Page 94 of I Choose You
My mother had positioned herself on the edge of my bed, presumably staying. We hadn’t spent much time together in the past few days. I hadn’t really wanted to spend time in the company of anyone since I got back to town.
“So, you’re still going, then? Is this really what you want?”
My head snapped up to meet her eyes.
“Mom.” I had to check myself from snapping at her. “We’ve been through this too many times. I have no interest in playing at politics, being a politician’s wife, hosting functions and always looking out for the next strategic move. I’m not saying there is anything wrong with doing that or wanting that. But that’s not me. I’m not you, Mom. Please stop trying to make me live the same life you do.”
“That’s not what I said. That was what you heard,” my mother sighed. “You are always so quick to think the worst of me, Claire. All I want is for you to be happy. If it’s this job that’s bothering you, if it isn’t what you thought it was going to be, it’s okay to change your mind, to find something else. Don’t live a life that makes you miserable thinking it will allchange one day. The only way things will change is if you make them. You are my daughter, and I love you. This… right now… this is not you being happy. Do you love him?” she asked.
Her questions threw me off, and I answered without thinking.
“Yes. More than anything.”
“Love is a rare and wonderful thing, Claire. Be careful of letting it slip away because you’re too focused on the wrong things.”
She offered me a small smile before she got up and left, leaving me totally confused, sitting on my bedroom floor surrounded by empty suitcases and piles of clothes.
30
Claire
I had frantically tried to get through the airport to make it to my meeting on time. I didn’t. I was ten minutes late, but my profuse apologies were met with understanding smiles and pleasant greetings. The owner of the inn and the contractor caught me up to speed, and we were able to have a productive pre-construction meeting and firm up the timeline and deadline.
The budget-friendly motel was actually pretty decent. The room didn’t smell weird, and the bedding was clean, if a little worn. It certainly wasn’t anything fancy—and it wasn’t nearly as comfortable as staying at Wyatt’s house or, even better, at Reid’s house—but it was clean and seemed safe.
That didn’t make it any easier to sit in my room, alone, on Saturday. I wanted to text Maeve, tell her happy birthday to Jane for me. But I hadn’t talked to Reid since I left, and I couldn’t bring myself to text Maeve either. I hoped Jane had a great birthday party though. Maeve had put so much thought and planning into it to make it a special day for her. My heart broke a little more. I wanted to be there to celebratewith them. Sing Happy Birthday with Reid’s arm hugging me from behind.
I splashed water on my face from the small bathroom sink and sank under the covers. It was 1:00 p.m. in a new town that I could be exploring, but all I wanted to do was curl up in bed.
* * *
The historic house-turned-inn was set on the corner of a busy main road. The lawn was a lush green and clearly well maintained, in sharp contrast to the building’s exterior. New windows, siding, and roof were a given, along with the small lot for the guests’ cars. From what I gathered at last Friday’s pre-construction meeting, most of the money would be spent on the exterior, which, from where I was standing, made perfect sense.
I made my way inside, saying good morning to the few workers who were already there. The owners, Dave and Samantha Grady, were chatting with another man who’d been at the meeting on Friday, the president of the Historical Society, Terry Platt.
“Good morning,” I said as I approached the small group.
“Claire, good morning. How was your weekend? Did you get a chance to see any sights?” Samantha asked.
“There’s a great market, Eastern Market, that you should check out while you’re in town if you have a chance,” Dave said.
“Oh, thanks. I’ll definitely look it up,” I said with a smile.The conversation moved on to the project schedule, and as much as I tried, I couldn’t focus on what anyone was saying. I had loved working on the Delano Library, but it was diving into the history and culture that excited me. This assignment didn’t have that same requirement. Basic knowledge of the proper aesthetic and materials from a historical perspective was really all it required.
“Why don’t we take a tour? Claire hasn’t seen it yet,” Dave suggested. Turning to me, he added, “If you see something that you think we should add to the renovation, let us know. I can’t guarantee it will make it into the budget, but I would love your insights for any future enhancements.”
My phone rang, and I pulled it from my pocket to see Andrew’s name across the screen. “Excuse me, I have to take this.”
I had barely got his name out in greeting when his condescending voice screeched at me. “Where is your report, Claire? I told you I need them every day, just like on the Delano Library. It shouldn’t be a difficult instruction to follow.”
“I sent the report late Friday,” I told him. My patience wasn’t what it once was, and my tone may have indicated that.
“Well, if you had, then I wouldn’t be calling you. Send it again.” The call disconnected.
This was such bullshit. Red tinged my vision. But as quickly as the anger came, it passed.
A sense of relief washed over me. I was done with this. I knew what I wanted and what I didn’t. I didn’t want to be in Detroit. I didn’t want to take on this project. I didn’t want to work for Andrew and listen to him berate me or call me a liar.
What I wanted was to go home. To Calla Bay. To the friends I had made in Maeve and Scarlett. And I desperately wanted to go home to Reid. I didn’t know what I would do for a living, how I would survive without a job, but I would figure that out.Wewould figure it out, together.
