Page 64 of Boss Level

“I talked to Dale today.” Claire’s quiet voice might as well have been a shout.

I swallowed hard as I set my fork down. “How’d that go?”

“He says he’s sorry, and that I’d be an idiot to not come home.”

Uh-huh. My skepticism was drowned out by a louder voice in my thoughts. One wondering if she’d told him too much. If we were in danger. “What did you tell him?” Cool and collected was my deal. She never saw the spark of fear.

“I didn’t tell him anything except that I’d think about it. I didn’t want you to be mad at me.”

Not the best reason, but it got us the required result.

“But what if he’s right?” Claire asked.

“He’s not. He’s very wrong.” I needed to offer more, but I was already telling her the truth.

Claire pushed her food away, a scowl etched on her face. “You don’t understand. You’re pretty, you’re successful, and you have yummy men falling all over you. I’m thirty. No one is interested in me. What if Dale is my last chance at love?

“It doesn’t matter if he makes me question a few things about my faith. He reminds me who I am. How important I am. And I’m willing to make concessions for that. I was willing to make myself look like an idiot at dinner, that first night you and I met, to prove to Dale I’m a good, caring housewife who never questions. Tell me you’ve never played a part, to get something you want.”

But you could want so much more.Her micro rant made me ill and filled me with sympathy for her at the same time. I wanted to tell her how dumb this entire thing was, especially why she’d acted that way at dinner, but berating her wouldn’t help and technically I’d done the exact same thing that night—faked being a good little trophy-wife-to-be.

“What about how important you are to you?” I asked.

She wouldn’t meet my gaze, and while she wasn’t eating, she was pushing a lot of food around its dish.

Maybe I was pushing too hard. “Why did you call me Monday night? You have other friends. People in the church. Your parents.” Though, she was at RinCon alone… Nope. I wasn’t going to make any assumptions. “But you called an almost stranger whose number you got from a business card. Not that I’m upset. I’m glad you did.” Somehow the reinforcement felt important. “But I do wonder why.”

“Because every other time—” The speed and ferocity with which Claire snapped her jaw shut would’ve severed the fork if it had been in her mouth. Her panic vanished, and a smile flitted in.

I found myself staring at the vapid woman who had cheerfully asked me if my first husband was dead, and if that was why I was childless at my age.

“Your name came to mind,” Claire said sweetly.

Nope. “We’re not doing this.” I didn’t have Rosie’s patience. Please, Goddess, don’t let this be a bad idea. “How many other times have there been?”

“They were all my fault.”

I doubted that. “I didn’t ask whose fault it was.”

“I don’t remember.”

“Yes you do.” Because she replayed every one of them, asking herself what she could’ve done differently.

The chair legs made a horrible squeak when she pushed back from the table. “I’ll put the rest of the food away.”

“It will wait.” I grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the chair next to mine, then turned myself so my knees touched hers, and I could look her directly in the eye. “I’m not trying to hurt you. I…”

No one knew this except Xander and Rosie. I’d never even told Cole, because I hated how weak it made me look. “I’ve been in a similar place.”

“With Cole?” The hesitation in Claire’s question was stark.

“No.Fuckno. Cole is the sweetest grumpy teddy bear in existence. Growing up…” I didn’t want to talk about this, but something told me Claire needed to hear it. This was my past and her now, and I wanted it to become her past too.

“My dad kicked my mom out eleven times, plus three halves.” The words didn’t ache the way I expected. Speaking them aloud was like a release. “The three halves were when I convinced her we should go, and she was packed and ready, when whichever well-meaning friend she’d told got word back to Dad. There was always a well-meaning friend. A woman from church that Mom would call when it happened, who would convince her she needed to be more understanding. That she needed to be a better wife.”

The words soured in my gut. It was probably a good thing I hadn’t finished my food.

“Dale doesn’t hit me or anything. Please don’t think that. He drops me at a corner to give me a few days to realize how I’m acting,” Claire said.

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