A Moment of Truth: A Complete Bonus Set (A Matter of Trust #1-2) (25 page)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I blink a few times.
Is he real . . . or have I finally crossed the threshold into insanity?

He grins, but it’s cautious.

I grin back, my face burning.
Why is he here? He’s here! He’s really here . . . Why is he here? Calm down!

The intercom clicks on. Beverly says, “I’m sorry, Claire, the panel is malfunctioning again. We need to make a few adjustments. Let’s take a five minute break.”

I nod as Dan walks through the door into the recording section of the studio.

My entire body tenses with anticipation. I can hardly breathe.

“Hi,” he says, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans.

“Hi,” I say a little above a whisper, noting how the green of his T-shirt complements his magnificent eyes.
My God, he’s beautiful.

We stare at each other for a few beats until we both start speaking at the same time.

“Dan, I—”

“Claire, that—”

We both blush and smile, releasing some of the tension.

He glances at his feet. “It seems we both have something to say,” Dan says, peeking up at me.

“Yeah, I guess so.” My heart hammers.

He gazes at me for a long moment. “You played that beautifully.”

“Thank you,” I say as another wave of heat sweeps through me.

“Maybe we can talk once you’re done?”

I nod. “Yes, I’d like that.”
Talk. Oh boy.

“I’ll wait for you out in the corridor.” He grins.

“Okay, but it might take a while,” I say nervously.
Maybe he won’t want to stay.

“It’s all right. I’m not going anywhere.”

Completely tongue-tied, I gape at him as if not another person exists, as if we’re totally alone, which we aren’t because Beverly startles us both when she speaks over the intercom. “Claire, we’re all set. We’d like to do another take now.”

I nod at her in reply and look back to Dan.

“I’ll let you get back to it.”

“Okay.”

I watch him walk toward the door. He stops and faces me. “Nice shirt,” he says with a crooked grin before departing.

Oh God, his shirt!
My face flames yet again.

I stare at the keys while a major battle for attention wars in my head.
Music, Dan, music, Dan, music, Dan . . . Focus Claire! You can’t afford to mess this up!

After wrestling my mind for musical focus, we continue the recording session and finish up about an hour later. I gather my things and turn to Beverly. “Thank you so much. I truly appreciate this opportunity.”

Beverly smiles. “You’ve been such a pleasure to work with, Claire. I wish you all the best. And I’ll let Jack know you don’t need a ride back.” She winks.

I smile and nod. Then with a deep breath and butterflies swarming my belly, I open the office door and peer down the hallway.

There he is.

Dan leans against the wall with one leg cocked up behind him . . .
smoking a cigarette?
He smokes?
He’s staring out the window at the end of the hall, blowing wispy plumes of smoke out of his perfect mouth as the sun streams in. He turns my way and snatches the cigarette from his mouth, trying to hide it, but there’s nowhere to dispose of it.

“Hi,” I say, walking over with a massive lump lodged in my throat.

“Would you like to get a cup of coffee or something?”

“I’d really just like to go somewhere to talk if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, all right.” He puts the cigarette back in his mouth as we walk down the hall. Ever the gentleman, he holds open the stairway door for me. I walk past him and grin. I’m at a loss as to what to say, do, how to act, what to think.

Once outside, he flicks his cigarette into a cigarette disposal.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

“Yeah, uh . . .” He rubs the back of his neck. “Only when I’m nervous.”

“I should be smoking, too, then,” I say mostly under my breath.

He chuckles.

After all the time, space, and distance between us, I’m finally next to him—our arms mere inches from the other. I follow him to his car. I’m at once relieved and thrilled, yet completely devastated that he’s no longer mine, which makes me wonder again.
Why is he here?

He opens the car door for me, and once he closes it, I inhale as deep a breath of the soap and shaving cream scent as I can as he walks around the front of the car.

He slides into his seat, and we pull away from the curb. All I want to do is reach over and hug him hard. Kiss him hard. Tell him that I’m beyond sorry, that I’m incredibly thankful, but my nerves keep me frozen and silent.

I focus on my breathing.

“How are you?” he asks quietly.

“I’m okay . . . now,” I say, glancing up from my hands where they tremble in my lap.
He’s more beautiful than I remember
.

He cocks an eyebrow at me.

“How are you?” I ask, my voice shaky from my heart slamming against my ribs.

He nods. “I’m okay . . . now.”

