Текст книги "At Last"

Автор книги: Whitney Gracia Williams

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“Hey babe.” Ryan pulled me into his arms and kissed my forehead. “Are you okay?” He raised his eyebrow, lowering his voice and asking why my face was “so red...like [I’d] been crying.”

I didn’t answer his question. I just stared into his eyes, wondering how he could act as if everything was normal—as if he hadn’t just fucked Amanda in our bedroom yesterday.

“You’re drenched...” He ran his hands against my soaked blazer. “Did you lose your umbrella?”

I swallowed, shaking my head.

He smiled. “Well, go dry up. Whatever’s bothering you—whatever it is, we can talk about it after dinner. Okay? I ordered pizza from the girls’ favorite place and it’s ready now.” He kissed my cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

I heard him whisper “I love you” into my ear before he walked away and disappeared into the garage.

As soon as I heard him revving up his car and heading down the driveway, I turned to face my daughters.

“Mom?” Ashley tilted her head to the side. “What’s wrong with you?”

Caroline lifted her head up and frowned. “Mom? Why are you staring at us like that?” She looked at Ashley and shook her head. “Why isn’t she talking?”

“I need you two to go to your room.” My voice cracked. “I need to...I need to talk your dad when he gets back. Alone.”

They exchanged confused glances, but they put their folders away and hugged me before heading upstairs.

As soon as I heard their door close, I took the envelope from the inside of my blazer and sat down at the table, thinking about how I was going to present the photos to Ryan.

All of a sudden, my phone vibrated. A text. Amanda. “Hey Claire! Just texting you to remind you about that jazzercise class we signed up for tomorrow morning! I’ll pick you up at nine!”

Is this bitch serious?!

I tossed my phone across the room, knocking a photo frame off the wall. Hurt, I stood up and took the photos out of the envelope. I walked around downstairs and tossed them all over the floor, leaving a trail from the dining room to the living room and into the kitchen.

The last photo in my hands was one of Amanda straddling his lap in his car last week—in the parking lot of his law firm.

I wanted to rip it apart and force the pieces down his throat, but I heard the knob of the garage door twisting, heard him saying, “Where’d everybody go? I’m back!”

I leaned against the table and tried to calm my shaking hands.

“Ashley? Caroline? Claire?” His steps were getting closer and closer. “Did a tornado hit the inside of our house while I was gone?” He finally stepped into the kitchen.

“What’s going on, Claire?” He set the pizzas down on the counter. “What are all these pictures and why are they all over the place?”

I didn’t answer. I just stared at him as he bent down to pick one of them up, as his face immediately went white.

He looked up at me in utter horror, devastation. “Claire, I’m so sorry...Can we...Can we talk about this?”

I cringed at the memory and splashed more water onto my face.

The mere thought of Ryan still lit a bitter flame within me, but seeing him? In person? That was a damn wildfire, and I wasn’t sure how long it would take to put out.

I couldn’t believe his audacity—to actually show up and attempt to have a regular conversation with me, to act as if I would give him the time of day.

What the fuck does he want?

There was a knock at the door, but I didn’t answer it. I couldn’t. My body was shaking and my thoughts were consumed with rage and anger.

Why would he even show up here? He knows I HATE him...

“Claire?” Jonathan’s voice was on the other side of the door.

“Yes?” I snapped out of my trance and unlocked it.

“Why are you in here? And why is your face wet?” He grabbed a towel off the rack and softly pressed it against my cheeks. “Are you hot?”

“No...I’m...” I hesitated.

“We can reschedule the appointment.” He wrapped his arm around my waist and walked me back out front. “I’ll let her know we can come another day. You don’t look like you’re feeling well.”

“I’m not...Ryan was just here.”

His body suddenly stiffened, and he looked down at me with his jaw clenched. “Your ex-husband Ryan?”

I nodded.

“What did he want?”

“I don’t know...I told him to leave. I didn’t want to talk to him.”

“Good.” His eyes softened a bit, but I could tell he was upset. “How does he know where you work?”

“I don’t know...” Caroline and Ashley knew better than to discuss me with Ryan, just like they knew better than to discuss him with me. The few mutual friends we shared back in Pittsburgh only knew tidbits of my new life—nothing major, and they would never share any information with him.

“Do you know why he would bother coming to San Francisco?”

I shook my head. There was nothing here for him.

“Hmmm.” He pulled me close and kissed my hair. “I’ll make sure he never bothers you again.”

