Chương 9
He had never said he had no savings.
Claire understood that.
Still.
“You let me pay your family’s hotel rooms while you had twenty-two thousand dollars.”
“I was keeping an emergency fund.”
“So was I.”
“That’s not the same.”
She laughed.
“There it is again.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“You always have a reason your money needs protection and mine doesn’t.”
“That’s not fair.”
Claire looked at him.
He stopped.
“Right,” he said.
He sat at the kitchen table.
For once, he did not defend himself.
Claire remained standing.
“I can transfer the savings.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because then you’ll have no emergency fund.”
He looked confused.
“I’m not trying to ruin you.”
“I deserve—”
“Don’t.”
He stopped.
Claire pulled out the chair opposite him.
“Do not make repayment into a way to punish yourself.”
“I’m trying to do the right thing.”
“Then do it sustainably.”
“You’re giving me financial advice?”
“Yes.”
“After I used you financially?”
Claire flinched at the phrasing.
Ethan saw it.
“Sorry.”
“No. Don’t change the word.”
He looked down.
Claire folded her hands.
“Send me the spreadsheet. We’ll separate shared expenses from things I freely agreed to. Then we’ll decide what repayment is reasonable.”
He stared at her.
“You don’t have to be this nice.”
“I’m not being nice.”
“What are you being?”
“Finished.”
That hurt both of them.
Ethan looked toward the facedown photograph on the console table.
“I told Mom I’m not speaking to her for a while.”
Claire said nothing.
“She says you turned me against her.”
“That was fast.”
“I told her you didn’t.”
“Did she believe you?”
“No.”
Claire almost said something cruel.
Instead she asked, “Where are you staying?”
“Mark’s.”
“That’ll go well.”
“He’s already labeled shelves in his refrigerator.”
“That sounds like Mark.”
“It’s terrifying.”
For a moment they were simply two people who had known each other long enough to share a joke.
Claire looked at him and felt grief move through her so suddenly she had to grip the edge of the table.
Ethan’s face changed.
“Claire.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Neither are you.”
He looked down.
She stood.
“I need you to go.”
He nodded.
At the door, he turned.
“I really did love you.”
Claire leaned against the frame.
“I know.”
He looked startled.
She continued.
“That’s part of what makes it terrible.”
After he left, Claire locked the door.
Then she unlocked it because his key was still on his ring.
Then she remembered he had left it on the kitchen counter.
She locked the door again.
She sat on the floor in the hallway for twenty minutes.
Nothing happened.
Eventually the air-conditioning came on.
A delivery truck stopped outside.
Her leg fell asleep.
Claire got up and made coffee.
On Monday morning she went to work.
Rachel objected.
Melissa objected.
Her manager, Denise, told her to take the week.
Claire said no.
At 9:07 a.m. she sat through a meeting about hospital claims forecasting while three people argued over a chart color.
It was the most comforting thing that had happened all weekend.
Nobody knew.
Or if they did, they behaved professionally enough not to show it.
At lunch, Denise closed Claire’s office door.
“I’m going to say something as your boss and then something as your friend.”
Claire looked up from her salad.
“I don’t think managers are supposed to announce the transition.”
“As your boss, you can take personal leave.”
“No.”
“As your friend, your ex-fiancé’s mother called reception.”
Claire stopped chewing.
“What?”
“She asked for you.”
“When?”
“Twenty minutes ago.”
Claire put down her fork.
“What did she say?”
“Reception transferred her to me because you were in a meeting. She said she needed to discuss a financial misunderstanding that could affect Ethan’s reputation.”
Claire leaned back.
Denise waited.
“What did you tell her?”
“That workplace reception is not the right channel for personal disputes.”
Claire closed her eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.”
“I hate this.”
“I gathered.”
Claire pressed two fingers against the bridge of her nose.
“Did she threaten anything?”
“No.”
“Did she mention the company?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Denise watched her.
“Do I need to know anything that could actually affect your work?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Denise nodded.
“Then I don’t care who paid for the champagne wall.”
Claire stared.
Denise’s mouth twitched.
“People talk.”
Claire groaned.
“Please kill me.”
“I already approved your PTO request.”
“I didn’t submit one.”
“Exactly.”
Claire laughed.
Then she took Tuesday off.
Margaret called again that evening.
Claire did not answer.
Then Margaret sent a message.
I would like the opportunity to apologize.
Claire stared at it for several minutes.
Rachel, who was on video chat, said, “Absolutely not.”
“You don’t even know what I’m thinking.”
“I know your face.”
“I might want to hear her.”
“Why?”
Claire considered.
“Because I keep hearing her version in my head anyway.”
Rachel frowned.
“That is annoyingly reasonable.”
“Thank you.”
“I didn’t mean it as praise.”
Claire agreed to meet Margaret Wednesday morning at a coffee shop halfway between their homes.
Public.
Neutral.
No hotel chandeliers.
Margaret arrived seven minutes early.
Claire noticed because Margaret was almost never early.
She wore navy trousers and a cream blouse instead of the expensive dresses Claire associated with her. Her hair was pulled back.
She looked smaller.
Claire disliked feeling sympathy.
They ordered coffee.
Margaret sat across from her and folded a paper napkin into quarters.
“I should not have called your office.”
“No.”
“I was angry.”
“Yes.”
“I also shouldn’t have struck your phone.”
“No.”
Margaret looked up.
“This is going to be difficult if you only say no.”
Claire took a sip of coffee.
“You asked to apologize.”
Margaret looked back at the napkin.
“You always did have a very efficient way of being angry.”
Claire almost smiled.
“That wasn’t an apology.”
“No.”
Margaret unfolded the napkin.
Then folded it again.
“I am sorry.”
Claire waited.
Margaret’s eyes sharpened.
“You could help a little.”
“Why?”
“Because this is humiliating.”
“For you?”
May you like
“For everyone.”
Claire said nothing.
