Page 59 of Passing Notes
I pulled back so I could look her in the eye. “Wait a minute, stop. Clara, who told you that you’re difficult? We need to get into this so I can fix it. I don’t want anything standing in our way, okay? Tell me who it was. Better yet, give me an address and I’ll show him what the word difficult really means.”
She patted my chest and offered me a weak smile. “No, I’m okay. I swear.”
“You’re entitled to your feelings, Clara. You feel what you feel. I feel what I feel. Then we work it out. That’s how relationships should work, remember?”
“Um, I mean . . .”
“I just want to understand you.”
“Get in line. That’s my number one goal too, hence my many years of therapy.”
I sifted a hand through her hair, brushing the soft strands over her shoulder. “I wish you could trust me again. I wish—god, I wish so many things. It’s pointless to list them all.” She took my hand in both of hers, bringing it up to her lips to kiss the back.
“I understand, really, I do. But even I don’t trust myself. You should run while you still have a chance.”
I leaned my forehead against hers and whispered, “I don’t have a chance, not anymore. I’m gone for you again, heartbreaker.”
“Oh, Nick. I’m trying.” She closed her eyes. “I promise I am.”
“Maybe you can go to the Fall Festival with me and the kids. We can keep it casual, neighborly. You can get to know the kids better with zero pressure.” It was a longshot, but why not ask? What could it hurt?
Clara was great with Sasha and Ethan, and I wanted them to end up feeling close to her. My mother’s remarriage ruined my family, and I wanted better for my kids.
“I would love to . . .”
“But . . . ?” My skeptical look made her laugh.
“My mom has had a booth there every year since the farm got successful. Gracie and I are on duty with her for this one. You can bring them by and visit me, though. I would love that.”
“Am I allowed to ask if you’re okay with working with your mom? If you don’t want to talk about it, say the word.”
“Yes, of course you’re allowed. This year will be the first time I’ll be okay with being there with her.” She looked more at ease talking about her mom than I’d ever seen. “She’s getting help, Nick. Being around her doesn’t feel like pretending or playacting family life anymore, if that makes any sense at all. I mean, it feels like we have an actual shot at being a real family.”
My eyebrows shot up. “That’s amazing.” I was so glad to hear it. Clara deserved to have her mother’s genuine affection.
“She acknowledged how badly she treated us when we were growing up and apologized for it. She even offered insight into what was going on in her life and why she was so angry all the time. I mean, it’s getting better and better, but it’s still—never mind. It’s just a bunch of old insecurities I’m dealing with.”
“Hey. You can tell me.”
“I don’t quite know how to be fully at ease around her when I can’t completely trust her yet. I constantly question everything.” Her voice was fragile; she was fragile.
My heart lurched in my chest, but I had to hold myself back instead of holding her like I wanted to. The urge to pull her close so I could try to absorb her pain was achingly familiar. This was the Clara I remembered, and I wanted her back.
I wanted her mine.
I wanted all the fucking years we’d wasted gone so I could follow my instincts instead of fighting against them while I waited for her to trust me again.
We used to talk about ourselves and our lives at home all the time. We’d worked out our problems together; she’d been my best friend. The mouthy, defiant Clara was definitely part of her personality and always had been, but it felt like she hid behind it now to protect herself. It made me sad because I could tell it was hard for her to open up like this with me now.
“Is she giving you a hard time?”
“No, she says she understands.” She paused, gathering her thoughts. “But it’s the opposite of how she’s always been, so it feels weird. It almost makes it harder to accept the changes she’s making.”
“All you can do take it day by day. Kind of what we need to do with each other too, right?”
She pulled back and quirked an eyebrow in my direction. “Are you really this patient?”
“When it comes to you, I am. Well, I’m trying to be. But I have to admit something—I’m exhausted. I can’t sleep anymore.”