I wanted to ask, “How?” but I knew he would handle it. I leaned against him and sighed as he led me over to the passenger side of his car.

“Since you’re finally leaving work on time today, what would you like for dinner?” He revved up the engine and looked over at me.

“You.”

“That’s implied.” He grinned. “We can order something in.”

He pulled off and sped onto the highway, making me smile at how perfect my life was right now, how everything I wanted and needed was sitting next to me in this car.

As I looked out my window and watched the city disappear in the distance, I tried not to think about Ryan’s visit, but I couldn’t help it.

Outside of scheduling time to see our daughters, Ryan hadn’t bothered me any other year that I’d been living here. He knew not to, and I didn’t need my painful past colliding with my perfect present. Ever.

It has to be something really serious for him to come here...No, fuck him. It doesn’t matter what it is...

Chapter 1.5

Claire

Summer 2009

“You didn’t see any of this coming, Claire?” My next door neighbor Andrea handed me a box. “There had to be signs.”

“No. There weren’t any signs...” I gritted my teeth.

“I’m sorry...I just—”

“You just what?”

“Amanda’s a really good person...”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Andrea? I asked you over so you could help load up my car, not stand there and defend that ho-bag.”

She sighed. “I’m sorry...I just thought you would’ve been a little suspicious...”

“Suspicious about what?”

“The two of them hanging out so much maybe?” She placed the girls’ blankets into my trunk and shut it. “Michael and I thought something was up when the three of you came to our Christmas party last year...They spent an awful lot of time on our patio...”

“Thank you, Andrea.” I tried not to roll my eyes. “That’s what I really need to hear right now. You know what? Say it again so I can feel even better.”

She pulled me into her arms and hugged me tightly. “I’m only saying it because...I never really liked Ryan, Claire. I’ve always thought that you could do better—so much better...I’m not happy at all about what happened to you, and if I could kill them both and get away with it I would.” Her voice cracked. “I’ve just been trying to change your mind about moving but...Keep yourself safe in San Francisco, okay? I want you to find someone who actually deserves you.”

I nodded and slowly let myself out of her embrace. I tried to hand her the two thousand dollar check she’d given me earlier, but she refused to take it and walked away—crying.

I forced a lump down my throat and slipped into my Audi Q7 with my daughters, heading straight for the highway, for my new life.

“You had to see the signs, Claire...You had to see the signs...”

I hadn’t. I really hadn’t.

How could I when Ryan was so fucking wonderful? So fucking perfect.

And Amanda was—she was my best friend.

I drove down the interstate and flipped through all my memories—birthdays, get-togethers, anniversaries—and in every last one the two of them were right by my side as always. I thought back to more recent memories as I crossed over the state line, and then a couple ones started to stick out—a couple ones that I would have never second guessed before...

Three months ago...

“Death by falling off a building or drowning in the ocean?” I threw a peanut M&M at Ryan.

“Falling off a building.”

“What? Why?”

“It would be an instant death once my body hit the concrete. Drowning takes way too long. Plus, there’s no guarantee my body would be found if I died in the ocean. I want my body to be in the casket after I die.”

I nodded at his logic and looked up at the bright, blue sky.

We were sitting in the grass at Frick Park, enjoying a small breakfast picnic together. We’d been coming to this park once a month ever since we were in high school, ever since he admitted that he was in love with me and wanted to marry me someday.

“Okay, wait.” I looked over at him again. “I have another one: Which is worse? An emotional affair or a physical affair?”

He paused before answering, then he looked into my eyes.  “Emotional. It’s easier to cut off sex. Feelings never go away—no matter how hard you try to bury them...”

“That makes perfect sense...So, let’s say your wife is having an affair. Would you rather it be with a stranger or with your best friend?”

“What?”

“Would you rather lose your wife to a stranger or to your best friend?” I threw another M&M at him.

“Jesus, Claire. What type of question is that?”

“You’ve asked me much worse before.” I shuddered, thinking about the time he’d asked me whether I’d rather have sex in front of twenty people or get gangbanged by three guys in private.

He looked out over the lake and sighed. “Neither.”

“You can’t choose neither.” I shook my head. “That’s one of your rules, remember? Pick.”

“I guess I would pick the stranger...Yeah...The stranger.”

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say? You usually have an entire reasoning behind your pick. Give me the logic.”

“Well I guess it would...It would hurt either way, I just...” His voice trailed off. “With the stranger I wouldn’t have to worry about feeling as betrayed...Whereas, if I lost you to my best friend I—I’m not sure how I would ever deal with that or if I would ever get over it. It’d be the worst thing my best friend could possibly do...”

