by Olivia Miles
Ethan had never met her mother, but somehow, she always felt he had in a way.
Matt had never asked much about her, and she hadn’t dwelled on the subject, saving that instead for those closest to her, separate from a budding romance.
Claire blinked. When had Matt become the person closest to her, then? Or had he never done so? Had she read it all wrong?
“Everything okay, hon?” Barbara set a hand on her wrist. Her green eyes were soft, much like Ethan’s, when Claire looked up, giving a brave smile.
She brushed a strand of hair from her cheek with the back of her hand. “Never better. In fact, I was just thinking that it’s been a long time since I’ve been in a house with so many family members under one roof. I’ve missed it.”
“Are you like Ethan in that you don’t get home much?” Barbara shook her head. “You young people are so busy.”
“St. Louis was home to me, but my father moved south about a year and a half ago, so it’s not the same.” For so many reasons, Claire thought, thinking of her childhood bedroom that her mother had stenciled on rainy day with yellow daisies, the bookshelf stacked with her dog-eared favorites, the toy box filled with joyful memories, now locked away in a storage unit.
“Do you have any family in Chicago?”
Claire nodded. “My cousin. I’m staying with her for the time being. I’m between jobs at the moment,” she explained, wondering if she should have mentioned that part, or if she’d unwittingly put a crack in Ethan’s well-crafted façade.
“Well, Ethan says you’re very talented. He’s been singing your praises.” She winked, and for some reason, Claire felt herself blush.
Nonsense, she told herself firmly, reaching for the serrated knife and the cutting board. He was talking her up, adding to his fictitious story. It didn’t mean anything beyond that.
“Did you have a nice time in town this morning?” Barbara asked as she refilled the ice bucket.
“I did,” Claire said, frowning slightly when she thought of the change in Ethan’s demeanor after they’d left the clothing boutique. They’d gone to a few more antique shops, but Ethan didn’t seem to stop looking over his shoulder until he was back on the bike, peddling away from town. “Ethan showed me where he went to school. And the park.” That’s where they’d had lunch, eating sandwiches on a wooden bench, Ethan quieter than usual.
“He loved feeding those ducks when he was young.” Barbara’s smile turned wistful. “I can still remember the way his little face would fall when he’d get to the last piece of bread in the bag.” She laughed and slid on an oven mitt to pull a casserole bowl of crab and artichoke dip from the top rack. She closed the door with her hip, and carefully set the hot dish on an iron trivet. “Of course, that was a long time ago,” she added softly.
Claire noticed Barbara’s hands were shaking as she opened the top drawer to reach for a serving spoon. She searched her face, sensing that something was amiss, that there was more below the surface than anyone was letting on. Including Ethan.
“Your town is lovely,” Claire offered. “I love the cobblestone streets and the architecture. It’s small, but so quaint. I have to say that it’s nice to get out of the city,” she admitted, sighing.
“You know you’re always welcome to visit,” Barbara said hopefully.
Claire nodded and chewed her lip, remembering again that Ethan’s mother thought she was his girlfriend, that they were a couple, a package deal. In many ways they were, but not in the way Barbara so clearly hoped.
Once again, she couldn’t help thinking it would have been so much better to have never lied, to have come to Door County as they were—friends—and as they would remain.
A sudden image of Ethan in bed that morning flashed in her mind, and Claire blinked, pushing it back firmly as she added a sprig of grapes to the cheese platter and carried it into the living room, where all the other women were gathered.
“Not exactly a wild night, but I’m too old for that kind of thing,” remarked the bride, who couldn’t have been much older than Claire.
“What are the guys up to?” one of the older women asked, and Leslie snorted.
“Hitting the bars in town, of course,” she remarked and frowned at her carbonated grape juice before forcing a sip.
“Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl yet?” Claire asked, taking the seat beside her on the couch.
“We’re keeping it a surprise,” Leslie replied. “But it would be nice to have another boy in the family to help balance things out.”
Claire laughed. Poor Ethan. Growing up in a house full of women couldn’t have been easy, but then she supposed it was . . .eye-opening. No wonder he wasn’t looking to settle down any time soon. He already had all the women he needed as permanent fixtures. Could she really blame him?
No. But she could worry about him. Especially with how distant he seemed today, how unhappy really. He hadn’t even wanted to go out with the guys tonight, and normally he’d love that type of thing. It wasn’t like Ethan to sit at home. Ethan liked to be on the go, on the move. Ethan didn’t stay still. He just kept moving forward.
She supposed she could learn a thing or two from him.
“So, Claire,” Barbara said, balancing her appetizer plate on her knees. “Tell us more about you. What do you and Ethan like to do in the city?”
This one was easy, Claire thought. “Oh, we go to movies, out for drinks. There’s this great wine bar we discovered a few—” She’d been about to say years. She licked her lips, and continued. “A few months ago. And we have our favorite restaurants.” She shrugged. “Of course, with Ethan’s job, he always gets the best reservations.”
Milly clucked her tongue. “He gets paid to party!”
“It’s not like that,” Claire clarified. “The magazine he writes for is really reputable. His column is one that most people read weekly. I know I do.”
