Page 40 of 40 and (No Longer) Fighting It
Claire held up a hand. “No, you want me to conform.” She sat back on the couch, dropped her hand to her thigh. Rubbed back and forth across the blue-jean material. “Your narrow ideas of happy are not the only way to live, Mama. Because of those narrow ideas, you’ve chosen to support a man you’re not blood related to, who cheated on your only daughter and blamed her for losing the children she wanted. All while condemning me for things I could not control. Hell, you’ve chosen to support the woman he cheated with over me, so no, I don’t believe you want me to just be happy. And I’m done having this discussion with you.”
“Claire…”
“No.” She gripped her hands together tight, trying hard to keep herself strong, steady. “I’ll tell you just like I told Daran. If you can’t support me a hundred percent, I think we need to limit contact for a while.”
The stunned look on her mama’s face nearly broke her heart. “You would do this over a man like this…chef…down there?”
Trust her family to narrow down their problems to an outsider. “No. I’ll do this for me and my own peace of mind. At least for all his celebrity status and tattoos and whatever else you don’t like about him, Lincoln treats me with decency.”
“Sleeping together for all the town to see is not decency.”
Claire gestured toward the door. “I don’t need your judgment, thanks. I think it’s time for you to go.” Sadness nearly overwhelmed her, tears surging to her eyes, but she refused to back down. “When you’re willing to reconsider, let me know.”
Lanelle moved toward the door, paused, then squared her shoulders and continued outside. Claire let her go. After a few minutes, knowing her mama would be gone, she left the apartment and made her way back down to the bakery. Lincoln was at the front door, keys in hand, staring out the window, theWe’re Closedsign turned to face out. When he heard her behind him, he made his way directly back to her. His arms were open to receive her before he even got close.
She walked straight into them.
The feel of his body surrounding her, his strength holding her upright was everything. She clutched at his back, desperate for more.
“I take it that didn’t go well,” Lincoln said quietly. “I’m sorry.”
Those two words had the tears releasing. Lincoln didn’t say anything else, just stood there and held her as she cried, his gentle rocking soothing her. It should have been her mother comforting her like that. Her family should have wanted to wrap her in their arms and keep her safe. They’d chosen a different path.
And now, with Lincoln, so had she. It didn’t matter if they were together for another week or another year, and she didn’t dare wish for a lifetime. But time didn’t matter; what did was that her relationship with this man had changed her, fundamentally, in ways that she’d never expected. But she was glad he had. Glad she’d taken a chance on him. She didn’t regret it. She just hoped, for whatever time they had left, that she could soak in every moment and carry the memories with her into whatever the future held.
Eighteen
Linc gave his Armani dress shirt and slacks a once-over before picking up the matching silk jacquard tie from the bed. He’d restarted the tying process for a second time—along with plenty of grumbling and cursing—when a knock came at the door.
He yanked the tie straight again and started over. “Come in.”
JD opened the door and stepped into the room. Sharp eyes took in Linc’s pale pink button-down and charcoal pants, the matching suit jacket on the bed. He grimaced at the dangling ends of the tie. “You still hate those things, don’t you?”
He grunted. “There are people who don’t?” Of course JD didn’t. The bold red tie he wore was neatly knotted at his collar. Not Linc; he’d never met a tie he didn’t hate. Kelly had knotted all his ties, and to this day he left them that way, simply loosening them and slipping them over his head when he’d finished wearing them, then adjusting the ends until they fit when it was necessary to put one on again.
Today’s bastard, though— Frustration had him yanking the strips of silk across each other with more force than necessary.
The corner of JD’s mouth tilted up as he crossed the room to take over the process, but Linc noted the lack of amusement in his friend’s eyes as he tangled the tie into submission. When the silk lay flat against Linc’s chest, JD gave it a nod and stepped back. “There.” He met Linc’s eyes. “We need to talk.”
“Everything okay up at the site?” Linc picked up his jacket and shrugged into it.
“Yeah.”
So not that. “I don’t have time for twenty questions today, JD. I want to get over to the catering tent and help Claire out. What’s up?”
JD took a seat on the end of the bed, his jaw tight. Not a good sign. From his back pocket he pulled what looked like a rolled-up section of newspaper. “Shel Blanchard’s article came out today.”
It was on the tip of Linc’s tongue to celebrate, but JD didn’t look like he was enthused. More like tragedy had just struck. “And?”
“And it’s not inFood & Wine Magazine.”
Well, Shel did freelance occasionally. “I don’t understand.”
JD unrolled the newspaper, opened it, and folded the pages so that Linc could plainly see a specific article. “She released it in the Nashville newspaper.”
“Why?” He took the paper from JD, impatience building, until he read the headline:
BIG BUSINESS OR MONKEY BUSINESS?