My mind runs wild.
He’s here. I’m here. We’re going to talk
.
Oh God . . . what’s he going to tell me?

The silence in the car stretches on and on, and then I realize where we’re headed—the desolate area, the winding road, my ears popping. In no time, we pull over on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere—the cliff.

“Ready?” he asks, getting out of the car and lighting another cigarette.

Not really.

I get out and follow behind him, down and around the boulders. The late afternoon sun is strong, and the view is astonishing. But I can’t appreciate it. Not with the knot in my stomach.

Just as he reaches the center of the ledge, he exhales a cloud of smoke and spins to face me. “Do you hate me?” he asks, his head cocked back as if waiting to be punched.

I’m completely thrown. “
What
? Why would I hate you?”

He begins pacing. “Because I fucked up your life, Claire. Those photos that ruined your life only came out because of me, because of what I do, not to mention that I was so fucking selfish kissing you in public like that! I knew shit like that could happen, but it didn’t stop me. I just went ahead and did whatever the fuck I wanted! And then I listened to you, and I didn’t phone you every single day like I should have done to see how you were. I just let you drift alone—for seven fucking weeks! I did nothing to help you out of the situation I put you in. I don’t blame you for hating me.”

He stops in front of me, taking a long, hard drag on his cigarette, his eyes on mine.

Horrified, I ask, “Have you thought this the whole time?”

The smoke exits his nose in a hard stream. “Well, why the fuck else wouldn’t you phone me—not even once? Why else?” He flicks his cigarette to the ground, steps on it, and immediately lights a new one.

“Oh God.” His words are a punch to my gut. I slap my hands to my face. I’m so angry with myself! I whip my hands down to look at him and shake my head as tears pool in my eyes. “Oh my God! I am a huge asshole, Dan!
I’m
the one who went up on that stage. That was all me—not you—”

“But it wouldn’t have been in the papers if it weren’t for me.”

“That’s not even the point, Dan, because I’m the selfish one! I didn’t call you because the whole time, all I could focus on was my career—a career that I came to realize was never for me, anyway! I ruined everything between us because not once did I think outside the stupid box!” I wipe my eyes. “And worst of all, I didn’t call because it would have hurt too much to talk to you. I hadn’t even thought about how you felt. And that is the very definition of self-centered. I’m surprised you’re even speaking to me now. No wonder you’re with someone else.”

“What? With who?” he asks, his cigarette nearly falling out of his mouth.

“Sophie. I saw the photos in
Gossip Guru
,” I say quietly, taking a deep breath.

“You know those rags are crap, Claire.”

“Not always—they got us right.”

He steps back a smidge as if I’ve just pushed him.

“Aren’t you going out with her?” I ask anxiously.

“No. You were the one on my mind, Claire. Not her.”

Confused, I say softly, “But she was there this morning giving you your jacket. I hung up because I thought I was interrupting something.”

The smoke streams out of his nostrils again. He shakes his head, flicks his cigarette to the ground and mashes it. “I was on set this morning, Claire, and she brought me the jacket I forgot from wardrobe. We were about to shoot our last scene, which ended up getting delayed since Camille called to tell me you were in town recording your song. It took me phone call after phone call to find out where the fuck you were recording.”

I hang my head and wipe the wetness from my eyes again. “Oh God, what a fucking mess I made!” I take a deep breath and look him square in the eye. “I know it’s not enough, but I’m so sorry. I’m so very sorry. It kills me that for even one second you thought that I hated you. How could I ever hate you? You saved me—twice.”

“Saved you? I put you in this fucking mess.”

“No, you didn’t. When we first met, I did nothing, saw no one—I literally went to work and that was it. I was hiding—existing, at best. But then I met you, and you lit me up, made me want more.”

His brows knit together.

“And the second time, after everything fell apart—”

“Thanks to me.”

“Stop that. I learned so much about myself—things I should’ve realized eons ago—but only figured out by having all of this happen to me. Even still, I thought it was too late to try something else, and I was ready to live someone else’s life
again
until you opened a door for me. So I could never, ever hate you. Like I said you saved me. Twice.”

On the edge, I wait for him to speak, but he only stares at me.
It’s over now. We can’t go back. Too much time has passed. I’ve hurt him too much. At least I got to say what I wanted to say.

His jaw flexes. His eyes search mine in the orange glow of the setting sun for so long.

“Bloody, fucking bollocking hell!” He lunges forward and grabs the sides of my face, pressing his perfect, soft lips against mine.