“I one-hundred-percent-agree.” I pulled him down onto our blanket and kissed his lips. “You know what I was thinking the other day?”

“Tell me.”

“We never got the chance to have a real wedding...”

“What do you mean?”

I sighed and remembered how poor we were when we decided to tie the knot, how I’d had to buy my wedding dress from the neighborhood thrift store and beg my mom to make all the alterations.

We didn’t even have enough money to rent a venue, and since our church was undergoing renovations, we decided to have it in his mother’s backyard. Don’t get me wrong, that was the happiest day of my life and our moms decorated the hell out of that backyard—so much so that it almost looked like it belonged in a magazine, but it wasn’t everything I wanted it to be.

“Wouldn’t it be great if for our fifteenth anniversary we renewed our vows at an actual ceremony?” I asked. “Well, wait. It would probably have to be five or six months after our anniversary.”

“Why is that?”

“Because of Amanda. She’ll have delivered her baby and I would want her to be my maid of honor again—with a real dress and flowers this time.”

He mumbled something that I couldn’t hear.

“And we could have it at a real venue, not in your mom’s backyard.” I smiled. “Ashley and Caroline can be junior bridesmaids. Or do you think they’d rather be hostesses?”

“They’ll probably just be happy to be in the wedding.” He moved closer to me. “I thought you liked our wedding. I did...”

“Oh, I did too, but it wasn’t the wedding of my dreams. You know?”

“It was for me.” He caressed my hand. “I just wanted to be married to you. It didn’t matter where it happened. It could’ve been in the courthouse for all I cared.”

My heart swelled as he pressed his lips against mine.

It was small moments like this that made me appreciate Ryan more and more. Even though he was making ten times the amount of money he was making when we first got married, he always touted me as his best asset and he always found the sweetest words to say.

“I hope it’s always like this, Ryan.” I smiled. “Always.”

“Like what?”

“Calm. Easy. Perfect. Just perfect...” I kissed him again.

“Me too.”

Two months ago...

“Tell me why you’re planning a trip to the Panama Canal again?” Amanda tied an apron around her baby bump. “You’re scared of planes.”

“We’re going to take a cruise there, smartass. And I figured that we need to start planning now. You know Ryan doesn’t have much free time outside of his off days. He seems to be a lot busier now.”

She cleared her throat. “Right. Would you like some cookies? I made your favorite yesterday.” She walked over to her refrigerator and pulled out a tray of mint chocolate chip cookies. “I think I finally perfected my mom’s recipe for these. Do you know she still won’t give it to me? That’s how stubborn she is.”

“Ryan would never cheat on me, right?”

“What?” She raised her eyebrow. “What did you just say?”

“That....That Ryan would never cheat on me, right?”

“You think he’s cheating on you?” She frowned.

“No...I just...I don’t know. I think I’ve been watching too much Dr. Phil or something. Every couple on there that’s been together for ten or more years seems to fall apart over infidelity. And a lot of them talk about all these signs that signal that an affair could be happening but...Ryan is just really busy now. It can’t be what they say.”

“No, it’s definitely not. Don’t read into it too much.”

I sighed. “I’m sorry I ever brought this up. I don’t even know where that thought came from.”

“Don’t apologize...I’m sure every woman has doubts about her marriage from time to time. I know I do...”

“You do? I thought everything was great now, especially since you finally have a baby on the way.” I leaned over the counter and took a few cookies off the tray.

“Looks can be deceiving.” She looked like she was about to cry, like whatever was on her mind was something that was tormenting her. “Barry is...I don’t know...He’s different lately. He hardly ever speaks to me. It just started happening a few weeks ago...We were fine and then one day he came home, walked into the kitchen, and he just stared at me for a long time—looking me right in my eyes. It hasn’t been the same since. I don’t know what it could possibly—” She stopped and her eyes widened.

“You think you know what it could be?” I took a bite of my cookie. “Oh god, these are really amazing. You should sell these someday. Can I take half of them home?”

She didn’t answer me. She stood there silently, staring off into the distance like she was in an awful trance.

“Amanda?” I waved my hand in the air. “Hello? Amanda? You there?”

She shook her head and smiled nervously. “Yeah, sorry...Would you excuse me for one minute? I need to call someone...If those brownies go off, would you please take them out for me?” She slid a pair of oven mitts towards me and rushed out of the room before giving me the chance to respond.

