20. Claire

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Claire

I watch Drew and Becca walk away, then glance at our guests. As I'm trying to figure out what to say, Jared steps up to the front.

"All right, everyone," he announces, "we all know Drew's been bachelor of the year five years and counting. Seems like the crazies just can't let him go, huh?" He chuckles. "Please, get back to enjoying the music and food—they've already paid for it, so don't be shy. Get as much as you want."

The guests laugh, and the reception comes back to life. I mouth "thank you" to Jared, and he walks over, leaning in to whisper in my ear.

"He's an idiot, Claire. But don't bolt—I see it in your eyes. He's trying to put out fires left and right. Just give him a little more time. Please."

I pull back and give him a sad smile. "I think I've been patient long enough, Jared. Don't you?"

I stand and take a step, but pain shoots down my leg, and I stumble. Jared catches me.

"Claire? Are you okay?"

I look down, embarrassed. "Yeah, thank you for catching me. My nerves are still pretty shot in my legs."

I catch Joy's eye, and she rushes over, Aiden right behind her.

"You ready to go?" Aiden asks gently.

I meet his eyes, and they fill with tears. I remember what he said—when he chooses them. I nod.

Without a word, Aiden lifts me bridal-style, and we walk out. When we get to the house, I ask him to put me down. I limp to the closet, grab a suitcase, and start packing. Joy and Aiden don't hesitate—they grab more suitcases and start helping. Thirty minutes later, we've packed most of my things. The rest, I don't care about.

Aiden had already brought the car around while taking bags out. Drew's not outside when we pull away. I rest my head against the window and close my eyes. I rub my belly and whisper to my baby, "We'll be okay. It's you and me, and we'll be okay."

From the rearview mirror, Aiden catches my eye.

"You're wrong, Claire. It's you, baby Claire, me, and Joy. We're here. We're your family—and we're not going anywhere."

We go to Aiden's house since it's closer than Joy's. All I want is a bath and a bed. Aiden carries in my suitcase, grabs my toiletries and pajamas, and runs me a bath.

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He pops his head back into the guest room. "Hey, the bath's ready whenever you are."

I sigh and stand. "I'm ready."

As I sink into the tub, the water laps against my skin like it's trying to hold me together. The pink polish on my toes is chipped, and for some reason, that small imperfection makes tears sting the backs of my eyes. I tip my head back and close my eyes. Just a minute. Just one minute where no one is walking away from me.

I'd left my phone in the room, needing a break from staring at it—wishing Drew would call and beg me to come home.

I hear a text. Then a call. Then another. It keeps happening for about 45 minutes. And then—banging.

I step out of the bath, moving slowly to avoid aggravating my already angry leg nerves. As I reach the guest bedroom, Joy walks toward me.

"Drew's at the door and won't go away. I don't think I've ever seen him this angry, Claire."

I glance down toward the front. "Good. Leave him there."

I hear him pounding on the door, yelling, "Aiden, open this fucking door or I'll break it down!"

Aiden responds through the intercom. "Andrew, you need to leave, man. She doesn't want to see you right now. She needs rest. I warned you, Drew. I warned you."

Drew yells back, "What did you want me to do, man? I needed to get rid of Becca. I needed this night to go smoothly for Claire!"

Aiden sighs. "No, Drew. Claire told you not to walk Becca to her car. And what did you do? You chose Becca. Again. You could've let the cops take her. God knows she needs a mental health check. But no—you chose wrong. Again. So get the fuck off my porch. She'll call when she's ready."

The whole house shakes as Drew slams into the door. I walk to the window in the guest room, open it, and look down just as he's about to hit the door again.

"Drew. You need to leave. Now."

He looks up, breath catching. "Oh God, baby, please. Please tell him to let me in. I need to talk to you. Claire, I need to see you. Baby, please let me in."

The tears come. I take a deep breath. As much as I want to let him in, I know I have to let him go.

"I'm sorry, Drew. I can't. You need to leave. We can talk tomorrow, but right now, I have nothing to say to you. I need to lie down and rest."

He's still in his tux, but his coat is gone. His bow tie hangs loose, the top buttons of his shirt undone. His hair is a sexy mess—dark strands falling in careless waves, the kind of mess that only comes from restless fingers and too much tension.

"I'm not leaving here without you, Claire. We don't have to talk tonight—just let me in, let me hold you. We shouldn't be apart on our wedding day."

A bitter laugh escapes me. "If only you had felt that way earlier tonight, Drew."

I take a breath. "I'm going to bed. And you better text that judge and tell him not to file that license."

I shut the window.

"CLAIRE! NO! CLAIRE, PLEASE DON'T DO THIS. FUCK!" he screams.

I peek through the curtain and see him drop to his knees, sobbing.

"God, Claire, please don't leave me. Please. I'll leave tonight if you promise we can talk tomorrow—and if you hold off on pulling the license. Fucking please, C."

He's collapsed, arms and head to the ground, breath heaving from the force of his grief.

I open the window again.

"Fine. You leave, and I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"And you promise to hold off on pulling the license?"

"I'll wait until the end of the day tomorrow. Goodnight, Drew."

I shut the window, turn off the light, and crawl into bed. Sleep doesn't come.

After tossing and turning for two hours, Joy and Aiden peek into the room.

"Can we join you?" Joy asks softly.

I nod—then remember they can't see me. "Yes."

They climb into bed, one on either side, each taking one of my hands.

And there, in the safety of my family, I fall apart.

I finally fall asleep thirty minutes later, already wishing tomorrow were over.