Page 83 of Enticed
“Are you looking for some grand gesture then? Like a public declaration of love?” Cash smirks and I narrow my eyes at him.
“I guess?”
“Fuck, I feel like we’re in a romantic comedy right now and any moment Clara is going to come in here with a boombox above her head, serenading you with a love song and shouting out loud to everyone that she loves you.”
“Well, it would be cheesy and uncomfortable to watch—but it would be more than she’s done so far.”
“I don’t know.. she’s obviously put some thoughts into these gifts,” Cash gestures to the bag still sitting on my desk.
“I’m not denying that. But I want her heart, Cash, not food or tennis balls or a basket for my bike.”
“Damn, man. If this is what loves does to you, then it’s no wonder I’ve avoided it.”
I shake my head at him before placing a hand on his shoulder as we both stand. “Don’t worry. When your time comes, I’ll be sure to give you just as much shit as you’ve given me.”
“Not gonna happen,” he says confidently before we make our way to the cruiser and begin our shift.
I’m at war with whether I should reach out to her, send her a text or call to let her know that I got her gifts. But something is holding me back. I don’t need the material stuff from her. I just want her—in my bed, in my life, in my arms in front of our family and friends.
As if the universe is trying to tell me something, two days later a text message pops up on my phone from her with a picture attached.
It’s a landscape shot of a bridge overlooking a body of water with the sun setting in the background, the rays cutting through the spaces between a bunch of high-rise buildings. Beneath it is a message.
Clara: I’m currently in Boston for a meeting and decided to walk around the city. When I stopped here and saw this view, you were the first person I thought of. This isn’t my first time being here, but it’s the first time I’ve realized that everything seems more magical when I get to share it with you. I want to share this with you someday, Cooper—exploring a new city, taking in the sights, strolling along a bridge while holding your hand. I want it more than I thought possible.
My eyes close as I try to picture her there—a slight breeze blowing through her hair, the sunlight bouncing off of the delicate curves of her face, her lips slightly parted as she breathes in deeply.
Fuck, I miss her lips. And her body. And her jokes. And her addiction to ice cream.
I just missher.
I struggle to find something to say, something to clarify what shewantsto hear—but all I feel is a wave of resentment come over me, thinking about how we ended up here in the first place. And as my fingers move across the keys, I send her words that aren’t sweet, but what I think sheneedsto hear.
Me: We could have had that, Clara. I want that too. But I still don’t think you realize what you really want, because if you did, you’d realize what you need to do.
I see that the message has been delivered but she never replies. I even fought sleep for a few hours in case a text came through, but eventually my exhaustion won.
The next day I make it through my shift, knowing my weekend starts after I clock out, but there’s a heaviness hanging over my heart throughout the day.
Maybe I was too harsh? Maybe I should have been nicer, more encouraging? Funny how over a week ago I was fucking livid and had nothing but anger for her, and now I’m worried that I hurt her feelings.
An hour after I get home and change, settling into my couch to watch some mindless television, my phone rings and I pounce to get it until I see the name flashing across the screen, and worry takes over.
“Kane?” I answer, curious why my future brother-in-law is calling right now. Usually he just sends a text if there’s something I need to know.
“Hey, Coop.”
“Is everything okay with Liv and Evelyn? You never call…”
“Oh, yeah, the girls are fine,” he replies, making me blow out a hot breath of air. I visited them once they got home from the hospital and once last week—but I’m not gonna lie, some baby cuddles could probably brighten my mood.
“Then what’s up?”
“Uh, it’s actually about Clara…” he starts, making me sit up tall on the edge of my couch.
“Is she okay?” The worry is back, followed by irritation, followed by longing again to see her. The rollercoaster of feelings I have towards her right now is making me crazy.
“Fuck man… I hate to be the one to tell you this, but she’s wasted at Tony’s right now.”