Page 68 of Leaning In

Sophia emerges beside me onto the dark street and autumn chill.

“That was gold.” She pulls me in for a hug. “I wish I was as brave as you, Claire.”

I let out a dark chuckle. I feel wrung out. Shaky, but still buzzing.

“Are you alright?” Sophia asks.

My mind feels calmer than it did a moment ago, and I realise with a start that the guilt isn’t growing, the pride is. And a strange sense of freedom.

“Yeah,” I tell her. “I’ve been telling myself that I need to think about myself as well as what she wants, and after the weekend it all felt a lot clearer. This needed to happen a long time ago.”

Saying it outloud makes me believe in myself even more.

“You should go back inside,” I tell my sister. “I don’t want you to face unnecessary maternal wrath. This one’s on me.”

“Promise to text me later?”

“Of course.”

“I’m really proud of you. I love you.”

She releases me from the hug, eyes glistening under the streetlamp.

“Love you too, Soph.”

As I walk back to mine I can’t help but think about all the other times I’ve let what Mum wanted get in the way of following my own dreams; my degree, my hobbies, or my relationships. I’ve spent so much time playing by her rules that I don’t even know how to go after what I want anymore.

The fresh evening air helps me continue to clear my head as I walk. The guilt is gone, the relief is still there. I’m not suddenly doubting myself.

Now that I’ve finally stood up to Mum… what should I do next?

Then it hits me, I know exactly what I need to do.

Chapter 28

Tom

I’ve unpacked from the trip, and just finished working on another round of edits for my presentation to the board when I find myself opening my messages for what’s probably the fifth time in twenty minutes. A drafted text to Claire sits at the top of the screen: “ Are you free this week? Tom”.

I backspace my name because yes, Sophia was right all those months ago, signing texts with your name is very strange. Looking back at the draft, I sigh. The problem is that the last time I thought Claire wanted me, she kissed me and then vanished into emotional witness protection for several weeks.

“What do you think I should write, mate?” I ask Croissant, who’s currently sitting in my sink staring at me like this is a perfectly reasonable place for a cat to be.

He blinks slowly.

Very helpful.

I’m looking after him for the next two weeks while Mrs Lewis is away, and apparently I’ve already reached the stage where I discuss my romantic problems with a cat.

This probably doesn’t bode well for my sanity.

The doorbell rings and I frown. I wasn’t expecting anyone tonight, except maybe someone to deliver the pizza I’ll inevitably end up ordering when I realise I have no food. Putting my phone down, I make my way to the door. But when I open it I do a double take.

Claire’s outside, clutching a supermarket bag in her hands.

“Buttercup,” I manage to say once I’ve stopped gaping at her. “To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure? Also how do you know where I live? Should I be worried?”

She smiles, blue eyes sparkling.