You really don’t know?" she asks.
My eyebrows pull together.
"Know what?"
For a mont she just stares at , then sothing in her expression shifts.
Not pity... but sothing close, that only makes my stomach twist harder.
"Claire," I say again, slower this ti, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Stop being cryptic and just tell what’s going on."
Silence stretches between us, Margaret moves around quietly in the kitchen behind us, pretending she’s busy but clearly listening.
Claire taps the fork lightly against the plate, then she sets it down.
Her eyes et mine again directly.
"Is this about the club?" I ask quickly.
The words rush out before I can stop them.
Claire tilts her head slightly.
"That night," I continue.
"Did you co here because of that?"
My voice softens slightly.
"Are you... checking on or sothing?"
Claire’s expression doesn’t change but she doesn’t interrupt either.
"That’s the only explanation that makes sense," I go on.
My mind clings to that idea because the alternative feels too strange.
"You ditched at the club," I say.
Then shrug slightly.
"So maybe you felt bad about it."
Claire lets out a quiet breath through her nose. Almost like a soft laugh but not quite it.
I frown.
"What?"
She studies again for a long mont.
Then she says quietly,
"You think that’s why I’m here?"
My confusion grows deeper.
"Well... yeah?"
I gesture vaguely toward the door she walked through earlier.
"You showed up at my house out of nowhere."
My eyes flick briefly toward the chair she’s sitting in.
"And you clearly know things about this place."
I look back at her.
"So yeah," I say.
"That’s the only logical explanation."
Claire leans back a little further in the chair, her fingers resting lightly against the edge of the table as that sa small smile slowly creeps back onto her face, but this ti it doesn’t feel friendly.
It feels like she knows sothing I don’t, sothing importan and big.
And the way she’s looking at suddenly makes a cold feeling settle in the pit of my stomach. Because Claire doesn’t look like soone who ca here to apologize.
And that thought makes my heart start beating a little faster.
Claire doesn’t answer imdiately.
She just keeps looking at .
I shift my weight slightly, my fingers tightening around the back of the chair beside .
"You’re being weird," I tell her.
My voice cos out more irritated than I intended, but at this point I don’t care.
"You walk into my house like you belong here, you sit in my husband’s chair like it’s normal, you tell to ask him instead of answering yourself... and now you’re just staring at ."
Claire exhales softly.../ not really annoyed, it’s more like soone who expected this mont.
"You’re right," she says quietly.
My eyebrows pull together
"About what?"
"That you should ask your husband."
My patience snaps.
"Oh my God, Claire....."
She lifts a hand slightly, to stop from finishing the sentence.
"I’m serious, Elaine."
My jaw tightens.
"And I’m serious too," I shoot back.
"You don’t get to walk into my house and start talking in riddles."
Claire studies for a long mont
"You trust him a lot, don’t you?"
The question catches off guard.
"What?"
"Zane," she clarifies.
Sothing about the way she says his na makes my chest tighten.
"Yes," I say slowly. Because r fr so reason I kinda do trust him.
"Why wouldn’t I?"
Claire doesn’t answer that right away, instead she tilts her head slightly. That little act she’s doing and delaying my answers is starting to genuinely pisse off
"You know... most people who know him wouldn’t say that."
A small laugh leaves before I can stop it.
"Well lucky for him I’m not most people."
She watches for another quiet mont.
"Do you actually know him though?"
I blink.
"What kind of question is that?"
Claire shrugs lightly.
"It’s a simple one."
My arms cross over my chest agai
"Yes," I answer.
"Of course I know him."
She doesn’t look convinced nd that irritates more than I want to admit.
"You’re acting like I married a stranger." Technically I did marry a stranger but that’s not for her to know. To the rest of the world we fell in love and got married and even though she’s my friend....i can’t tell her the details of my marriage with Zane.
Her lips twitch slightly.
"Didn’t you?"
My stomach flips.
"What’s that supposed to an?"
Claire taps her finger lightly against the table surface.
"I an... how long did you really know him before you got married?"
I hesitate for a second.....but it’s enough as her eyes catch it imdiately
"Right," she murmurs.
"That’s exactly what I thought."
I shake my head, fucking annoyed now.
"This whole conversation is ridiculous."
Claire leans back in the chair again.
Still very muh Zane’s chair.
"You think so?" she asks.
"Yes," I reply imdiately.
"Because you’re clearly implying sothing but refusing to actually say it."
Silence settles between us again.
"You know he lies...... he lied to" She says after a bit
My chest tightens, wondering how the fuck Zane knows Claire enough to lie to her.
"Everyone lies," I say.
"That’s not exactly groundbreaking."
Claire nods slowly.
"True."
Another pause.
"But Zane lies..... differently, he gives you false hope."
I frown.
"What does that even an?"
She looks toward the hallway for a mont.
Like she’s thinking, then her gaze returns to .
"Have you asked yourself why Margaret didn’t question when I walked in?"
My eyes flick toward the kitchen watching to see that Margaret is still moving around in there, cleaning sothing.
My stomach tightens slightly.
"She’s just being polite," I say.
Claire raises an eyebrow.
"Is that what you think? My naive naive child"
"Yes."
Her lips curve slightly again.
"You’re very trusting g."
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