When she returned—ten minutes later, it was as if that odd little episode had never happened. And for the rest of the afternoon she and I laughed over our favorite pastime—baking.

“Promise me that we’ll do this for the rest of our lives, Amanda.” I smiled at her as I placed my favorite cookies into Ziploc bags. “Ashley and Caroline are going to be disasters in the kitchen, so I’ll need you to do this with me when life stresses me out.”

“Of course,” she said. “I’ll always be here when you need me. No matter what happens between us...”

“What could possibly happen between us to make us not be friends, Amanda?”

She smiled and picked up a cookie. “Nothing...”

“Damn right...Next to Ryan, you’re my everything, and don’t you ever forget it.”

Tears fell down my face as I tossed quarters into the toll booth, as I flipped through more memories and realized that there were “signs,” but the two of them had worked so hard to cover them, and they’d purposely left me in the dark.

Maybe from the outside looking in the cracks had been easy to see, but from where I’d been standing everything had looked complete.

I sped onto the next highway and turned my music up, trying to drown out the cries I was finally letting free, promising my heart that I would never allow myself to be so trusting and vulnerable.

I’ll never allow another man to get that close to me again... Ever.

Chapter 2

Jonathan

“I don’t want Ryan Hayes within ten miles of my fiancée. Are we clear?”

“Yes sir.” “Of course, Mr. Statham.” “As you wish sir.” My top security personnel nodded their heads in agreement.

“I need to know why he’s here by the end of the week, and if he’s still here at that point, we need to figure out a way to get him the fuck out of here and back to Pittsburgh. Dead or alive.”

“Mr. Statham...” Greg narrowed his eyes at me.

I rolled my eyes. “Barely alive or alive...You’re dismissed gentlemen.” I waited for them to leave before falling back into my chair.

I’d been too angry to sleep the night before, and I could tell by the way Claire looked when she woke up this morning that she hadn’t slept well either.

On the one hand, I was happy she’d told me about Ryan making an unwanted visit at her store, but on the other, I was angry with myself. If I had gotten there a few minutes sooner, I could’ve personally made sure he would never bother her again.

Claire was mine. Period. I didn’t need him trying to win his way back into her life, or whatever the fuck he was trying to do now that she was happy. I’d worked too damn hard to repair all the damage he’d done, too damn hard to earn her trust and show her that she could be loved again, and I wasn’t going to let him fuck that up.

I need a drink...

“Mr. Statham?” Angela walked into my office without knocking.

“What happened to using the intercom?”

“I have special privileges. Plus, I’m covering for Hayley today so protocol is going to be a little loopy.”

“Why are you covering for her?”

“She has a breakfast date.” She shrugged. “It’s no biggie. She’ll be back in two hours. Anyway, your daily flower delivery to Miss Gracen has just been confirmed, your meeting with Flynn tech is set for noon, the wedding planner’s meeting with you and Miss Gracen is set for three, and you have another appointment with your mother and the therapist at four thirty.”

I hadn’t heard anything she’d said past the words “breakfast date.” Hayley hadn’t mentioned anyone new to me in months. That had to be a mistake.

I shook my head and forced myself to believe that my little sister had simply said the word “date” instead of “meeting.” Then again, I’d heard her and Claire giggling about something over dinner a few days ago, something neither of them seemed interested in telling me.

“And the City Foster Center has invited you to receive the annual Humanitarian Award. “Angela slid an envelope across my desk. “They say they’ll plan the ceremony around your schedule. I know you have the month in mind, but have you set an actual wedding date yet?”

“Not yet...” I leaned back in my chair. “Send me a text later tonight. I think we’ll have one in mind by the end of the day.”

“Of course sir. Do you need anything else from me before I run down to executive affairs?”

“No, Angela. Thank you.”

As soon as she left my office, I picked up my phone and called Corey.

“Yes?” he answered. “Who are we stalking on this lovely day?”

“Are you at corporate?”

“Not yet. I’m still at breakfast. What’s up?”

“I need you to build a file for me as soon as you get in.”

“I have my tablet on me. I can do it for you right now.” He paused. “What’s the name and date of birth?”

“Ryan Hayes. I don’t have a date of birth. He’s Claire’s ex-husband.”

“Good enough. Hold on....” He hummed a few times and mumbled a few words to himself—his normal hacking ritual. “Alright, done. I sent you everything from the three largest databases. When I get back, I can run his name through sixteen more.”

“Thank you. Don’t forget.”

