Page 48 of Evidence of Deceit

Her father didn’t say anything. Stared at Joe. Started to say something and stopped. Struggled with himself.

“We always felt Claire was safe with you,” he finally said.

Joe choked on his coffee. “You did?”

“Yep. Her mother and I knew how much you two cared for each other. We discouraged the relationship going further because you were both too young.”

“I thought Claire could do better than me,” Joe said.

“I disagree. You’ve always had the strength of your convictions, a good moral compass. But you needed time to prove that to yourself. Going into the service was the best move for yourself that you could have made. It gave you confidence in yourself. We always felt you were worthy.”

What the heck? Her parents thought he was worthy of Claire. Quite the opposite of what he thought. Wasn’t that why he let Claire go and never pursued her? The bad boy’sreputation preceded him. What kind of life would Claire have had if they stayed together? Would he have been able to get a good job to support her? Would she have been happy? Would it have been enough? No. Not at the time.

Her father was right. He’d changed in the service. Knew right from wrong. Had confidence in his skills. Had the respectability he craved. But was he worthy of Claire? Keith didn’t think so. Told him he was a no-good nothing—a loser. But he wasn’t. He wasn’t!

“Claire was too young and had to find herself,” her father said. “She started off well in college. Became an accomplished artist and was confident in her abilities. Had a good life. If Keith hadn’t come into her life, kept her from friends and family, abused her, who knows where her wings would have taken her. But I suspect she would have always flown back to you.”

They heard a clearing of a throat. Mrs. Sanders had come back with a tray of food that she set down on the coffee table.

“Joe, I heard some of what my husband said, and I have to agree. We knew how you two felt about each other. We would have gladly welcomed you into the family when you were both older. You were a good kid, and I know you’re a good man. You should be proud of yourself.”

Whoa. Both parents liked him. All these years, he thought it was about his reputation when, in reality, it was just his and Claire’s age that bothered them.

Claire was a widow, just coming out of an abusive relationship. Could he step into her life? He wondered how she felt about him. But she had a shitload of decisions to make. Not the least was where she was going to live and what she was going to do with her life. He didn’t want to hold her back either way.

Chapter Twenty-Five

After the meeting with Claire and her parents, Joe returned to Black Pointe. Claire had been happy to have him with her and sad when he left. But she needed to think about where she was going and what she was going to do with her life and couldn’t do that with Joe distracting her.

It had been a couple of weeks, and he still called Claire every night to check up on her. He hadn’t asked her what her plans were, although Claire knew he was curious. She was staying with her parents for a while, repairing their relationship, visiting with her sister and nieces, catching up on everything that happened while she was married to Keith.

Keith’s lawyer told her the buildings and penthouse had sold quickly, putting the money into her account. She set aside a little to buy some clothes and a phone—just the essentials. Spending Keith’s money irked her, but darn it all, she deserved it.

Her cell phone rang. She looked at the caller ID. Sam. Oh, it would be nice to catch up with her friend. Sheri had calleda couple of times, but Sam was her link to all that was happening in Florida.

“Hi, Sam.”

“Claire, glad I caught you. How are you doing?”

Claire told her that things were going well. They talked for a while about mundane things. Then Sam said, “Have you decided if you’re coming back to Florida or staying up north?”

Winter was coming, and Claire didn’t relish living with ice and snow. The sunny climate of Florida was calling her, as well as a certain man. Where would their relationship head? Joe had her back like he always had. He wasn’t pressuring her to make any decisions. Most of all, she missed him.

“Heading south.”

“Great. I wanted to tell you that Mark’s friend has a three-bedroom house on the water that he inherited but doesn’t want. He’s selling it for a reasonable price, for beachfront property, that is. If you’re interested, I’ll send pictures,” said Sam.

On the water. Why, yes, she would love to open her windows to see and hear the ocean. If the rooms were positioned right, she could have a studio. And friends and family could visit. Plus, Joe was there. She planned on pursuing him, gently, of course. Oh, the possibilities.

Joe missed Claire.A lot. Much more than he thought he would. He called her every night, kept it light. Listened. Didn’t give any advice or ask her to commit to coming back to Florida. He purposely hadn’t asked her about her plans, although he wanted to. Oh God, he wanted to, but she needed time. Her voice sounded lighter and happier.

The conversation with her parents had lifted a gray cloud from his shoulders. They liked him. All these years, hethought that they didn’t believe he was good enough for their daughter. What a fool he had been. He wasted ten years without Claire because he thought he was a bad influence. Well, if she came back to Florida, he was pursuing her. He would take it slow because she had been through enough with Keith. Call him a Neanderthal, but he wanted to claim her, to have her in his house, in his bed. He wanted to watch her wake in the morning and fall asleep at night. He wanted to know what made her happy, what made her sad. He wanted to love and protect her.

But he wasn’t going to ask if she was coming back, didn’t want to pressure her. However, if she did come back, he wasn’t letting her go this time.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Goddamn sons of bitches. Hillary stomped into her new apartment. She took off her Louboutin’s and flung them across the floor. One heel dented the wall and broke off. She didn’t care. She hated this apartment. She hated its small size. She hated the kitchen with its laminate countertops and older appliances. She hated that no decent restaurants were close by and really hated that the neighborhood was a little seedy. She hated that she didn’t have a view of Central Park—actually had no view at all. All she had was a view of the apartment building next door and her nasty neighbors. She had no patio and no sliding glass doors leading to it. Not that she would want to open them. Smell and hear the sewer that was New York City—no way.

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