“Don’t make it sentimental.”
Then she walked away.
Back upstairs that night, the single bed waited exactly where we had left it.
Clare kicked off her shoes and sat on the edge.
“We survived the wedding.”
“Barely.”
“Evan didn’t smirk during the last dance.”
“Maybe his face got tired.”
She smiled, but it faded quickly.
“Marcus, what you said in the garden…”
There it was.
The conversation I had been avoiding for more than a year.
I sat in the chair across from her.
“I meant it.”
“Which part?”
“That I care what you think.”
She swallowed.
“That doesn’t have to mean anything.”
“It does to me.”
Clare went very still.
I could have protected myself with a joke.
Instead, I told her the truth.
“Somewhere along the way, you stopped being Lauren’s sister.
Then you stopped being just my friend.
I didn’t say anything because I liked having you in my life more than I wanted to risk losing you.”
Her eyes filled, though she did not cry.
“How long?”
“Long enough that agreeing to be your fake fiancé was probably evidence of poor judgment.”
She laughed shakily.
Then she stood and walked toward me.
“You idiot.”
“That seems unnecessarily harsh after a confession.”
“Do you know why I asked you?”
“You said I was kind and owned a suit.”
“That was the safe answer.”
She stopped in front of me.
“The real answer was that when I imagined walking into that room with someone beside me, you were the only person I wanted there.
Not because Evan would be jealous.
Not because Lauren would be surprised.
Because when I’m with you, I don’t feel like I’m performing being okay.”
My chest tightened.
“Clare.”
“And the ring emoji wasn’t entirely sarcasm.”
I blinked.
She smiled through her embarrassment.
“I had just left your house that night.
Mom was asking whether there was anyone in my life.
I panicked because the answer I wanted to give her was complicated.”
That was the reversal I had never let myself expect.
Not a hotel mistake.
Not a fake engagement becoming inconvenient.
Clare had been hiding behind the same friendship I was.
I stood.
We were close enough now that neither of us could pretend the air between us was ordinary.
“Are we still under the no-kissing rule?” I asked.
She glanced toward the door.
