Page 70 of Love Again

We’ve all ended up sitting down. Me, on an overstuffed chair, and the three of them on the white sofa Every time one of the guys tries to come into the parlor to see what we’re doing, one of them stares him down and he leaves.

Usually, it’s Claire.

“Yes, we got married really fast. After a month. There was a guy named Max who we both cared a lot about. It’s complicated.”

“I think we deserve the story.” Claire’s town is clipped, and I can tell she’s pissed.

I tell them everything . . . everything except about the divorce papers and the fact that we’ve slept together while he’s been in town. But everything else, ending with Max’s death.

“And he blames you?” asks Chloe. She’s sipping water now.

“No, no, not at all. I told you, I left him. I felt we were jeopardizing the crew or ourselves, and I never want to go through that again.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell us you were married.” Claire’s words are so clipped and so tight. “I’ve only had one beer, so this isn’t the alcohol talking,” she makes clear.

“I didn’t tell you guys because I felt stupid for doing it. We fell in love really, really fast. When I woke up in the hospital, he was there. We were always together after that, and then we got married a month later. I had this feeling like I had rushed into something. That I had done something as silly as bungee jumping off a bridge.”

I hope that self-referentially dinging of myself helps.

It doesn’t. Claire still won’t look at me.

“Listen, I felt stupid calling you guys up and telling you I got married. I didn’t want you all to tell me I was reckless and that it was a bad idea, so I didn’t say anything. Then Max was killed six months later, and I left. I came here.”

Claire rises, walks by me, and puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes it. She leaves the room, and I know she’s hurt. She’s our proxy mother, the one for whom information is critical, the one who feels responsible when things go wrong, and she’s pissed I didn’t tell her.

Laurel looks at Chloe, trying to reassure Chloe as much as me. Chloe has recently reentered the Russo fold, and it’s tough for her sometimes.

I stand.

“I need to go tell Luke that I’ve told you guys. I talked to Travis and Geo about this earlier, so they know. Geo suggested I tell you sooner rather than later, and now it’s all done.” I wish I felt as confident as I sounded.

With the inexhaustible optimism of youth, Laurel asks, “What’s your next step? What are you guys doing? I mean, are you back together?” Her eyes are bright, as if she might start crying. God, I hate this emotional stuff.

“I don’t know. I served him divorce papers yesterday.”

“Why?”

“I explained all this before,” I say, and I’m suddenly exhausted by this conversation. “I can’t be responsible for someone else like that. I know you are, Laurel. You would put Cory’s life above yours, and I see that and it’s amazing. But I can’t do that and function as a firefighter. I can’t. It’s all mixed up with my heart.” I shake my head slowly from side to side. “I don’t know what to do.”

The kitchen door opens and slams again, and then Claire is standing there with Luke, holding his hand. What he says next makes me catch my breath, waiting for some shoe to fall, but there is none.

“I keep telling her, love isn’t that complicated.”

Chapter Eighteen

Luke

When Claire found me out chatting with Bryce and Jackson, I could tell something was up.

Finn saw immediately, and he was by her side in two seconds, leaving Nic by the dessert table with a piece of pie in his mouth.

She said something quickly to him, gesturing for me to come with them, and when I caught a direct look, I knew exactly what had happened.

I started to say something, but she speaks first. “It’s fine, it’s fine. This is Devon’s thing, and I’m sure she told you to be quiet. So, don’t worry, you’re fine.”

And then she took my hand.

Now, I’m standing in front of the other two sisters and Devon, and I don’t know what else to say except what I’ve been telling her: “Love isn’t that complicated.”