Page 49 of I Choose You (Wilder #2)

Claire

I had frantically tried to get through the airport to make it to my meeting on time.

I didn’t. I was ten minutes late, but my profuse apologies were met with understanding smiles and pleasant greetings.

The owner of the inn and the contractor caught me up to speed, and we were able to have a productive pre-construction meeting and firm up the timeline and deadline.

The budget-friendly motel was actually pretty decent. The room didn’t smell weird, and the bedding was clean, if a little worn. It certainly wasn’t anything fancy—and it wasn’t nearly as comfortable as staying at Wyatt’s house or, even better, at Reid’s house—but it was clean and seemed safe.

That didn’t make it any easier to sit in my room, alone, on Saturday.

I wanted to text Maeve, tell her happy birthday to Jane for me.

But I hadn’t talked to Reid since I left, and I couldn’t bring myself to text Maeve either.

I hoped Jane had a great birthday party though.

Maeve had put so much thought and planning into it to make it a special day for her.

My heart broke a little more. I wanted to be there to celebrate with them.

Sing Happy Birthday with Reid’s arm hugging me from behind.

I splashed water on my face from the small bathroom sink and sank under the covers. It was 1:00 p.m. in a new town that I could be exploring, but all I wanted to do was curl up in bed.

* * *

The historic house-turned-inn was set on the corner of a busy main road.

The lawn was a lush green and clearly well maintained, in sharp contrast to the building’s exterior.

New windows, siding, and roof were a given, along with the small lot for the guests’ cars.

From what I gathered at last Friday’s pre-construction meeting, most of the money would be spent on the exterior, which, from where I was standing, made perfect sense.

I made my way inside, saying good morning to the few workers who were already there. The owners, Dave and Samantha Grady, were chatting with another man who’d been at the meeting on Friday, the president of the Historical Society, Terry Platt.

“Good morning,” I said as I approached the small group.

“Claire, good morning. How was your weekend? Did you get a chance to see any sights?” Samantha asked.

“There’s a great market, Eastern Market, that you should check out while you’re in town if you have a chance,” Dave said.

“Oh, thanks. I’ll definitely look it up,” I said with a smile.

The conversation moved on to the project schedule, and as much as I tried, I couldn’t focus on what anyone was saying.

I had loved working on the Delano Library, but it was diving into the history and culture that excited me.

This assignment didn’t have that same requirement.

Basic knowledge of the proper aesthetic and materials from a historical perspective was really all it required.

“Why don’t we take a tour? Claire hasn’t seen it yet,” Dave suggested. Turning to me, he added, “If you see something that you think we should add to the renovation, let us know. I can’t guarantee it will make it into the budget, but I would love your insights for any future enhancements.”

My phone rang, and I pulled it from my pocket to see Andrew’s name across the screen. “Excuse me, I have to take this.”

I had barely got his name out in greeting when his condescending voice screeched at me. “Where is your report, Claire? I told you I need them every day, just like on the Delano Library. It shouldn’t be a difficult instruction to follow.”

“I sent the report late Friday,” I told him. My patience wasn’t what it once was, and my tone may have indicated that.

“Well, if you had, then I wouldn’t be calling you. Send it again.” The call disconnected.

This was such bullshit. Red tinged my vision. But as quickly as the anger came, it passed.

A sense of relief washed over me. I was done with this. I knew what I wanted and what I didn’t. I didn’t want to be in Detroit. I didn’t want to take on this project. I didn’t want to work for Andrew and listen to him berate me or call me a liar .

What I wanted was to go home. To Calla Bay. To the friends I had made in Maeve and Scarlett. And I desperately wanted to go home to Reid. I didn’t know what I would do for a living, how I would survive without a job, but I would figure that out. We would figure it out, together.

“I’m so sorry,” I said to Dave and Samantha. “I have to go. I’ll talk to my boss, get someone else assigned. But I’m not going to be able to manage this project. I’m so sorry.”

“Is everything okay?” Samantha asked.

“Yeah.” I nodded, a genuine smile stretching my face. “I’m just quitting my job, uprooting my life, and getting my man. All in a day’s work, right?” My laugh sounded manic, but I didn’t care.

I was going home.

I just had one stop to make first.

* * *

Andrew was in his office, Derrick sitting across from him with his ankle across his thigh. They were both laughing, as if either of them was funny.

Nia stood from her desk as soon as she caught sight of me.

“Claire!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in Michigan.” Her eyes bounced between me and Andrew’s office, her head swiveling quickly.

“Oops. Must have lost my way,” I told her, stalking past her to get to Andrew.

I didn’t bother knocking.

Confusion morphed into anger as Andrew processed my arrival.

“Why are you…” he started.