My entire body melts into his. I’m shocked, relieved . . . ecstatic! We stand on the cliff in the setting sun, kissing and embracing and pouring seven weeks of pent-up emotion into each and every kiss.

Against his lips I whisper, “I’m so sorry, Dan. I’m so sorry. I should have called you. I was just so afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” he says, his lips brushing against mine.

I lean back to look at him, gripping onto his sculpted arms; his hands encircle my waist. “Afraid of how I felt, of getting hurt, but mostly afraid of trusting myself to do what’s been in my heart all this time. It was hard to face all the things I’ve always avoided, but I’ve grown to finally trust my decisions and myself. And I feel like . . .” I stop to breathe. My fears nearly knock me to my knees, but I push through anyway.

“I feel like I’m no longer a ghost, Dan. I’m finally a whole person. I’m done avoiding things and walking on eggshells, and I’m ready to be a partner in a relationship, not just an accessory.” I pause, overwhelmed that this amazing man’s eyes are entirely focused on my lips and words, that we’re finally in the same spot again, warmed by the afternoon sun, with our bodies curved into each other. I gaze at his incredible face as the corner of his lip tugs up into that smirk I’ve missed so desperately.

I steady myself and continue to say exactly what’s on my mind because I’m all done holding back. “I know I don’t deserve it, but would you consider giving me another chance? Be my boyfriend again?”

Not a second later, he lifts me off the ground in a strong embrace. I giggle.

He sets me down yet still holds me tight. “I never wanted it any other way.” He leans down and kisses me—our lips and tongues saying hello and hello and hello.

I pull back. “We’ll always talk things through.”

“Absolutely,” he says, beaming.

“No more assuming, because you know what happens when we assume,” I say, grinning from ear to ear.

He smirks. “It makes an ass out of you and me?”

“Yes, and God knows I’ve been the biggest ass, Dan.”

“No, I’m definitely the bigger arse.”

“No, I am, by far.”

“Do we need to arm wrestle this one out?”

I laugh. “Arm wrestle? I can think of a better kind of wrestling.”

He grins. “Oh really?”

I stand on tiptoe, burying my fingers in his thick hair, and kiss him with everything in me.

With my walls shattered into bits and my barriers cleared away, I’m more vulnerable than I’ve ever been and yet more alive and free . . . and hungrier, too—my stomach growls louder than even the rushing ocean below.

He pulls away. “I guess you need something to eat before we can properly wrestle. Would you like to get some dinner?”

“I would love to. I haven’t really eaten in seven weeks.” I chuckle.

“Neither have I. Come on, let’s find somewhere to eat.” He takes my hand and leads me back to the car, but we both stop at the same time.

“Dan, could we—”

“Claire, would you mind if—”

We laugh.

“Go on,” he says with a quick kiss to the back of my hand.

I beam. “Could we just order something in and hang out at your house or something? Would that be okay?”

He laughs. “It’s as okay as seeing you in my shirt. Let’s go.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

As we get in the car and drive off, he asks, “What do you think about Chinese? I haven’t had that in a few days.”

I smile wide. “I see you’re still eating well.”

He laughs. “I still have Lucky Charms in the cupboard, so yeah, I’d say I’m eating well.”

“Chinese is perfect.”

He snatches my hand and rests our intertwined fingers on the gearshift. “That’s better.”

I’m so happy that I’m waiting for fireworks to burst from inside me.

We drive on, sneaking peeks at one another and blushing when we get caught. It’s all so sappy and dorky but yet so real and so right.

“Where are you staying?”

“At the Hyatt.”

“The one on Sunset?”

“Yeah.”

We’re quiet for a moment as I look out my window, not seeing one palm tree, but entirely focused on the feel of his thumb stroking the back of my hand.
God, how I’ve missed him!

He clears his throat, and when I look over, he’s swallowing hard, seemingly nervous.

“Um, would you like to . . . stay at my house instead? You don’t have to—there’s no pressure or anything—but I thought maybe it would be more comfortable or something, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to; I was only suggesting it because we haven’t seen each other, but then, of course, because we haven’t seen each other, I don’t want you to feel funny, or if it makes you uncomfortable, or if you just don’t want to it’s—”

“Dan?”

“Yeah?”

“I’d love to stay with you,” I say, squeezing his hand and smiling wide.

He exhales. “Oh, okay . . . okay, good.”

“They don’t have Lucky Charms at the hotel.” I shrug and grin.

