can’t think about party plans until tomorrow at the earliest.”
Peyton held her breath for two seconds before exhaling. “That actually brings me to the other reason I wanted to see you.”
Claire tilted her head, praying Logan hadn’t said anything, but knowing from the look on Peyton’s face that he had. “Which is . . . ?”
“Logan came home late thi
s morning and put himself to bed. He was still sleeping when I left the house.” She stared at Claire like she wanted her to confess.
Claire remained silent.
“I know he spent the night here, and then you had an argument. Given the crush you’ve always had on him, I suspect you have hopes regardless of what you’re telling him or yourself.” When Claire didn’t respond, Peyton added, “I’m concerned.”
This pitying look was exactly what Claire had wanted to avoid. “Don’t be.”
“I can’t help it. I don’t think his intentions are bad. He’s always liked you a lot, Claire, and it seems he’s grown more attached to you now. But we both know that when he realizes I’m well enough to survive without him, he’ll go right back to his old life.”
“One that won’t include me.” Claire raised one brow.
“Well”—Peyton cleared her throat—“given your preference for staying close to home, it would seem so. And apparently you told him as much. Still, none of us are smart when it comes to our hearts, and I’m worried that you might be in over your head.”
Claire closed her eyes and clamped her mouth shut to keep from shouting. She blew out her breath and opened her eyes, controlling her voice as best she could. “Peyton, I don’t want to get into an argument, but, honestly, your concern is ironic given how little regard you had for my feelings when it came to Todd.”
Peyton nodded but didn’t shy away from the accusation. “It’s because of Todd that I don’t want to see you hurt again.”
Claire crossed her arms and tried to remove the scowl from her face. “If Logan were hooking up with Steffi, would you be concerned? Assuming Steffi wasn’t with Ryan, of course.”
“Probably not, but Steffi’s never been as quick to give her heart.”
“Well, I’m a grown-up, just like her and you and the rest of the old gang. I’m no different from anyone else who’s been hurt in the past, so I’d appreciate it if people would stop treating me special, whether I’m walking on ice or wading into a relationship. For almost sixteen years I’ve lived with extra scrutiny and pampering. For once, I want to be normal.” Claire flung her arms out from her sides. “Whatever is or isn’t happening with Logan is between him and me, and I will handle the fallout on my own. I don’t need kid gloves. Got it?”