Page 128 of This Life and All the Rest
I turn the knob and push open the door to find her sitting with her legs crossed in the middle of the bed. She’s hunched over and her face is red from crying. I feel nothing.
“Where is Eric?”
Claire whimpers, and I notice her rubbing her empty ring finger.
“He left. He, um, he said he needs to think about things.” She clamps her eyes shut and her face twists up in pain. “He said he can’t be sure if I really love him or if I just hate you.”
My eyes widen.
Wow.
Go Eric. I’m surprised, and strangely proud, of him for standing up for himself. That was one thing Eric and I always had in common. We were too nice for our own good. Too content to be doormats.
“Well...” I say, trailing off.
“I’m sorry,” Claire blurts out, her eyes pleading. “I’m so sorry, Lennon. I had no idea...There’s no way I could have known...I’m so sorry.”
I tilt my head and survey her.
I search my heart for any sort of sympathy, but I find none.
All I can think of are the times she wasn’t a friend to me growing up, despite claiming to be my best friend. All the ways she took from me, draining me dry, never giving anything unless it benefitted her. All the horrible things she said about Macon. Even the shitty way she treated me just a few weeks ago when I saw her for the first time in four years runs through my head.
For my dad’s sake, for Drea’s, I try to find forgiveness, but I can’t.
“Okay,” I say, and Claire sits up straighter.
“Really?”
“I can accept that you couldn’t have known the damage you would cause by taking that letter. I can even accept that causing this much pain wasn’t your intention—”
“It wasn’t. I swear.”
“But you still did that to hurt me, Claire. It doesn’t change the fact that you wanted to cause me pain. And then on top of everything, even after taking that letter, you could have told me the truth when you replied to my email. You didn’t even have to tell me about the letter, but you could have at least been honest about Macon being in rehab. I emailed youbeggingto talk to him. It was obvious I had no clue what was going on, and what did you do?”
She winces, and her eyes close, tears seeping through her eyelashes and soaking her face.
“You told me he was better off without me. That he didn’t want to talk to me. Youlied, Claire. You lied because you wanted to hurt me. You wanted to cause me pain, and I will never be able to forget that.”
“I know,” Claire whimpers.
“Maybe someday I’ll be able to forgive you, but that day isn’t today. I’ll tolerate you for our parents, for Evie, but we will never be friends again. You’re my stepmother’s daughter, and I’m not going to pretend that I like you. And when Macon and I get married—because we will—you’ll be invited only so you can sit in the audience and watch a love that you tried so hard to kill thrive, and I hope you feel insignificant. I hope you feel like a failure. You tried to hurt me, Claire, but in the end, all you did was hurt yourself.”
Claire cries harder and she nods with her eyes closed, but she doesn’t say anything else. No more apologies or excuses. For once, Claire has nothing to say, and it feels good.
I turn around and leave, pulling the door shut behind me, and head back down the stairs to find Macon.
“How’d it go?”
He’s leaning on the counter, drinking a glass of orange juice, but when I step in front of him, he puts the glass down and pulls me into a hug. I wrap my arms around him and hold him to me. I breathe him in, spearmint and spice, and press a kiss to his chest.
“As good as can be expected. But I feel better.”
“Good.” He pulls back and hits me with a mischievous waggle of his brows. “Now should we go break it to Harper that she’s been demoted to number two on your list of favorite people?”
I laugh and shake my head. I take a step back, so his arms fall to his sides, and match his smirk with one of my own.
“It’s gonna take a lot more than good dick to demote Sam, Macon,” I say plainly, and his smile grows.