I opened my email and sifted through all the documents and security footage he’d sent. I couldn’t find anything linking him to San Francisco except Claire. Hell, Ashley and Caroline were in Arizona and I knew he was well aware of that.

I was about to set it aside for the day, but I saw an email about a high school class reunion at the Regency Ballroom that was two weeks from now, something Claire hadn’t mentioned to me:

Dear Schenley High School Class of 1991,

It is my pleasure to invite you all to our yearly reunion in California! As usual, I’ll be covering the travel expenses for each of you. (It pays to be CFO of Disney doesn’t it? And YES I’m rubbing that in your faces. Again.) Since we did Anaheim last year and L.A. for most of the years before, I figured we’d do San Francisco for a change!

Now, as usual, if you choose to be a planning assistant, I’ll fly you out a couple weeks before the reunion to help me with certain aspects of coordination, but you must help for at least five hours a day. (You know how HUGE this event is to all of us and we have to make sure each year is better than the last.) If you are an assistant, you’ll help finalize the final itinerary and be responsible for setting up the gift bags for our class of 500 awesome people.

If you’re busy and have a life (Yes, James Klein, we all know you’re a huge golf star now and your schedule is hectic), just send me your travel/lodging preferences (up to two tickets per person) and the assistants will mail you your official tickets a week before the reunion.

Looking forward to seeing you in a few months!

Harrison Woods

I clicked through the attendees that had signed up and noticed that next to Claire’s name was a “no response” checkmark.

I called Corey again. “Corey, I need something else...I need you to intercept any emails regarding a Schenley High School class reunion from a Harrison Woods. He’s the CFO of Disney.”

“Disney? Are you serious?”

“Can you do it?”

He sighed. “Their firewall might be a bit challenging to get through...Give me a few seconds...”

“If you can bypass any emails about insignificant party details that’d be great. I just want the finalized RSVP list.”

“Got you something even better...Do you see it?”

I looked at my screen and saw a spreadsheet detailing each member of her high school class and every California reunion they’d attended throughout the years.

Claire hadn’t attended any. Ever.

“Were all of these reunions in California, Corey?”

“It looks that way, which is crazy because the high school is in Pittsburgh. Looks like it all started with their ten year reunion and then it became an annual one. That Harrison guy literally pays for each and every one of these things. It must be a pretty good tax write off.”

“Hmmm...Okay, thanks.” I hung up and called Ashley.

“Hey, Jonathan.” She picked up on the first ring.

“Hello. Are you busy right now?”

“Not at all. I actually just opened the care package you sent me. Are you calling because you meant to send five hundred dollars and not three hundred? Don’t worry. I knew that was a mistake. You can wire me the rest.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s more than enough to get you through the week. I’m calling to ask you something: When’s the last time you talked to your dad?”

“Um, two days ago. Why?”

“Just wondering...Has he mentioned moving out of Pittsburgh?”

“No. He did mention taking me and Caroline to a hockey game this winter since his firm gave him free season tickets—which is odd because we both hate hockey.”

“So, he still lives in Pittsburgh?”

“To my knowledge, yeah. I’m sure he would’ve told me and Caroline if he was planning on moving. He tells us everything.”

“Right. Well, thank you for letting me know.”

“You were serious about only giving me three hundred dollars? Don’t you think that’s an odd amount to give someone every week? The first few times were okay, but it’s getting out of hand now.”

“Goodbye, Ashley.” I hung up.

I was about to call Claire, but I heard my doorknob twisting and—there she was.

She was dressed in a short white dress and high heeled grey pumps, with a one of a kind triple pearl strand necklace I’d bought for her last weekend.

“Are you familiar with the phrase ‘knock first’?” I raised my eyebrow.

“Am I interrupting a private session? Is there a woman sucking you off under your desk?”

“Not today.” I stood up and walked over to her. “She only does that when she’s really happy with me.”

“She is really happy with you.” She wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me. “I know our meeting isn’t scheduled until later, but can we cancel it? I want a different wedding planner.”

“You came here just to tell me that?”

“I came here because I’m on my lunch break. Speaking of which, if you’re going to continue sending my staff a catered lunch every day, they prefer sweet tea and lemonade over Coke.”

I smiled and kissed her neck. “I’ll have it changed by tomorrow. How many minutes do you have left on your break?”

“Ten.” She rolled her eyes and stepped back. “Is that a no to changing wedding planners?”

“It’s a maybe because this is your third wedding planner...Are you trying to stall marrying me?”