“Well,” Barbara sighed. “It certainly is an interesting subject matter. Bars. Clubs. Concerts.”
“And restaurants,” Claire pointed out. She didn’t bother mentioning that someone else covered musical concerts for the magazine.
“I suppose it suits him,” Barbara remarked, seeming a little unconvinced. “It’s a good job for when you’re young, but when he settles down . . .”
“If he settles down,” Amelia cried as she waltzed into the room and settled onto a loveseat.
Claire smiled uneasily. “Sometimes we just hang out at home and watch television. Boring stuff.”
“Fascinating,” Leslie said, her expression one of pure intrigue. Claire glanced self-consciously around the room. Sure enough, heads tipped in thought as they stared at her, as if waiting for her to say something more.
“And do you spend the night at his home?” Milly asked, pursing her lips like a little bird.
Claire’s heart began to drum as the heat rose in her cheeks, and she wrestled with what to say, what would be the realistic answer to such a probing question, when Amelia shot her aunt a look of scorn and cried, “Aunt Milly! This is Ethan we’re talking about!”
“Yes, but I didn’t know if it was different, what with Claire being his actual girlfriend and all. I may be old, but I’m not naïve, dear. For all we know, they’re living together!”
A simultaneous gasp went up around the room and all eyes stared at her. The silence crackled as Claire gripped her wine glass until she feared it might shatter in her hands.
“No,” she finally said, happy to be honest. “We don’t live together.” She didn’t mention that she’d considered it, though, given her current living situation and all.
She frowned, thinking of the call from Hailey she still hadn’t returned. It was easier to avoid her somehow, until she’d figured out what she was going to do. Or what she was going to say when they eventually talked.
“You must excuse the interrogation,” Barbara said, giving her a conspiratorial smile. “It’s just that Ethan hasn’t dated anyone seriously in so long.”
&nb
sp; So long? Claire frowned.
“No,” Milly added sagely. “Not since—”
Barbara cleared her throat, and Milly reddened a bit in the cheeks before immediately cramming her mouth with a mini quiche.
“Let’s just say that Ethan hasn’t brought anyone home in a while,” Leslie said mildly.
“There’s more to life than dating,” Amelia said a little hostilely.
“I’m so thrilled to hear you say that!” Barbara beamed, and Amelia shot her an angry look.
“Yes, what is it that you do again, Amelia?” Claire asked, eager to interfere at the slightest hint of conflict that seemed to keep brewing to the surface.
“Oh, I’m between jobs at the moment,” Amelia said, skirting her eyes to the left.
The room fell silent, and Claire feared she had touched upon yet another touchy subject. She reached for her wine, taking a small sip because she felt the need to keep her wits about her, lest she slip and admit that she and Ethan weren’t actually, technically, madly in love. Perhaps she should hint that there was trouble in paradise so that they all wouldn’t be so shocked when things ended? Or perhaps, given Ethan’s track record, they already saw her fate, before Claire, well, girlfriend Claire, saw it for herself.
She suddenly felt a little sorry for the fake Claire, sitting here, meeting her boyfriend’s family for the first time, somehow none the wiser that her beloved boyfriend was known to play the field and that she didn’t really stand a chance.
She frowned. That fake Claire felt an awful lot like real Claire. When she’d been with Matt.
“It takes time to meet that special someone,” one of the younger cousins encouraged, and Amelia gave a derisive snort in return.
Before anyone else could say something, Amelia stood up and left the room through the back screen door, leaving the rest of the room in silence. Barbara reached for her glass of wine, shaking her head in dismay.
“I’d run after her, but I don’t think that’s what she wants,” she said sadly. “She needs to sort this through on her own.”
“Still not over Will, I see,” remarked Milly, as she wedged a piece of cheddar into her mouth.
“Some people aren’t easy to forget, I suppose. But I do wish she’d take after her brother and move on,” Barbara said, casting a glance in Claire’s direction.
Claire reached for her wine glass and pretended not to have heard the comment as she discussed potential baby names with Leslie, who was all too happy to share her thoughts on the subject. But as she listened to Ethan’s sister go through her list, struggling over recent popularity versus tradition, Claire couldn’t help but keep an ear out for Barbara’s conversation, and she wondered, more than idly, just what she had meant when she said that Ethan had moved on.
From whom?
***
Ethan stared into his beer, happy that a noisy pub had been chosen for tonight’s festivities. The last thing he wanted to do was sit and talk. Besides, there was no way Kimberly would come into this place. She hated it. Always had.
He was safe here. So really, he needed to stop looking over his shoulder every ten minutes.
He took a long pull on his beer and flagged the waiter for another. His cousins and their friends were already rowdy, shooting pool, tossing darts, commenting on the baseball game that was playing on the television. He knew he should join in, shake himself out of this funk, because that’s all it was, a funk.
He cursed under his breath. He was behaving like Claire, going against his own advice. He was a hypocrite. But damn it if he couldn’t help it.
He knew what he said. He knew how he came across. A flirt. A cad. A womanizer. But that wasn’t who he was, not deep down, at least. Even though he tried, and oh, how he’d tried. To move on, to not look back, to never let it happen again.
