Page 46 of 40 and (No Longer) Fighting It
She was.
“Thank God,” he breathed. Closing the door, he flipped the lock to ensure they wouldn’t be interrupted, and strode across the room to where Claire sat, her back to the door, her gaze on the distant forest outside the window. Had she seen the enjoyment on the faces of their guests as she walked by?
He didn’t think so. The tears tracking down her cheeks felt like a knife to his heart. “Sweetheart…”
Claire startled as if she hadn’t heard him come in. Hasty swipes attempted to erase the wet tracks on her face.
He knelt in front of her, hands going to her hips. Holding her in place, as if she’d disappear at any moment. And that was how he felt, he realized. He’d spent so much time focusing on now, on enjoying each moment with her, deliberately not thinking about the future. Maybe both of them had. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to voice what he was feeling because it was difficult to acknowledge that he was in love with another woman after all this time. But Claire just brought it out of him. She had ten years ago, and she did now.
He loved her; he could no longer deny that. And he felt like she was slipping through his fingers.
“This is going to pass,” he said, stroking his thumbs along her sweet curves. “You know it will.”
“Do I?” Her smile definitely said she didn’t.
“Claire—”
She stood, sidling away from his touch. He followed her with his gaze as she crossed to the window, all her energy focused out there instead of in here, on him.
“You know, I thought I knew what humiliation was when everyone in town found out he’d gotten another woman pregnant.”
Linc stood, turning to plant his ass on the bed. “I’m sorry you ever had to go through that.”
He wanted to promise her he was different, that she’d never have to experience anything like what Jared had put her through while she was with him. That he’d protect her. But that ship had already sailed, hadn’t it?
“I don’t think I can do this, Lincoln.”
Some part of him had expected the words, but that didn’t mean they didn’t hurt. “We’ll get through this, Claire.”
She shook her head without looking back. “I already live my life under scrutiny and judgment. It’s bad enough with my family; I don’t need it from thousands of adoring fans. I don’t need the…comparisons.” Her voice choked up. “This hurts. To have all this out in the open—it hurts.”
“And that’s my fault,” he said quietly. His instincts were screaming at him to go to her, to hold her, but the rigid set to her back told him she wouldn’t accept comfort right now. And he understood, even if he didn’t like it. The past had been hard enough for the two of them to deal with privately, but to have it all hashed out in public…
Looking back, he understood now that ultimately it was his celebrity that had ruined her career. It had been his reputation, so far above that of a student, that had made people at ICE assume Claire had done something wrong, that there was something lacking in her work. She’d been so far below him that others couldn’t comprehend that the problem might have been his. Or might not have been about food at all.
His fault. Just like this was his fault. And he felt helpless to fix it.
“It does hurt,” he agreed. “I’m sorry.
“The celebrity aspect was hard at first,” he told her, trying to keep his tone conversational. “Almost by accident I learned to deal with it by ignoring it simply because of the timing. I was focused on losing Kelly, on getting Prime off the ground, and I didn’t have time to pay attention or interact with quote-unquote adoring fans. And I sort of kept on that way. I don’t interact online or get involved in any fan groups. I do the occasional interview when it comes to my charity events, make appearances at those because the cause means something to me, but everything else goes through my assistant. I keep myself separate, and that’s how I keep myself sane.”
“I just don’t know…”
He stood, unable to hold himself back any longer. Moving until he could bring his body up against hers, he folded his arms under her breasts and tugged her backward, sharing his warmth. “Look at it this way: I know you don’t have any more skeletons in your closet. I sure as hell don’t—if I did, they’d have uncovered it by now.” He tucked his head down next to hers. “The worst has come to light, and that’s it. What more can they do to us?”
“A lot.” Claire’s tone was sour. “You’re a man, Lincoln. A very attractive man. They can’t come at you from that direction. To be compared to…” Her voice trailed off, but the devastation he heard there shattered him. He didn’t compare her to Kelly in that way—they were two separate people, and he saw them as such. But she was right, the outside world could use that against her. And he hated that. “I would need to be on guard every moment. Every time I step out of my apartment and some paparazzi gets a picture of me in my sweatpants and oversize T-shirt, picking up tampons from the drugstore—they can do a lot.”
“Claire, you can’t live your life that way.” He bent his head farther to nuzzle her throat, needing her skin, the reassurance of touching her. Claire tilted her head to one side, allowed him access. But the minute he lifted his head, she moved out of his arms. Frustration roughened his voice. “You have to turn off the outside static and do what makes you happy.” He paused, and though he wouldn’t admit it to anyone else, it was fear that had his heart rate ticking up. “The question is, do I make you happy?”
Claire was faced away from him, her expression hidden. “That’s never been a question.”
Relief had him sagging back against the windowsill. Something about the way she spoke, though, told him that wasn’t the end of it.
Her next words proved him right.
“For me,” she said, “the question really is, am I even capable of turning all of this off? With my history? With my family? It’s taken me a decade to simply stand up for myself.”
“What does that mean?” he asked, heart in his throat.
