Page 92 of I Choose You
I still had to pack up my things from the house. Get Wyatt back his keys. I hadn’t said a proper goodbye to Scarlett or Maeve… or Reid. Tears welled in my eyes, and my chin quivered. Andrew had already hung up, so I pocketed my phone just as a strong hand wrapped around my bicep.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Reid pulled me to him, concern etched across his brow.
“I have to go,” I told him.
“Okay, okay. Let’s get you out of here. What happened?”
“No. I don’t mean the grand opening. I mean Calla Bay.” Tears were falling from my lashes. My throat was so tight I could barely breathe.
Reid’s eyes widened as a look of panic crossed his features. His jaw tightened, but his thumbs swept under my eyes with a gentleness that made my insides melt.
“When?” His voice was soft and quiet.
“Today.” I pushed my shoulders back and stood up taller, swallowing my tears behind my practiced mask. “Andrew needs to see me in the office tomorrow.”
“What would you say if I asked you to stay?”
The bottom dropped out of my stomach. It shouldn’t have been a surprise. It should have been something that we had discussed long ago. But it wasn’t. My leaving was a given.
This was only ever meant to be temporary.
“Reid,” I started. My heart couldn’t take this. It was already agonizing, planning to leave. Breaking Reid’s heart was too much. “Please don’t do that.”
“Seriously, Claire. Stay. Stay here… with me.” Reid held my face in his hands. His deep brown eyes were laced with pain. “I will build us a house. Give you everything you want. We can have it, Claire. We can have it all, I promise. I love you.”
Tears streamed down my face, my hands clasped over his. I had known that for months, but never had he said those words out loud to me—not on purpose, anyway. My heart was cracked open. I kissed him just shy of obscene, given our current location, and pulled his hands away from my face.
“I love you, Reid. But I have to go.”
I would never forget the look of despair in his eyes as he stepped away from me. He dropped my hands, and I had to stop myself from hurling myself at him, asking him to holdme just a little longer.
This was for the best.
I had to get back to Connecticut. Get back to my real life, my next project to manage, my… Nothing else came to mind. My parents would be fine without me under their wing. Friends had seemed to vanish, which I had to take some responsibility for being away for the last seven months.
Back at Wyatt’s house, my two suitcases were chock-full, and I wasn’t even halfway done packing. When had I acquired so much stuff? I left the blankets and decor items that I had purchased to make Wyatt’s house feel homier. I put them in a closet with a note to donate them to Goodwill if he didn’t want them. The refrigerator was cleaned out, trash taken to the bins, sheets freshly laundered and bed remade. I packed up the rest of my stuff in loose piles in my trunk. It wasn’t exactly classy, but it would have to do.
I locked Wyatt’s house up with sweaty palms. My heart beat wildly in my chest. Why did it feel like I was making a mistake? My car idled outside the house for ten minutes while I just sat there, lost in a swirl of emotions.
Reid wasn’t home when I stopped by. I hadn’t wanted him to be home. I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing the pain on his face again. Still, I couldn’t help the pang of disappointment I felt.
I collected the rest of my things that had migrated to his house, except for the ficus tree. I hoped he kept it. A little reminder of me and our time together. I left Wyatt’s house key on his counter with a note. Leaving Reid’s key behind was a lot harder. Maybe I would mail it to him instead. With a deep breath, I threaded it off my key chain and placed it next to Wyatt’s. My fingers lingered on the cool metal, itching topick it back up and take it with me, but I didn’t.
The drive back to Connecticut couldn’t have been more opposite from my initial drive into Calla Bay. The sun was shining brightly overhead, mocking me. The radio was unusually silent. There wasn’t a single song that could pull me from the heartbreak pounding through my chest. I heaved in a thick breath, a visceral sob racking through me. The crying didn’t stop for four hours. The distance separating me from Reid only intensified the broken feeling inside of me. Like a piece of me had never made it out of Calla Bay.
29
Claire
White clapboard siding.
Pine hardwood floors.
Traditional window grids.
I scrolled through image after image of the new project on my computer. It was a cute, historic home turned inn in 1874. It needed some remodeling, a little maintenance and upkeep. Nothing to the size, scale, or interest that the Delano Library had offered me.
Maybe I was just spoiled with my first solo project. Most historical preservation projects were a whole lot smaller than the library. A lot of them weren’t even full remodels but rather segment renovations as needed.