I didn’t bother letting him finish his thought before interrupting him. I didn’t have time to listen to him rant. Well, now that I was about to be unemployed, I suppose I did have the time. I just didn’t want to.

“I quit.” I dropped my bag with my computer at the door.

“You can’t quit.” Anger simmered in Andrew’s eyes, a look of disbelief on his face. “Get yourself back to Detroit, Claire—”

I cut him off, not interested in anything he had to say.

“Or what? You’ll fire me?” I said. I trailed my eyes over him, a curl pulling on my lips.

Andrew was a small man, inside and out. He used anger, threats, and condescension to force people into doing what he wanted.

I had put up with his scare tactics for too long already.

I was over it. “Sure, Andrew, if it makes you feel better, you can fire me. I don’t really care because one way or another, I’m not working here anymore.

I’m not doing the work of three people to get paid less than half of this man sitting comfortably in your office.

I’m not wasting my time being belittled or badgered by a boss who very clearly doesn’t respect me.

I have better things to do with my life than put up with the likes of you. ”

I turned and marched away from him.

“Get back here, Claire. We are not done with his conversation,” Andrew called from behind me.

“You may not be, but I am.”

That particular task done, I returned to my parents’ place to collect the rest of my things.

Leon didn’t open the door when I arrived, so I let myself in. My mother and Leon were walking down the stairs, discussing some function that she would be hosting when she saw me.

“Claire. What are you doing back?”

“Hi, Mom, Leon. I just need to pack my bag.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be in Detroit?”

“No,” I told her, watching her expression carefully. “I quit my job. I’m going back to Calla Bay.”

“You most certainly are not.” My father’s voice sounded behind me.

I turned to face him. Hard lines were etched across his brow, his nostrils flaring with contempt.

“You are not quitting that job. I have to make excuses for my pitiful example of a daughter every time someone asks. Do you think I can tell them that you’re living in our guest room, single and unmarried and unemployed?

You might as well be a damn teenager and not a thirty-two-year-old adult,” he shouted.

My heart stopped, and my throat went dry. Tears tried to well in my eyes, but I forced them back. I would not cry. I would not show him my weakness.

“She’s miserable, Thomas,” my mother interjected. “She needs to know that it is okay for her to change her course.”

“It is not okay. She has never once lived up to her potential. She should have finished law school, like she was supposed to. Instead, she chose to get a useless degree in history. And now she thinks she can throw that out of the window too? Absolutely not. If she wants to run away to some small town that no one has heard of, where there are no opportunities, no securities, no prospects, she’ll be doing it without my backing. ”

Without his backing? He hadn’t helped me financially with anything other than college. Fire flooded my veins, drying my eyes in the process. I pushed my shoulders back and stood tall and proud.

“I’m not sure where you got the idea that I would be looking for any ‘backing,’ but I can assure you I fully intend to take care of myself.

I don’t care if you’re disappointed in me.

I’m done seeking your approval. I am not living my life to appease someone else a moment longer.

” I looked my father in the eyes when I spoke.

So much of my life was spent in the shadows of this man, brought out to show to the media and put back into my little corner when it suited him. I was over it.

I turned my head to my mother. “Thank you for letting me stay here, but it is far past time I started living my own life.”

As I walked past my mother and up the stairs, the silence I left behind was deafening. I had no idea what the future held, but I would never forgive myself if I didn’t give this a real chance.

Behind me, the soft patter of footsteps followed me up the stairs. I whirled around to find my mother there.

“What are you doing?” I asked her.

“Helping you pack, dear.”

* * *

Less than an hour later, I was on the road again. Daylight crept into sunset as the miles passed by. The music was on blast, the lightness in my chest making me feel giddy. I couldn’t wait to see Reid again. To surprise him.

His house was dark and closed up when I pulled up to it. The door was locked, but I knocked anyway .

No answer.

I waited another thirty minutes, hoping he had just gone out to grab dinner.

Maybe I would just do a quick swing through town. See if he was at the Downtown Diner or Harpoon’s.

I didn’t see his truck at either place. As I left Harpoon’s, I decided to drop by Wyatt and Maeve’s house too.

Reid wasn’t there either, but they were both home, so I knocked on their door.

Maeve opened the door a second later.

“Agghhh!” she screamed directly in my face. Her arms wound around me, her belly pressing into mine as she pulled me in for a tight hug. “What are you doing here?”

“I was looking for Reid. I didn’t know if you guys knew where he was. He wasn’t home.”

Maeve stepped back and looked over her shoulder at Wyatt. He had come running from upstairs when Maeve yelled bloody murder.

“Claire’s here,” she exclaimed. Her eyes were as wide as her smile. “She’s looking for Reid.”

“Oh, fuck,” Wyatt said.