He laughs. “I see you’re still a smartarse.”

“No, I’m just happy. I only say obnoxious things when I’m happy.”

We laugh.

“We’ll swing by and get your stuff now?”

“That would be great. Thank you.”

“All right,” he says, resuming his mind-numbing thumb-stroking on my hand.

We decide it’s best if I run into the hotel alone, so I head in, grab my things, check out, and get back in the car.

“Okay, all set.”

Soon enough we’re standing on the stoop of his house. He fiddles with his keys and says, “Now listen, the last time you were here, I knew you were coming and this time, well, I obviously didn’t, so I didn’t have time to tidy up, and I’ve been especially careless with housework for the last . . .” He clears his throat. “Seven weeks, so—”

“I don’t care about how messy your house is, Dan.”

“If you say so.” He turns the key and opens the door.

It’s nothing short of a disaster. Clothes are everywhere—on furniture, over furniture, and dare I say, even under furniture. Books are stacked high, and papers are scattered all over the table; dishes are collecting in the sink, and pizza boxes and wrappers of all sorts cover the counters.

“How much cleaning did you do last time?” I say, gaping at the mess.

“A lot.” He snickers.

I tug on his hand. “You are very sweet, among other things.”

“Other things, eh?”

I smile. “I’ll help you clean up a little so we can eat and, um, sit.”

“Let’s order first,” he says, placing my suitcase down. I follow him into the kitchen. He reaches into a drawer, pushes a mass of papers around and somehow pulls out a Chinese food menu.

“Voilà!” he says, holding it up proudly.

“How did you find that in there?”

“Oh, that’s my takeaway drawer.”

“I can’t believe you have a drawer of just menus.”

“Well, I like to stay organized.” He snorts.

“Right. Of course.”

I stand next to him as he unfolds the menu for us, his body heat radiating that intoxicating soap and shaving cream scent. I look down at the menu, not reading a word, just staring at his fingertips that hold it. A huge smile breaks across my face. I’m overwhelmed that he’s right next to me, and even though things happened, I’m here. He’s here. We’re right here, together, in his completely trashed house.

“Why are you so smiley? You like Chinese food that much?” he asks, grinning at me suspiciously.

“Yes, that’s it.” I chuckle.

Dan calls in the order while I head to the bathroom. When I flick on the light, I make a shocking discovery—the bathroom is spotless.

Not one thing is out of place. The towels are folded, the floor sparkles, the potty seat’s down—the works! After I freshen up, I head out into the living room to find Dan sniffing the clothes that bury the sofa.

“Dan?” Now I have
two
questions to ask.

“Yeah?” he says, holding up a shirt to his nose and breathing in.

“First, why is your bathroom completely clean when the rest of your house is a disaster and, second, what are you doing?”

He stops sniffing the shirt and chuckles. “Yeah, the bathroom is the only thing the cleaning lady can still do. I stopped picking stuff up off the floor and whatnot before she’d come, so the bathroom was the only thing she could really clean. Told her not to worry about anything else.” He tosses the shirt in his hand onto one of two hills on the couch. “And I’m trying to sort the clean from the dirty so we can sit.” He picks up another shirt, sniffs it, and tosses it onto a pile.

“Is that the clean pile or the dirty one?”

“That one is clean, that one is dirty,” he says, pointing.

“Would you like me to fold the clean ones?” I ask, grinning.

He stops and smiles. “If you want to.”

I fold while I watch him continue to sniff and pile. “So you’re all done with filming then?” I ask, folding a shirt.

“Yeah, today was our last day, barring any reshoots. I think it turned out well enough, though.” Sniff. Toss.

“That’s good. Do you start the next one soon? You have a next one, right?” I ask, folding a sweatshirt.

“Yes, I do have another one, thankfully. The next one films in Mexico, but I have about three weeks off before I have to be there,” he says, sniffing one shirt again and again, trying to decide its fate.

“Three weeks? Nice. Are you going home to London?” I ask as he tosses the shirt onto the dirty pile.

He smiles. “I don’t have any plans, actually. When are you supposed to leave?”

“Tomorrow afternoon,” I mutter.

“Oh.”

We’re silent for a moment, and then we start talking at the same time again.

“I don’t have to—”

“You don’t have to—”

We laugh.

“You go,” I say, smiling and holding the next shirt to fold.

“You don’t have to leave tomorrow if you don’t want to. I have three weeks off, and I’d love to spend more time with you.”

