Chapter Twenty-two
It was just past 5:00 p.m. when I rang Scott’s doorbell. Butterflies invaded my belly, mostly because I wasn’t sure what to expect. The last time we had seen each other in person, we were both in shock over our spouses’ affair, and since then, our only communication had been through email. But now he was back, and he was my neighbor again.
The door opened and he smiled warmly at me, in a way he’d never smiled at me before, not when he was with Angie and I was with Wes.
“Hi,” he said. “Come in.”
I stepped through the open door, and he closed it behind me. Then he looked at me expectantly.
“Welcome back!” I said, giving him a friendly hug.
I felt myself blush as I backed away.
“How’s the house?” I asked. “Everything still in the right place? It must seem weird, after being away for so long. I wish I had thought to put some food in your fridge.”
I glanced toward the kitchen but remained in the foyer with my coat on.
Scott waved a hand casually. “Don’t be silly. You’ve already gone above and beyond, changing lightbulbs and whatnot.”
We nodded our heads and I smiled clumsily.
Oh, God. This was painful.
“Thanks for all that,” he said, referring to my weekly walk-through.
“It wasn’t a problem at all. I was happy to do it.”
There was a long pause, and I didn’t know what to say. I shrugged a shoulder.
“Any more overseas trips planned?” I asked.
What in the world was I saying? He had told me in his last email that he wasn’t going anywhere for a while. Probably not even until next year. What a ninny I was.
“Nah, I’ll be sticking around,” he replied. Then he turned and picked up a gift bag that was sitting on the black leather bench by the door. “These are for you. Bavarian chocolates. I got them in Berchtesgaden.”
I reached out to take the bag. “My gosh. Thank you so much.” I dug through the tissue paper and withdrew the slender box. “These look amazing. I can’t wait to try them.”
I slid the box of chocolates back into the gift bag and met Scott’s gaze.
Another awkward silence ensued.
“Well, I should get going,” I said, gesturing toward my house. “I haven’t even been home yet. I came straight here from work.”
He watched me with what I could only describe as disappointment, and I wanted to sink through the floor.
What was wrong with me? Had Wes’s betrayal stolen all my social skills? My ability to relate to people? I’d never felt so awkward in all my life.
I started backing out the door and Scott said, “Okay, I’ll see you later.”
He seemed genuinely baffled.
“Bye,” I replied as I walked out and descended the stairs.
He shut the door behind me and I crossed the street, shaking my head at myself. “Claire, you are an idiot.”
When I entered my house, Bev was just pulling on her coat to go to work for the night shift. “Did you see him?” she asked.
“Yes,” I replied, “and it was worse than junior high. I acted like a total nerd. I had no idea what to say.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Oh no! I thought he might pull you into his arms and you guys would end up making out on his sofa.”
“Hah!” I began to remove my coat. “Far from it. Not that I would want that to happen, but it’s so completely opposite from what did happen.” I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed the heel of my hand to my forehead. “Now it’s just going to be so awkward between us!”
Just then, the phone rang and I moved to answer it. When I checked the call display, I recognized the number. “Oh, God, it’s him.”
Bev stared at me while the phone continued to ring. “Well, don’t just stand there. Answer it.”
I picked it up. “Hi.”
This time, there was an intimacy in my tone, as if we both knew why he was calling.
I heard Scott chuckle through the phone. “That was awkward,” he said.
I began to laugh—a nervous reaction. “Yes, it was. I’m sorry. I just…I didn’t know what to say. This is so weird.”
“It is weird,” he replied. “And I didn’t know what to say either. I’ve never been in a situation like this before. I’m not sure how we’re supposed to act with each other, but I want to be friends, Claire. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”
“I won’t,” I said, “now that you’ve called. I’m glad you did.”
“Good.”
I felt Bev’s eyes on me. She was standing in the kitchen doorway, watching with curiosity, so I turned away and moved toward the back door so I wouldn’t feel her presence.
“So listen,” Scott said, “why don’t we just continue to be neighbors and friends, but I wouldn’t say no if you wanted to go to the movies or just play cards or something. I might call and ask one of these days, because it’s feeling pretty lonely over here. I could use a friend.”
“Okay. Me, too.”
“And I couldn’t help noticing that the trim around your front window is peeling a bit. I’d be happy to take care of that for you, anytime.”
I chuckled again. “You’re offering to do yardwork for me?”
“It’s not yardwork, it’s painting,” he replied, good-naturedly. “And I owe you, for looking after my house over the past few months.”
I smiled. “Okay, that would be very nice of you. I think we have some of that paint in the basement. I’ll have to check.”
“If not, I have plenty here,” he replied. “It’s just standard white exterior.”
Neither of us said anything for a few seconds, and I turned around to check if Bev was still watching me. She wasn’t in the kitchen, but I knew she hadn’t left for work yet.
“I should let you go,” Scott said. “It was nice to see you today, Claire. I mean that.”
“It was nice to see you, too. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Okay, bye.”
We hung up and I moved to the living room where Bev was sitting on the sofa with her coat on, her purse on her lap. “So? What did he say?”
I let out a breath and flopped onto the chair. “Well…I don’t think it’s going to be awkward anymore. He was totally cool about it, actually. He made me feel less like an idiot.”
