Pieces of You (Shattered Hearts) (19 page)

Xander shakes his head with disappointment. “You know I love Claire, but I don’t like this one bit. You’re going to lose a lot of momentum if you hold off on this album for personal reasons. The release date has been circulating for weeks. Everybody’s expecting it early Summer. If you skip the trip to L.A., there is no way you’ll get it done by then.” He stares me in the eye for a moment before he continues. “Are you absolutely sure that this is what you want?”

“As sure as I am that you’re going to cry like a bitch when I leave this office.”

He shrugs. “I guess you’re pretty sure.”

His brow furrows and I don’t think he can hold the tears in much longer. “I promise I’ll work on the rest of the songs as much I can while I’m getting fondled by my physical therapist.”

I grab the crutches and chuckle as I leave Xander’s office, the sound of his sobs growing softer with each hop of my crutches. Cheryl scrambles to open both exit doors for me and I soon find myself back at the elevator, waiting. On the way down, I try to think of how I’m going to break the news to Claire. I can call her, but I’ll probably have to leave it as a voicemail message. I can text her, but that’s too impersonal. I have to see her, but that means asking someone to drive me to her dorm.

Why couldn’t I have broken my fucking left leg? I could drive with a broken left leg.

The elevator doors open onto the first floor lobby and I immediately spot my mom sitting on a cushy chair, her fingers moving furiously while her eyes are glued to her phone. I make my way to her and she looks up.

“Did Xander have a heart attack?” she asks.

“No, but he may need some extra happy pills or some chocolate cake tonight.”

She stands and I’m struck by how much I admire my mom for taking everything that’s happened with Claire and me in stride these past two months. It’s time to tell her everything.

As soon as I get myself settled into the passenger seat, I reach out to stop her from turning the key in the ignition. “Mom, I have something to tell you; something you may not like to hear, but I want you to keep in mind how much I love Claire—how much
we
love Claire. Okay?”

She looks at the dashboard in front of me instead of straight at me because she can sense I’m about to tell her something really bad.

“Christopher, if you tell me something that makes me upset with Claire, I’m going to take it out on you. I just got her back. Please don’t do this to me.”

I draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly as I contemplate this, but she needs to know. “Mom, Claire had a baby in April. She gave her up for adoption and Claire has been suffering with this secret for over a year.”

“
A
baby or
your
baby?”

“
My
baby. Her name is Abigail. I saw her for the first time three weeks ago and she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I got to hold her hand and I think… I don’t think I’ve ever loved anything more than I love this little girl who I don’t even know. Not even Claire or music.”

Both her hands fly up to cover her face as she begins to cry. I reach over and squeeze her knee and she shakes her head.
Fuck
. I hate seeing my mom cry.

“Mom, please don’t cry. We’re working it out. I just wanted to tell you because I can’t keep it inside any longer.”

She curls her fingers a little so they’re not covering her eyes, then she looks at me. “I have a granddaughter? And you’re just telling me this now?” She pushes my hand off her knee and scowls at me. “I am so disappointed in you right now. I never thought you would keep something like this from me.”

“I wanted to tell you, but I wanted to wait until I knew what was going to happen with the open adoption. But I see now that we’re no closer to knowing what’s going to happen than we were two months ago.”

“Two
months
you’ve kept this from me! I knew something was going on when Rachel told me that Claire has a new boyfriend.”

“Rachel told you that?”

“I weaseled it out of her. Is that why this open adoption thing isn’t settled yet, because she has a new boyfriend?”

“No, it’s nothing like that.”

“Don’t you lie to me to protect her. I can’t believe she would keep this from me.”

“Don’t you dare get mad at Claire. She only did what was best for Abigail
and
me. I wouldn’t be where I am if she hadn’t made the difficult choice she made.”

She grunts with frustration. “I want to call her.”

“No, you’re upset right now. Call her tomorrow or whenever you’ve cooled off.”

“You’re right. I don’t want to call her. I want to hug her. My God, Chris. Why didn’t she tell me? I would have been there for her.”

“Come on, Mom. She obviously didn’t tell you because you would have told me.”

She wipes the tears from her face and shakes her head as she attempts to collect herself. “I need to see her.”

This is exactly what I was hoping for. Claire needs to know that her secret is not a death sentence marking the demise of all her previous relationships. We will always love her because even if Claire and I never get back together, we will always be family.

“I’m going to ask Farrah to take me to go see Claire tonight. I’ll tell her that I confessed to you then I’ll ask her to come visit us at the house this weekend. I need to tell her in person.”

Farrah, my personal assistant, has been sitting on her heels without much work to do since I broke my leg. She was all set to go to L.A. with me next week, but that’s not going to happen anymore. She may as well get used to being my new chauffeur because I’m not giving up on Claire and I still have three weeks in this fucking cast.

“Give her a big hug from me,” my mom says as she turns the key in the ignition. “And if you ever keep something like that from me again, I will skin you.”

“If you skin me, who’s going to pay for your gaming addiction?”