“Well, considering I just got paid a king’s ransom for one song, and I don’t have any sort of job to rush back to, I think I can manage to stay longer.”

He nods and beams—and I mean
beams
. He knows it, too, and tries to hide it by sniffing the next shirt extra hard.

For a few quiet moments, I stand there watching my sweet boyfriend and realize that my heart has already fallen, tumbled over and under, up and around, deeper and deeper and deeper into . . . I’m not holding back anymore.

“Dan?”

His eyes meet mine after he grabs another shirt. “Yeah?”

“I love you.”

He drops the shirt and then catches it against his legs as his face turns beet red. “What?” he mumbles, his mouth dangling open.

“I’ve fallen in love you.”

He’s about to speak when the buzzer for the outside gate sounds at the door. He remains speechless and frozen.

“I’ll get that,” I say, smiling. I walk over to press the gate button for the Chinese food delivery. When I spin back to face him, he’s right there. I almost knock into his chest.

He says nothing, simply cups my face with both hands and kisses me. His mouth presses harder to mine as the moments tick past.

The door opens and startles us both. We quickly step apart.

“Claire?”

“Oh, hi, Colin,” I say, smiling and blushing.

“Bloody brilliant! Dan can stop getting pissed and punching me now!” Colin grabs me into a tight hug and then swings me around. I can’t help but laugh.

“Would you put her down, you arse? You’re going to hurt her,” Dan scolds, grabbing Colin’s arm.

Colin puts me down. “I’m not going to hurt her, you plonker. I’m just happy to see her. Now you can stop being a prick. You are back, right, Claire? Tell me you’re back.”

I grin. “Yes, I’m back, Colin. What’s this about Dan punching you?”

Colin slings his arm around my shoulders and leads us to the spot on the sofa Dan and I cleared. We sit while Dan stands watching us, his arms crossed.

“Oh, Claire. If you only knew the hell I endured while you were gone. He wouldn’t even let me watch
Grease
.”

I hold back a laugh and glance up at Dan’s sour face. I turn my attention back to Colin. “Why wouldn’t he let you watch
Grease
?”

“I don’t know. He knows it’s my favorite movie, but I guess when you spend half of your day pissed, it’s easy to get irritable.”

“You were drunk a lot?” I didn’t expect that one.

Dan doesn’t answer, but his jaw tightens.

The door buzzer sounds again.

“You guys having a party you didn’t invite me to?” Colin asks.

“Yeah, a party for
two
,” Dan says as he heads to the door.

“We just ordered some dinner,” I say. “Do you want to stay?”

“No, he does not want to stay!” Dan shouts from the door.

“I’d love to stay, thanks,” Colin says with a huge, smug smile. He leans back on the sofa, stretching his arms out.

Dan comes back in the living room with the bag of Chinese food. “You are not staying.”

“Why not? Claire said I could.” Colin walks into the kitchen.

Dan huffs. “Fine. But no eating all the spring rolls like you did last time, and you are not sleeping here tonight.” Dan unloads the food from the bag onto the coffee table we cleaned off.

Colin returns from the kitchen with some paper plates and plastic utensils. “I’ve been staying here since Kyle left, so now where am I going to sleep?”

“Sleep at Adam’s house.”

“I barely know Adam. He just joined the band, and you want me to crash at his house?”

“Yeah. You two can bond,” Dan says, handing me a plate of food and a fork.

“Fine,” Colin agrees reluctantly, grabbing a plate and loading it up.

“How is your band, Colin?” I ask, curling up next to Dan with my plate resting on my lap.

Colin makes himself at home on the recliner and drags the coffee table up to his knees. He leans forward and prepares to shovel. “It’s good. We’ve just been signed, and we’ll record some stuff soon, maybe open for The Footfalls this summer.”

“Oh wow, that’s great! Congratulations! So, Adam is new?”

“Yeah,” Colin says, between chews. “Kyle left so Adam came on board to play drums.”

“Very cool.”

“How about you? Camille said you were a librarian?” Colin asks.

Dan starts coughing and choking, so I slap his back a few times. With a red face, he chokes out, “You were a librarian?” He shoots Colin a death glare. “And you knew?”

Colin bursts out laughing.

“What?” I’m very confused.

Colin turns to Dan. “Mate, if I told you that she was a librarian, you would have exploded.” Colin turns to me. “He has a thing for librarians . . . and Wonder Woman.”