Bev smiled and rose from the sofa. “What did I tell you? Nice guy. Don’t screw it up.”
I wagged a finger at her. “And don’t put pressure on me.” I took note of the fact that she hadn’t zipped up her coat because she couldn’t close it around her belly.
“You need to buy a parka you can zip up,” I said. “Have you checked the maternity stores? Stuff is probably on sale now.”
She shook her head. “No, it’s almost spring. I don’t want to spend money on a new winter coat that I’ll only use for a month.”
“Always so practical,” I replied, walking her to the door.
“You should call Scott tonight and invite him over while I’m gone,” Bev suggested as she slung her purse strap over her shoulder.
I shook my head. “No, I don’t want to set up those kinds of expectations—that we’re becoming involved, because I’m not ready for anything like that. I don’t know when I will be. I’m still traumatized.”
She inclined her head. “You’ve been traumatized all your life. But as long as you’re not still waiting for Wes to realize his mistake and come back to you.”
I looked down at the floor. “Of course I’m not. And even if he crawled back on his hands and knees and begged for my forgiveness, I wouldn’t take him back. There’s too much water under the bridge now.”
“Good,” Bev said. “Now I have to go. See you later.”
I remained in the doorway as she walked out, got into her car and drove off. Then I found myself looking across the street at Scott’s house, where it was nice to see lights on in the kitchen, and not just the one lamp in the living room window that was operated by a timer. I was glad he was home.
I stayed up late that night reading the rest of the novel, and it felt odd that Scott and I didn’t exchange emails.
More than once, I considered getting up and sending him a message, but I resisted the urge.
He was probably doing the same.
The following day I went to work, and came home to discover a fresh coat of paint on the trim around my front window.
“He doesn’t waste time,” I said to myself.
I walked in the front door to find Bev cooking spaghetti at the stove. “Hi,” she said.
I removed my coat, hung it up in the closet and entered the kitchen. “Were you here when he did that?” I pointed toward the living room window.
She stirred the pasta in the pot. “Yes, but I was sound asleep in my room. Leo didn’t even bark. You should call him and say thank you, and invite him over to have dinner with us, because I’m making this huge pot of spaghetti. There’s plenty to go around.”
I grinned at her as I moved to pick up the phone. “You don’t give up, do you?”
“Never.”
I dialed Scott’s number, and he picked up right away.
* * *
“So let me get this straight,” Scott said, leaning back in his chair at the kitchen table and sipping his wine while he scratched behind Leo’s ears. “The guy doesn’t even know he’s going to be a dad?”
Bev shook her head. “No. I want to do this on my own.”
“But surely he has a right to know,” Scott said. “And you need to think long term. What happens when your child grows up and wants to know who his or her father is, and might want to meet him? You can’t put all that on the child, to be the one who shows up at this guy’s door and breaks the news to him. No kid should have to shoulder that.”
Bev rested her elbow on the table and cupped her forehead in her hand. “I honestly didn’t think about that, but you’re right. I wouldn’t want to do that to my child.”
Scott shared a glance with me from across the table, and I gave him a look of gratitude. He knew how I felt about the issue—that Bev should tell the guy. I’d been trying to convince her of that for months.
“You’re both right,” she said. “I know it in my head, but my emotions say otherwise. I just don’t want to see him again. I don’t want to invite him into the rest of my life—for custody battles over parental rights, and chasing down child support payments. I don’t want any of that. And what if he’s a total jerk? I just want to do this on my own.”
“What if he’s not a jerk?” I asked. “What if he’s the great love of your life and you’re not giving him a chance?”
Bev let out a breath, picked up her plate and carried it to the counter. “I don’t need a husband to have a baby, Claire, and neither do you.”
My head drew back in surprise, because she’d never said anything like that to me before, and here she was, saying it in front of Scott.
She immediately turned to face me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that…this is the twenty-first century and we are strong, independent women. Both of us. We have each other and I believe we can do this. I just want us both to feel empowered and not at the mercy of having to wait for the right man to come along.”
Despite how awkward it had been with Scott the day before, I felt surprisingly comfortable with this whole conversation, because he already knew about all my setbacks and insecurities. I had held nothing back from him during our email correspondence, where it was so much easier to be revealing.
“She has a point,” Scott said. “You can do whatever you want, Claire. There’s nothing holding you back from having a child if you want one. The doctor said you were a good candidate for IVF. Wes isn’t here to discourage you or say no to spending the money. Whatever you choose to do is none of his business anymore. You should think about it.”
I looked up at Bev, who smiled at me. “There you go,” she said. “You have something to think about.”
I decided in that moment that I would indeed give it serious consideration. Though it wasn’t exactly the traditional dream I’d always had of a house with a white picket fence, a husband, and four or five children, it could be the makings of a new kind of dream with a different sort of family altogether.
Bev was right. This was the twenty-first century. and I was no longer the twelve-year-old girl who had just lost her father. Maybe I needed to let go of my old ideals and be more independent as a woman—because what if I never married again? I had no control over whether or not the perfect man might come along in the future, or any man for that matter, and I was about to enter into a divorce that might take years to finalize. Maybe I had to consider the possibility that if I wanted a child, I couldn’t afford to wait around for everything to be perfect.