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I can’t say it.
“You’d lose her. If you don’t act, you’ll lose her. Her mother will win, Sawyer, and that will be the end of it.”
I stare at him, knowing without a doubt that he’s right. I hate that he’s right, and as I sit here and let that truth sink in, I smirk. “You know, I didn’t count on this occasion happening today. I didn’t set out to reconcile and make long overdue amends with you and have to suck it up and admit you’re right about her, about this.”
He smiles wide and splays his hands out as he shrugs. “It is what it is.”
I narrow my eyes. “When’d you go back to school and learn to become a shrink?”
His chuckles don’t piss me off for once. “Well, working with kids and volunteering at the high school, I hear a lot of sappy sob stories about love gone wrong.”
“For kids? Teenagers?”
He exaggerates rolling his eyes. “There’s always drama there.”
“I’m not a teenager!”
He guffaws. “Then stop acting like one. Be a man about this and tell her, idiot, before you lose her.”
I point at him and try to look stern. “Don’t call me an idiot.”
He rolls his eyes. “Then don’t act like one.”
I stand up, smiling at the wise guy who’s most unexpectedly shown me the way.
I won’t.
I’m still intimidated by the chance I’m right, that I’m correct in guessing Claire won’t want me for real and for good, but I damn well will have an answer.
Because after a lifetime of never getting along with Kevin, I really, really hope he’s right about this. Of all people, I never would’ve thought he’d be the one to kick some sense into me, but as I leave his apartment and jog toward my truck, I’m simply glad that he did.
My heart may not survive her rejection, but at least I’ve got my head on straight enough now to be able to tell her that she has my heart—and to beg her not to break it.
Chapter 29
Claire
I glance at the calendar, double-checking the mental countdown I’ve been sticking with for wrapping up Lauren’s dress. The designing and thinking part of it all takes more time than the autopilot tasks of actually making the dress. With the new machine Sawyer bought me, I work even faster.
I laugh at myself, still stuck in the old timeline. I had a different countdown to the completion date, but when my mother knocked over the dress and forced me back a few steps, I had to re-calculate the dress being completed. Going back and making it for a second time has helped me to improve on my original design with the help of the amazing new sewing machine Sawyer gave me. The dress is nearly there. All I need to do is put the finishing touches on it, and I grin at the calendar.
It still feels silly, but I put a smiley face on the day after Lauren and Aubrey brought me back from Vail. The day Sawyer gave me his mother’s ring. It seems like a lie to say he “proposed” that day, and it’s easier not to think about it when I wish he really had.
It stings that he didn’t just ask me for real, but I refuse to give up all hope on him. If he’s willing to go so far as giving me that shop space and pretending to be engaged, he has to care about me to some extent. I don’t know what holds him back. If we had a chance to sit and talk, I imagine I would have my answers, but we haven’t. We’ve been too busy, and like before, I grow convinced that he’s resorting to the habit of ignoring me and pulling away. I’ve hardly seen him over the last few days.
While it pains me to know he would rather stay away, I have to admit it’s half my fault. I should have been honest with him at the shop space. I should have owned up to my feelings and been open about how I want him.
As soon as we can both sit down and talk…I vow to do it. Hiding my true feelings won’t help either of us in the long run, and that’s where I see us. Long term. For good. If not as an official couple, then as friends?
I grimace at the idea of being friend-zoned. It doesn’t sound right.
Shoving my worries aside, I concentrate on tending to the final details the gown needs.
I don’t get far, distracted by Sawyer striding in.
Speak of the devil, huh?
I smile but lose the courage to look so light and happy to see him. He seems tense, worried even. He’s not rushing up to me with the intention to hold me or kiss me. A greeting doesn’t come either.