I giggle, glancing at Dan. “Really?”

Dan shifts his food around his plate and huffs.

“Good to know.” I take a bite of my lo mein.

“Are you going back to work at the library when you get home?” Colin asks.

“No, my last day was Friday. I don’t have a job, actually.” I snort at the scariness of that.

“What about the teaching thing?” Colin asks before eating half a spring roll in one bite.

“It’s not for me anymore. Actually, it was never my thing, per se. It was a good job, but honestly, my heart is in music, so I’m hoping to do something with that. I guess we’ll see.”

“Well, seems the music plan worked, eh, Dan?” Colin winks at Dan, grinning.

“You make it sound like it was some sort of scheme. It wasn’t, Claire. It all sort of happened accidentally.”

“That’s because you had her songs playing on a loop.” Colin chuckles and chomps on the other half of the spring roll.

“That’s why the director wanted to know what I was listening to, you arse.”

“You didn’t pass out my music on purpose?” I ask.

“No. The director visited my trailer to talk with me, and I had your song playing. He asked about it, but I never told him you were—”

“The one that I want,” Colin sings,
Grease
style.

“Sod off with the
Grease
, Colin. But no, I didn’t say you were my girlfriend. I gave him your name and number, but that was it.”

Colin cuts in, saying, “Dan didn’t think you’d go for it. He knew they were going to phone you, but then Camille called to say you got the teaching job—that’s when Dan, well, let’s just say that it was a pretty rough night.”

My heart drops.
“A rough night?”
Oh God, what does that mean?
“I’m sorry, Dan.” It’s all I can think to say as waves of guilt crash over me. Even though my time alone afforded me insights into my life, the fact that I hurt him kills me. Tears fill my eyes, so I keep my gaze trained on my fork, counting tines.

“You okay?” Dan leans over, trying to look into my downcast eyes. “Why don’t you put
Grease
on, Colin?”

“Fucking serious? Yeah!” Colin says. From the corner of my eye I see Colin’s feet nearly sprint to the DVD player.

“Get the lights, too?” Dan asks Colin. Colin shuts down the lights as the movie begins.

I breathe slowly, gaining control over my emotions, when Dan’s hand slides across my back, drawing light circles. A few moments later, he reaches for my plate and places it next to his on the coffee table. He scoots closer, puts his arm around me, and tucks me into his side.

I peek up at the television to distract myself with the movie. The back of Dan’s knuckles stroke up and down my arm as he presses a kiss to the top of my head, whispering, “It’s okay.”

I stay in the nook of his arm, my body tense against his side.
Soap . . . shaving cream . . .
Eventually, between Colin quietly singing along to the songs and Dan’s gentle touches, my body relaxes—from my neck to my shoulders to my waist to my toes.

* * *

“Dan,” I call as covertly as I can, spotting the glamorous yet creepy woman nearby.

“Dan?” I say again, but he still doesn’t hear me. I sneak closer to him, and that’s when he turns to the magnificent beast and says, “I love you, Sophie.” He wraps his arms around her waist, grinding his hips into hers. Their kiss lasts days. Her eyes open and shift to mine.

She breaks their kiss and nods at me. A smug, evil smile crawls across her flawless face. “What about her, Dan?”

Dan turns my way but looks right past me.

“Who?”

She cackles. “Never mind, Dan,” she hisses as she begins unbuttoning his shirt.

“No!”

I shoot up. My heart slams in my chest. I rub my eyes, confused. It’s so dark. “Why can’t Dan see me? Where is she?”

Something touches my arm. “Claire?”

“Ahh!” I jump back.

“Claire, it’s okay, it’s me . . . I can see you. Where is who?”

I hear a click and then the bedside lamp turns on. I shield my eyes; it’s too bright.

“You’re crying,” Dan says gently, sitting up and squinting. “It was just a nightmare.”

I’m breathing hard as realization seeps into my sleepy mind. “I’m in your bed . . . how did I get here?”

“You fell asleep on the sofa. You were sleeping so soundly, so I carried you in here. Was that okay?” he asks, wiping the tears from my cheeks.

“You carried me?”

He nods.

“And you’re here with
me
?”

“Of course,” he says, stroking my head, my hair.

I inhale a strong, cleansing breath. “I dreamt that you were with . . . her.” I wipe my eyes again, realizing that I’m still wearing the clothes from earlier in the day—his shirt and my jeans.

“With who?”