She shakes her head, but I see a reluctant smile barely tugging at the corners of her lips. It’s hard keeping the women in my life happy. They’re high-maintenance. But I don’t think I would want it any other way.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Adam

I
SIT IN THE
H
URLEY
sponsor tent as I mentally prepare myself to go out and compete. This morning was a mess. I woke with a start at three a.m. from a nightmare where Claire and I ran into each other years from now and she didn’t recognize me. For the past three weeks, I’ve been living in the worst kind of hell. I can’t talk to anyone about what happened with Claire, except Yuri, but I don’t want to burden him with this crap before the competition. I’ve been totally and utterly alone. At least when I moved to Wrightsville, I ran into Claire on my first day there. This is a kind of loneliness I’ve never had to deal with.

Remmy walks into the tent, laughing as he glances over his shoulder at someone. Remmy was my trainer three years ago. After I quit competing, he moved to Florida to work at a surfing academy near his ex-wife’s house to try to work things out with her. I didn’t understand this since they didn’t have any kids together, but I guess love makes us do crazy things. When I called him two months ago to see if we could start training again, he moved to Wilmington the following week. I get the feeling he was looking for a way out of whatever situation he was in with his ex in Florida. It seems that being near the one you love doesn’t solve everything.

Remmy is half-French and half-Brazilian, born in Brazil and raised in North Carolina. He’s entirely mixed up, but he’s also the best of the four trainers I’ve had in my lifetime.

“Hank is sitting at the judge’s table,” he mutters to me so the group of people handing out Hurley T-shirts on my right can’t hear.

Hank Langley loves me. When you’re in a business where you have to do a lot of traveling, you find yourself latching onto people you feel drawn to. It helps make the constant change, the long plane flights, and the loneliness bearable. Hank is one of those who I was naturally drawn to when I was competing. He used to tell me about all his problems with his daughters and their boyfriends. The guy is hilarious. He once told me that I should never tell a girl that she’s beautiful unless I’m willing to commit to her because girls don’t know how to take a compliment from a handsome guy without falling in love. With Hank sitting at the judge’s table, my chances at placing just increased significantly.

Somehow, this makes me more nervous and more determined to prove myself.

I haven’t bumped into Lindsay or Nathan yet, but the prospect of seeing them is still weighing heavily on my mind. I just keep telling myself that they’re nothing to me. I’ve moved on. Claire is all I care about and getting back to her is my number one priority.

By the time the heat begins and my group comes up, I’m ready to kill it. I jog across the sand toward the water and close my eyes for a moment to drink in the moment. If I place here, I can enter the ASP World Tour. Of course, that means more time away from Claire.

The sand has a slightly pink tinge due to the runoff from the red rocks that surround this small stretch of sand at Koki Beach. I block out the cheering as I trot across the sand, my eyes completely focused on the waves ahead. I make it past the bleachers, just a few dozen yards to the water, when I see her.

Lindsay is standing at the edge of the water further down the beach, her blonde hair flowing out behind her as the ocean breeze washes over her. She’s wearing a one-piece bathing suit, probably because she’s pregnant as fuck.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Claire

P
ROFESSOR
L
INDA
C
OLDWATER INSISTS WE
call her Linda because Professor Coldwater makes her question her decision to quit the theater. When the class lets out, I approach her to ask something I’ve never asked a teacher in my life.

“Um, Linda?”

She looks up from the small table next to the podium where she’s putting away her notes and laptop. Her blue eyes fix me with a puzzled look. I’ve never really participated in this class in the eight weeks since classes began, but something—
someone
changed me and I finally understand that I don’t just want to make it through this semester. I want to make this semester count.

“Yes?” she asks, her light-brown hair bouncing around her face as she continues to slide stuff into her laptop bag.

I swallow the knot in my throat and take a deep breath. “I was wondering if you’d be willing to meet with me sometime this week? This is a required course for my major, so I was hoping I could pick your brain about your days as a caseworker.”

She immediately stops what she’s doing and stands up straight so she doesn’t have to look at me through a curtain of hair. “Claire Nixon.”

“Yes.”

“Is this for the final?”

I know if I tell her it’s for the final that she will probably reject me, but the truth is that the final is only a tiny factor in this request.

“No, I just have some questions about what path you took and how you liked it. I’d love to get some insight from someone who lived it and walked away.”

The truth is that I’ve been having doubts about whether I’ll make a good caseworker. I’m so screwed up and I cry at the drop of a hat these days. I know this is partially due to the botched adoption agreement and the breakup, but I sincerely doubt whether I will ever have the strength to tell a child that they’re going to live with strangers because their mother died of a drug overdose. I need some reassurance that I haven’t picked the absolute wrong field.

She looks at me as if she’s seeing me for the first time yet she obviously knows my name. “Come to my office on Friday at 2:30. Does that work for you?”

“That’s perfect. My last class lets out at one on Friday. Thank you so much.”

I set off toward the door when she clears her throat behind me. I’m not sure if this is meant for me so I wait until I reach the door before I turn around.

Her expression has softened. “I just wanted to tell you that the paper you turned in last week on parent-child relationships was the best paper I’ve ever received for this unit.”

I don’t know if she knows how little I actually know about parent-child relationships. She certainly doesn’t know how I assumed my paper would come across as the biggest load of crap she’d ever read.

“Thanks,” I whisper, then quickly push through the door and into the corridor.

I make it halfway across the yard in a daze before my phone vibrates in my pocket. I slip it out and glance at the screen.

Chris:
What time are you going to be in the dorm tonight?