Chapter 8
She smiled through her tears.
“For how long?”
Nathan's expression softened.
“As long as we both keep choosing it.”
A year later, Claire stood on the balcony of an apartment overlooking Central Park.
Not Adrian's apartment.
Not even Nathan's.
Hers.
She had purchased it after being promoted to design director.
The walls were lined with photographs of her family, sketches from her projects, and one hilariously terrible painting she had made during pottery class.
Oliver was asleep beneath the dining table.
Nathan was in the kitchen attempting to make pancakes.
Badly.
“Is smoke supposed to come out of the pan?” he called.
Claire laughed.
“Generally not!”
“Interesting. Because it's doing that.”
She hurried into the kitchen.
Nathan stood in front of a ruined pancake wearing an apron that read Trust Me, I'm Trying.
Claire burst out laughing.
“You own three companies.”
“Four.”
“And you can't make breakfast?”
“I'm excellent at ordering breakfast.”
She took the spatula from him.
He wrapped his arms around her waist.
“Happy anniversary.”
She turned.
“Our anniversary isn't until tomorrow.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you saying it now?”
“Because I wanted to be early.”
Claire froze.
Nathan noticed.
His smile faded slightly.
“Hey.”
She looked up.
“What?”
“I didn't mean—”
“I know.”
But her voice trembled.
Because he had accidentally touched an old wound.
Adrian had always been late.
To dinners.
To birthdays.
To moments that mattered.
Nathan brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“I'm not him, Claire.”
“I know.”
“And you don't have to spend your life expecting me to disappoint you.”
She rested her forehead against his chest.
“I'm learning.”
He kissed the top of her head.
“Then we can keep learning together.”
Three months later, Nathan invited Claire to Vermont.
He told her they were visiting his grandmother.
Which was true.
But it wasn't the whole truth.
On Saturday morning, he drove her to a quiet lake surrounded by autumn trees.
The same kind of lake where Adrian had proposed years earlier.
For one moment, Claire felt the old memory rise.
The cold air.
The diamond.
The promise she had mistaken for certainty.
Nathan noticed her expression.
“Too much?”
She looked at him.
“What?”
“The lake. I know what happened before.”
Claire smiled.
“No. It's beautiful.”
They walked along the shore.
Nathan carried a small picnic basket.
Inside were sandwiches, strawberries, and a little chocolate cake.
Claire laughed.
“You remembered.”