“Pretty much.”
“That wasn’t love.”
Clare’s expression changed.
I regretted the sentence only because it sounded too personal.
But she nodded.
“I know that now.”
A few seconds passed.
Then she smiled faintly.
“You really hated him.”
“I barely knew him.”
“Exactly.
That’s impressive efficiency.”
I laughed, and the moment passed before either of us could make it more dangerous.
The next morning, we woke tangled together.
There was no graceful explanation.
At some point during the night, the diplomatic border had collapsed.
Clare’s cheek was against my chest.
My arm was around her waist.
One of her legs was hooked over mine.
I opened my eyes and immediately understood three things.
First, the sun was up.
Second, Clare was awake too.
Third, neither of us had moved.
“Morning,” she whispered.
“This appears to violate several agreements.”
“The treaty failed overnight.”
Her hand rested flat against my shirt.
I should have removed my arm.
Instead, my thumb moved once against her side.
Clare inhaled.
Then someone knocked on the door.
We separated so quickly it would have been impressive if it were not humiliating.
Lauren’s voice came through the door.
“Clare? Mom wants everyone downstairs for breakfast.”
Clare covered her face with both hands.
I got out of bed.
“Public emergency?”
She peeked through her fingers.
“Not yet.”
Breakfast turned into an interrogation.
Vivian wanted to know when we planned to marry.
Aunt Marcy had apparently spent part of the night researching venues.
Lauren sat across from us, stirring her coffee without drinking it.
Evan arrived twenty minutes late with his girlfriend and took the empty chair two seats away.
He watched Clare laugh at something I said.
Then he said, “You two seem very comfortable for such a new relationship.”
It sounded casual.
It was not.
Clare’s shoulders tightened.
I put my hand over hers on the table.
“We’ve known each other for years,”
I said.
Lauren finally looked up.
“Yes,” she said.
“We have.”
There was an edge in her voice now.
