“ARE you sure about this?” Sally asked, her concern weighing as heavily as the delicate burden balanced between Claire’s fingertips.
It was a small lacquered box, constructed of wood so thin, it threatened to crumble under even the most careful touch. Claire didn’t look at it often. Seldom allowed herself to even think about it tucked into that safe corner, deep in the recesses of her walk-in closet. But it was there. This little treasure box of broken dreams.
Tucking one leg beneath her, she sat at the edge of the bed and opened the lid. As always, the sight of the few items within pulled at the dark places in her soul, freeing a destructive love that made her want to clutch the box tight to her chest until it shattered against her heart.
Sally settled across from her, carefully steadying the box as her slight weight shifted the mattress. Then, with one finger, she stroked the pale green nubs of a single half-finished bootie nestled within and whispered, “Soft.”
The hushed word, both caring and reverent, loosened something within Claire and she smiled across at her friend. “Isn’t it? This was my great-aunt’s pattern and her hook.” Then pulling up a layer of tissue, she withdrew a photo and passed it across to Sally, who gingerly held it by the edges.
“Oh, wow, is that you?” she asked, pointing to the twelve-year-old version of the woman before her. “Your family is beautiful.”
They were. And the love she’d felt when that family snapshot had been taken was beautiful too. She’d never believed it to be a conditional thing, or that the possibility of that love being revoked could exist.
She’d been so naive on so many counts.
After carefully replacing the photo, Claire moved on to what she’d come for. A slender platinum band, worn thin at the base, and channel set with five diamond chips. Ryan’s grandmother’s wedding ring.
Her wedding ring.
She could still feel Ryan sliding that symbol of eternity over her fourth finger. Still feel that hollow pit opening in her belly when she realized it didn’t belong there.
“You don’t have to do this, Claire. I mean, did he even ask for it?”
She shook her head. Ryan would never ask for it back, but that didn’t mean he shouldn’t have it. The ring belonged in his family. Whether he married again or not. And returning it with the papers seemed like the appropriate thing to do.
“I’ve held on to it long enough.” It was time she let go.
Sally snapped open the lid on a small black velvet box they’d picked up at the jeweler’s that morning.
Fingering the delicate band one last time, Claire felt the cool trail of a tear slip down her cheek. Surprised, she laughed, wiping it away.
“Claire?”
Waving off Sally’s growing concern, she set the band against its silk pillow and closed the box. “I’ll be fine. I was before. I will be again.”
Maybe if she said it enough times, eventually she’d start to believe it.
“So what do you think?”
Ryan’s head snapped up and his stare locked on Ty Baker, the man seated across the conference table. Then shot over to Denis, who signaled with the barest nod as an IM popped up on the open laptop in front of him.
“You called it. They’re willing to give on every point, except the water rights.”
Thank God for Denis. The man didn’t let anything slip past, including his jackass boss taking a brain break in the middle of high-stakes negotiations.
“Ty, I think we can work something out. Let me go over the new numbers and we’ll talk Monday.”
“Fair enough.” They pushed back from their seats and met at the door to shake hands. “This one’s going to make us a lot of money, Brady.”
Yeah, if only Ryan could care enough about it to keep his focus until the deal closed.
Once the Baker team departed, Denis turned a cool eye on him.
“It won’t happen again,” he answered to the unspoken What the hell? Denis was shooting him.
“Are you sure? I’ve never seen you drop the ball like that. Not after thirty hours of negotiations, not ever.”
Ryan’s molars ground down as his jaw clenched in self-directed frustration. “I know.” Like he knew his performance affected people beyond himself. He had to get it together. Had to stop spiraling into that state of Claire he couldn’t quite break free from.
Denis blew out a breath and scanned the ceiling, looking more out of his element than Ryan had ever seen him.
Oh, come on. Denis couldn’t quit.
Okay, he’d messed up today, but they’d been together for seven years. “Something else you want to say, Denis?”
“I realize these last few weeks have been difficult for you. And I’m wondering—” the man actually pulled at his collar before turning a strained, sympathetic eye on him “—if you’d like to…talk about it.”
Hell. No.
Ryan wanted to puke. Denis, his hard-hitting, all-business rock of an assistant was not asking him if he needed a hug and some ice cream.
“That bad?”
Denis weighed the question long enough to where the answer was obvious.
“Forget I asked. Get me the revised offer for Baker and then take off.”
At Denis’s nod and quick exit, Ryan headed back to his office.
After a few minutes the email arrived with the updated file, Ryan’s schedule for the coming week, and a notice that the settlement agreement had been dropped off for Claire’s signature.
He’d known the papers would be delivered today. Had been telling himself it was a good thing. That once they were signed, he’d be able to put her behind him. Close his eyes without seeing the smile that was heartbreak, acceptance and longing all wound into one as Claire had watched that little boy in her studio. Her hair whipping like black ribbons in the wind as she crouched above a tide pool, marveling at the starfish she’d found within. He’d stop dreaming of her each night, reaching for her every morning and taking it like a slug to the gut when he remembered what they had wasn’t what either of them wanted and that the sultry moans and breathless laughter were only echoes of a time come and gone.
For him.
One of these days, she’d be giving them to someone else. She’d move on to some chump who’d been ready, waiting in the wings. Because that’s what strong, intelligent, sexy, alluring women did when they finally put their past behind them.
That’s what he wanted for her, so why the hell did he want to drive down to New York, foot to the floor, and stake out her place. Just lie in wait to sabotage the next guy who thought to press for a kiss or a laugh or a smile or one instant of her attention.
Damn it, what was wrong with him!
Shoving away from his desk, the schedules and the deals he’d been counting on to work him into an emotional oblivion that hadn’t come, Ryan stalked to the window.
It was staying light later these days and the city of Boston was spread out beneath him in evening’s muted glow. Cabs and cars cut through the streets as the sidewalks emptied of suits and began filling with style. Women laughing as they headed out for a night on the town. Couples walking together, some holding hands, others simply creating an intimacy between them identifiable even from four floors above.
He and Claire had walked these streets. They’d gotten dinner at a popular restaurant a few blocks down. Spent the night making plans. They’d been so damn happy then. He’d had everything. A career on the rise. A wife he loved. Their child on the way. Looking back now, though, all he could see was what he’d been about to lose. Everything that mattered.
He wondered if he could go back to the kid he’d been and warn himself about the failures, the heartbreak and the futility that fate had in store for him, if he’d have been willing to give up those good times with Claire to spare himself that future. If he’d have been willing to cut that time short by even one day.
No. Because the kid he’d been then hadn’t yet learned how to quit. Or fail. Or stop trying. And sure as hell not when it came to something as important as what he had with Claire.
Hell, even after his firsthand experience with all the pain, years later he’d tried again—
The thought stopped him cold.
Was that what he’d been doing, trying again?
No, it had been an affair. Attraction. Chemistry. Closure…
Because on some level he still hadn’t let himself believe it was over.
On some level, he didn’t want to let her go. At all. Which was why at every opportunity he’d had to maintain a modicum of distance between them, he’d instead pulled her closer. Found a way to further infiltrate all the parts of her life she’d tried to deny him access to. Her home. The gallery. Those last dark secrets of her past.
And maybe that was why Claire’s shutting him out again—giving him that taste of history repeating itself he just couldn’t swallow—had made him so nuts. Pushed him to the point where he couldn’t let her go without burning across the country to demand something more.
Only, when she’d actually given him more, given him that last chance to tell her he wanted something real, he’d been too lost in the pain and the past and his failures and fears to take it.
A violent curse tore out of him as he stalked across the office, slammed a hand against the wall and closed his eyes.
What the hell was he doing?