“Love,” he snorted aloud. “Who needs it?”
“Don’t let Eddie hear you say that,” his cousin Dominic said, sliding next to him. “Have you seen the man tonight? Looks like he’s just seen a ghost!” He chuckled ruefully as he brought the beer to his lips.
Ethan looked over his shoulder where Eddie was shooting pool. Sure enough, the man’s eyes looked a little glazed, and there was a confused frown to his forehead.
“Marriage. Who needs it,” Ethan said, turning back to the game.
“Don’t let your girlfriend hear you say that!” his cousin Rob called from the corner of the bar.
“Don’t you worry about Claire,” Ethan said, hiding a smile. But it was true. If Claire were his girlfriend, she’d be expecting the picket fence, the kid, the yard. Things he couldn’t offer. Or maybe just things he no longer believed in.
He frowned. Best to remember that.
“Aw, now, you can’t fool me, Eth. We all know how you feel about marriage.” Dominic gave him a knowing smirk, and Ethan felt his back teeth graze.
“What? I hit a nerve? You know Kimberly’s in town this weekend—”
“Don’t go there,” Ethan said acidly, taking another long sip of his drink.
“Hey, if you’re still hung up on her, I’ll take Claire,” called Rob, giving a wolfish grin.
Ethan shot him a hard look. “Cut it out,” he snapped.
“I’m just saying, she’s pretty easy on the eye. Nice ass, too.”
“I’m warning you. Don’t speak about her like that,” Ethan hissed. His breath turned ragged as his anger burned.
“Hey, he’s just a little drunk. Cut him some slack,” Rob’s brother, Ted, said, coming to set another round on the table. “Since when did you all get all sensitive on us?”
“I just don’t like him speaking about Claire that way. Got it?”
“Whoa,” Rob said, laughing until the beer sputtered from his mouth. “You’ve got it bad.”
“I do not have it bad. I just don’t like you talking about her that way, okay?” Fire heated his blood and Ethan took a sip of beer to cool his anger. Ted was right. Rob was drunk. He should call it a night. Go home.
He pulled out his wallet and set a bill on the table to cover his share and a few rounds for everyone else. Tipping his head to swallow the dregs in his glass, he pushed back his chair and stood. “It’s been real, gentlemen, but I’m heading out.”
“Already? But the girls haven’t even arrived,” Rob said, and Ethan just narrowed his eyes. They all knew what Rob meant by “girls.”
“Good night,” he said, turning to go.
“Heading home to his lady,” Rob cried, laughing.
Ethan stopped, knowing he should let it drop, but he couldn’t. “And what are you heading home to?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I don’t know,” said Rob. “Now that Kimberly’s back in town, I might head over to one of the other bars, see if she’s around. You wouldn’t mind, would you, Eth?”
Ethan ground on his teeth, holding the challenge in his cousin’s gaze, telling himself not to feed it. Rob had always been this way with him—rumor was he’d been sweet on Kimberly back in high school. From the looks of it, he was still hell-bent on punishing Ethan for it.
Ethan’s hand felt balmy as he pulled it into a fist at his side, wondering which of the comments he was more worked up about. The ones about Claire, or the ones about Kimberly.
“Wouldn’t mind at all,” he said tightly. He walked to the door and pushed out into the cool night air, and began the walk back to the house, not pausing to look back.
***
Claire was in the kitchen when Ethan came through the screen door; his shoulders hunched a little as he stepped inside.
The party had died down forty minutes ago, with the bride claiming she needed her beauty sleep, and her sisters and friends following suit. The older women seemed happy to be relieved of the event, immediately claiming they were off too, leaving Claire, Amelia, and Barbara to clean up—it had only seemed fair to send Leslie up to bed.
“I saw the light on,” Ethan said, opening the fridge and reaching for a bottle of water. He gave her a quizzica
l look. “Is everyone else asleep?”
“Well, it is eleven thirty. Though, Amelia did mention something about seeing what was going on in town,” she said, raising an eyebrow.
“Meaning who’s in town.” Ethan shook his head. “It’s been almost a year since the breakup and she’s still hoping he’ll have a change of heart.”
Claire frowned at that. She couldn’t exactly fault Amelia. Hope was a powerful thing.
But then, so was denial.
She realized, with a jolt, that while Amelia maybe still had something to cling to, she did not. Not when Matt was proposing to another woman. She was free, but he was not. And that, well, that was closure, wasn’t it?
“Do you think she’ll find what she’s looking for?” Claire suddenly felt defensive of Amelia. She may have tired the patience of her family members, but there was something romantic about unrequited love.
And that was officially crazy talk. She opened the fridge and took a bottle of water out for herself. Time to clear her head.
“Do any of us find what we’re looking for?” Ethan asked mildly, coming to stand next to her at the breakfast bar.
Claire shrugged. Once she would have said so, but now . . . “I don’t know. I suppose that’s what life is all about, though, isn’t it? The belief that somehow, someway, it will all work out for us in the end?”
She blinked quickly, but it was too late. The tears were there, burning the back of her eyes, threatening to spill. She was just tired, worn out, and worried. Hailey had called again, and Claire knew she couldn’t dodge her forever.