“He doesn’t love me like that. I’m not sure he ever will. It finally dawned on me that what we had was ful
l of comfort and familiarity. Our schedules were crazy. He’s in high demand with his job, and I’m a night nurse. We had security in each other.”
“That sounds awful,” Grace says softly. “We want the story, the whole story. None of us know what happened.”
“You know enough. We had history, left it alone, and then picked it back up. It didn’t work. That’s the story.” I chug my wine, knowing I gave the lamest explanation in history.
“Claire, everything. Every detail, every moment, every fucking conversation, I want it all,” Bizzy insists.
“Why is that important?” I slice my eyes to Brinley, who’s falling asleep on the blanket, and I wish I could join her.
“Either you tell us, or I go against the best friend rule book and call Shaw. He and Mathis will be here in the blink of an eye.”
“You can’t do that.”
“Then spill.”
Grace gets up, goes to the kitchen, and I hear her sifting through cabinets, ice clinking, and the sound of the fridge opening. The entire time, Bizzy and I hold our stare-down. She’s unrelenting, and the air between us changes the minute Grace sits, putting a wine chiller in the middle of the table.
“We love you, Claire, and we respected the past, knowing you two were finally a couple. But now, it’s time we understand,” Grace says softly.
It’s in my head to tell her she has no fucking clue. She’ll never spend years yearning over a man who can’t love her the way I love Mathis. Bizzy could possibly fathom my emotions because she loved Shaw for ten years before they got together. But I can’t hurt Grace that way. She’s trying to help.
So, I talk, starting the night I met Mathis, moving from the beginning to two nights ago.
Two bottles of wine carry into three, maybe four. The only interruptions are Grace getting up to prepare a bottle for Brinley, turn off my stove, and replenish the wine. There are tears, lots of tears, but none are mine.
By the time I get to Mathis telling me ‘it isn’t working,’ Bizzy is bawling. Grace is holding a sleeping Brinley, and her own tears are streaming.
“You can understand now, I’m not a Bennett girl.”
“You ARE such a Bennett girl!” they both screech-whisper. “You’re the epitome of a Bennett girl!”
I shrug, finding no use in arguing a moot point.
“Claire, I’m not defending him, but did you ever talk to Mathis and tell him how you felt? You’ve been holding back a huge piece of yourself, which isn’t exactly fair to him. Maybe he didn’t have a clue you were harboring resentment from all those years ago.”
“No, I didn’t tell him that. I was too infatuated with the fact we finally were an item. I’d waited years for him. The last thing I wanted was to chase him away. It was best to bury it and enjoy what we had.”
“You had a packed bag and left nothing behind. Being together for such a long time, it was too easy for you to leave. That doesn’t sound like a woman who was enjoying herself.”
“I can’t expect either of you to understand. What we had worked.”
“Shaw says he’s upset, Claire. I think you need to talk to him.”
“Of course, he’s upset. I’d be shocked if he wasn’t. We had an incredible sex life. We had a ton of fun together because, even though we’re opposites, our personalities played off each other. Not to mention, we were surrounded by amazing family and friends and work together at jobs we both love. Like I stated earlier, comfort and familiarity.”
“He deserves to hear all this from you, know how you feel.”
“I’ll call him tomorrow; however, it’s not worth dredging this up. It won’t change anything now.”
“You don’t know that. Maybe there’s a chance.”
I can hear the underlying hope in Bizzy’s voice and recognize it on Grace’s face. There’s one way I can make them understand.
“He watched me try online dating without a word. He saw me when Bizzy was in her accident and could have died. He let me go to Charlotte without a care. And, for the last fifteen months, he’s watched me come and go with my overnight bag, not once suggesting I unpack it.”
“How did we miss all this? Why didn’t you talk to us?” Sympathy, hurt, anguish… it’s all obvious in Bizzy’s question.