Page 17 of Dr. Intern

Yep, she hates me.

“Your brother asked me to come,” I answer casually, forcing myself to keep my eyes trained ahead. “Though trust me, I had no idea you were his sister until now.”

Her breath catches as Cass leans forward and whispers, “Claire—this is Beau, Parker’s buddy from work.”

I give her my best All-American grin as I turn and hold out my hand. “Nice to meet you, Claire. I’m sure we’ll chat more later.”

Claire narrows her eyes on me as she places her palm in mine, her grip surprisingly firm. “Nice to meet you,” she replies, the words sounding forced.

It seems we’ve both decided to keep that night a secret for now, and I’m more than okay with that. Parker doesn’t need to know that I’ve been obsessed with his sister since the moment I met her. And he definitely doesn’t need to know that seeing her today is the highlight of my entire month.

Before Claire and I can continue our game of who cares less, the elderly pastor stands to begin the service, a hush falling over the crowd.

“We are gathered here today to celebrate the life of Grace Winters,” he begins, eyes surveying the congregation. “As many of you know, she was well-loved in the community for her generosity and her vibrant personality.”

As the pastor goes on discussing the accolades of their mother, I can’t stop my eyes from drifting to Claire’s tense body beside me. Her hands are clenched in her lap, knuckles practically white from gripping each other. She seems much more frail than the last time I saw her.

Everything inside me wants to reach out and ease her pain, to let her know that I’m here for her, even though she doesn’t want me. But I can’t do that without drawing suspicion from her family, so I sit still and brood over how much of a jerk I am.

We stand to sing a hymn, and I notice her body stiffen further as a single tear runs down her face. On instinct, I pull a handkerchief out of my suit pocket and hand it to her.

Surprisingly, she takes it with a faint nod of appreciation, using the fabric to dab away the lone tear that escaped her control. For a brief moment, our eyes meet, and I see a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability in her gaze. It’s a stark contrast to the confident and fiery woman I encountered at the bar, and my heart aches for her.

God, I just want to hold her in my arms and never let go.

Once we sit, I’m surprised when the pastor calls her up to speak. Not that I don’t think she can handle the situation, but shouldn’t Parker be the one doing that kind of thing? He’s much more refined and controlled than his sister, and I doubt speaking in front of an audience like this would phase him.

I glance at Cass, who shoots me a look that says she’ll explain later as I redirect my attention to Claire.

She stands gracefully, her posture exuding confidence despite the clear pain she’s masking. I watch her as she moves toward the front of the church, her eyes scanning the room briefly before she takes a deep breath to begin.

“Do any of you know the name of the OG of the OC?” she asks, peering into the crowd.

Hushed murmurs surround us, and I can sense Parker stiffening to the left of me, probably wondering what the hell is going to come out of her mouth next.

If Claire notices the crowd’s response, she doesn’t let it affect her. She just softly smiles before continuing. “What about the name of Dorinda’s estate?”

She pauses again, allowing her tired eyes to shift across the sea of people.

“Do you remember where you were when Theresa flipped the table?” Her throat bobs with a forced swallow, as if she’s trying to push down the emotion threatening to break free from her control.“Because I do. I was with my mom.”

Claire’s hand drifts up to her head, nervously pushing a stray curl behind her ear. “It’s funny, because I don’t think she even liked reality television,” she admits to herself, her lips parting to let a small laugh escape. “I think she found the fights exhausting and petty. But she loved me. And she showed her love in ways that I didn’t even realize until this very moment.”

Claire peers down at the ivory pulpit, her chest heaving like she’s holding back a wave of emotion that’s threatening to break at any moment.

“She also loved all of you in this room. You want to know how I know?” Claire asks, shifting her gaze to the back of the congregation. “Because when she wasn’t listening to me ramble about my life, she was updating me on yours. She knew that Mrs. Kay just finished a baby quilt for her third grandchild.”

Her eyes scan the room, landing on someone in the far right. “She knew that Mr. Richardson just had a triple bypass surgery, and we spent hours choosing the perfect flowers for his recovery.”

As if realizing her mistake, her porcelain skin flushes bright red. “Oops! Sorry! Forget I said that.”

Everyone in the room chuckles, unfazed by her divulgence of private health information.

“What I’m trying to say, is that she was actively involved in all of her friends’ lives. She cared deeply about what was important to each and every one of you . . . probably more than she cared about the things that were important to herself.”

Claire swallows and closes her eyes for a moment.

“I think we can all learn a lot from my mom,” she says, voice trembling slightly. “So I ask that when you leave here today, you take a piece of her with you in your heart. Live like her. Live as if you’re interested in the lives of those around you, because you might just gain a perspective that you never knew you needed.”

---