“What? Of course not... I just want our wedding to be perfect. And actually, I’ve been reading a few in-depth articles about huge weddings and most of them agree that the ideal planning period is six months to a year.”

“What’s your point?”

“My point is that I think you should re-consider the time limit you gave me because that’s not enough to even scrape the surface of everything I want to do...Since you claim you want nothing more than to make me happy, I think you should be a bit more generous when it comes to this—especially since this day is so important.”

“Claire...” I looked directly into her eyes. “I’m going to say this one last time and I’m never going to say it again. You have three months to plan this wedding. Three. Months. Period. I do want nothing more than to make you happy, and by the way you scream my name every night, I’m pretty sure I’m doing a damn good job. That said, I’m not waiting any longer than ninety days. And trust me, I’m being more than generous.”

“Jonathan—”

“If it had been up to me, I would’ve married you the day after I proposed. But since you insist on having a wedding, you need to figure out a way to plan it within that timeframe. If you have a problem with twelve weeks and an unlimited budget, or if you even try to push this wedding back by one fucking second, we’re getting married in a courthouse and you’ll be planning an after party.”

She narrowed her eyes at me and I pulled her back into my arms. “Why didn’t you tell me about your high school reunion being in California? Don’t you think that’s why Ryan would be in town?”

“I guess I wasn’t thinking about that...” She shook her head. “The reunion is always in California and he’s never bothered me before so...”

“You don’t want to go?”

“No. I never go.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to see him or her...I can’t handle being in the same room with either of them—ever.” She gave me one last kiss and untangled herself from my embrace. “I have to get back to work so I’ll see you at home. And before you ask—Yes, I’m redesigning the living room again this week. I’ll see you at dinner.”

“At six?”

“At six.” She smiled as she left my office, and I knew damn well she wasn’t going to be home by six. She never was.

After she left my office, I went back to examining Ryan’s files. Even though he was in San Francisco two weeks before the reunion, he wasn’t one of the “planning assistants” and he still hadn’t responded to the actual invitation—which meant he definitely wasn’t here for that.

He was here for something else...

“Okay. Jonathan, Denise, we’re in the closing minutes of this session.” Miss Tate looked over at my mother. “In all honesty, how do you think today went?”

I think we’re really making progress,” she said as she tied a scarf around her neck. “I feel like we’re getting somewhere.”

“We are.” I sighed. “If you keep behaving, I might invite you to the wedding.”

“Excuse me? What wedding?”

“My wedding.”

“You’re engaged?” Her eyes widened. “To Claire?”

“Is that a problem?”

Miss Tate tapped her notebook. “We can discuss that next time. No new conversation topics within the last ten minutes, remember?”

“Let me get this straight.” My mother ignored her. “You’re about to get married and you didn’t think to tell me?”

“I didn’t think you would care.”

“It’s been over eight months, Jonathan.” She sighed. “I’ve apologized to you, I’ve sent Claire god-knows how-many letters in the mail, and I would really like to have a functioning relationship with at least one of my children. I shouldn’t have to beg for that.” She looked over at Miss Tate. “Should I?”

There was silence. I didn’t feel like going into a deep conversation with her today. I was fine with the molasses-speed progress we were making and I had no desire to fully integrate her back into my life.

I stood up and shook Miss Tate’s hand. “As always, thank you for mediating these sessions, Miss Tate. Mother, Greg is downstairs waiting to take you home.”

“Is twice a week too much to ask?” My mother looked hurt. “Can we at least try it?”

“I’ll ask Claire about it and get back to you next week.”

“Claire? You have to ask Claire?” She narrowed her eyes at me. “I know my opinion doesn’t matter much.”

“It doesn’t matter at all.”

“Let me finish, Jonathan. I can at least—”

“No, you can’t. You don’t need to say anything about what I’m doing with my life or anything that relates to Claire because it’s none of your business. What you can do is be happy for me, stay on your best behavior, and show up to the wedding if I decide to invite you.” I kept my eyes locked on hers. “If you pull what you pulled last year—if you even attempt to say anything to her without my permission, I’ll never speak to you again.”

“Jonathan, Denise...” Miss Tate stood up. “I think it’s best if we end the meeting without saying another word to each other. You’re both doing so well. You don’t want to lose all the ground we’ve made so far do you?”

“You’re still holding that bullshit from last year against me?” My mother scoffed. “Seriously? That’s what this is about? You’re over our past, but you just want to throw in the Claire drama to keep me out of your life?”