I’m still staring at her when my body finally decides to move. Rhe chair legs scrape loudly against the floor as I push back from the table and stand. Seein that I recognize her maybe? Margaret leaves her there and heads back to the kitchen.
My heart is beating faster now for so reason, not like I’m scared though jusy.... confused kind. The kind where sothing doesn’t add up and your brain keeps trying to piece together a puzzle tat doesn’t even mak sense.
"Claire...?"
She doesn’t answer, she just..... just stands there watcheing , still standing near the doorway where Margaret left her with that sa small smile on her lips.
I walk toward her slowly trying to read her face.
"What’s going on?" I ask.
My arms cross over my chest without even realizing it.
"Why are you at my house so early in the morning?. Did sothing happen?"
Still nothing.
Claire tilts her head slightly like she’s studying , like she’s trying to figure sothing out about that she didn’t know before.
Behind her, I hear Margaret moving around in the kitchen.
Margaret steps halfway out of the kitchen doorway and looks at Claire.
"Sit, I’ll bring you sothing to eat," she says casually... so casually, like Claire has been here before and like this is normal.
My head snaps toward Margaret.
"You know her?"
Margaret doesn’t even look surprised by the question.
She gives Claire a small nod instead.
"I’ll bring it," she repeats.
Then she disappears back into the kitchen before I can ask anything else.
I just stand there for a secon, looking from the kitchen doorway... and back to Claire.
"What the hell is going on?" I mutter under my breath.
Claire finally moves, not toward the door or towards toward . She walks deeper into the dining room like she belongs here.
My house suddenly feels unfamiliar.... Lkke I’m the visitor.
She reaches the dining table, then pulls out a chair and not just any chair.
Zane’s chair.
The one directly across from where I had been sitting..... and the one he always takes every al... breakfast and dinner that he’s here.
Without thinking, the words are already coming out of my mouth .
"Claire..."
She sits comfortably into the chair leanin back slightly. Her fingers rest loosely on the table like she’s sat there a hundred tis before.
And sothing about that makes heat rush up my neck.
I take a step forward.
"Get up."
She doesn’t move which makes My jaw tightens
"That’s..."
"Zane’s chair?." Claire finishes calmly for .
My mouth opens and closes.....
She lifts one eyebrow slightly.
"Yeah," she says.
"I know."
The room goes completely still, for a mont I honestly think I misheard her.
"You... what?"
Claire taps one finger lightly on the table surface likw she has all the ti in the world.
"I know that’s where he sits," she says.
My stomach twists.
"How do you know that?"
The question cos out faster than I an it to.
My eyes narrow at her... Claire doesn’t look uncomfortable, she doesn’t look nervous.
If anything...She looks amused.
Margaret walks back in at that mont carrying another plate.
The sll of food fills the air again.
Warm bread and eggs and Sothing with herbs.
She sets the plate down in front of Claire.....Right in Zane’s spot while Claire smiles politely at her.
"Thank you."
Margaret nods once.
"You’re welco."
Then she turns and heads back toward the kitchen again, like nothing about this situation is strange, lyk nothing about this mont needs explanation.
My head slowly turns back to Claire.
"You still haven’t answered ."
She picks up the fork Margaret brought, examining it briefly.
Then finally looks up at again directly and sothing in her expression makes my chest tighten. Because Claire doesn’t look like a guest here, she doesn’t look like soone who accidentally showed up.
She looks comfortable wayyyyyyy too comfortable.
Like she already knew exactly where she was comin and that thought sends a slow, uneasy feeling crawling up my spine.
"How," I say again, slower this ti, "do you know that’s Zane’s seat?"
Claire’s smile grows just a little.
And suddenly I’m not sure I like the answer that might be coming.
For a mont neither of us says anything az Claire takes a small bite of the food Margaret placed in front of her, like this is just another casual morning.
Like she didn’t just walk into my house unannounced, like she didn’t sit in my fucking husband’s chair.
My fingers curl slowly against the back of the chair beside .
I don’t sit, I just stand there staring at her and waiting.
Claire chews, swallows, then reaches for the glass of water Margaret left beside the plate.
She takes her sweet little ti drinking it and My patience snaps.
"Claire."
My voice cos out tighter this ti, she looks up at again, calm as ever.
"Ask your husband."
I blink.
"What?"
She shrugs slightly and pushes a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Ask Zane."
For a second my brain refuses to process what she just said. Mt hands fall to my sides.
"Ask... my husband?" I repeat slowly.
Claire nods once and picks up her fork again like the conversation is already over.
Sothing hot rises in my chest, confusion, frustration and a huge chunk of anger.
"No," I say, shaking my head.
"No, you don’t get to just say sothing like that and then act like nothing happened."
Claire pauses mid-bite but doesn’t look surprised.
I step closer to her now.
"What hell is going on?"
She watches quietly, her eyes moving across my face like she’s reading sothing there....Studying my reactions.
My voice gets a little louder without aning it to.
"Four the thousandth ti why are you here?."
Claire sighs softly and leans back slightly in the chair.
Zane’s chair.
That thought irritates all over again.
"You really don’t know?" she asks.
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