Love on Lexington Avenue(59)

“Right.” She put up her hands. “My life, my demons are an open book, but yours are off-limits, right?”

“I don’t have demons.”

“Sure you don’t.” Claire’s voice was tired as she dried her hands and headed in the direction of the guest room.

“Where are you going?”

His only answer was the door slam. He winced, even as he felt a little relief that she was pissed rather than wooden.

Scott snatched his beer off the counter, took two swallows as he tried to sort his thoughts, and tried to figure out how to fix this without having to lay himself bare. He didn’t even have anything to lay bare, for God’s sake. She was wrong. She thought he was some broken soul with mommy issues? That he was pining over a faithless woman from a decade ago.

Screw that. His life was exactly as he wanted. He didn’t have a whole room full of a dead person’s crap . . .

His thoughts scattered as Claire opened the guest room door again, his relief fleeing when he saw her wheeling her suitcase.

She marched to the front door, head held high, and he frowned. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t know. Audrey’s. Naomi’s. A hotel. Even bunking with the termite carcasses at my house would be better than staying here with you.”

His fingers clenched around the beer bottle, but he remained silent. What could he possibly say? Stay for another night, but please be gone by tomorrow? Sleep with me once more, but just the one time because more than that is a complication I don’t want?

“Not begging me to stay?” she said sweetly, her gaze derisive as her eyes flicked over him like he was pathetic. “Now, there’s a surprise.”

“Bob,” she called to the dog as she opened the door. “Enjoy your last few nights with Scott. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before he bails on you again.”

The door slammed shut behind her.





Chapter Twenty-Two


THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 5

Welp, this is a real mess,” Naomi said, kicking at an over-stuffed cardboard box just inside Claire’s guest room.

“I know,” she said a little dejectedly. “Somehow I walk by this room every single day, but in my head I didn’t think it was this bad.”

Naomi wrinkled her nose as she peered into the far corner of the room. “Are those skis? I didn’t know Brayden skied.”

“He loved it,” Audrey said, coming up between them with a tray of carefully balanced cocktails. She flinched and glanced at Claire. “Sorry. I guess she was talking to you.”

“No, by all means,” Claire murmured. “I think you two knew him as well as I did. Better, probably.”

“Not me,” Naomi said, lifting two glasses off the tray and handing one to Claire. “He and I mostly just boned.”

“Naomi!” Audrey sounded appalled.

“No, it’s all right,” Claire said. “Keep all this stuff coming. I think it’ll make the whole process easier. I can’t tell you how grateful I am not to have to go through this alone.”

“Anytime,” Naomi said. “Though can I ask what prompted it?”

Claire’s stomach dropped as she remembered yesterday’s epic showdown with Scott. She’d said plenty she regretted, suspected that he had, too, but he’d been right about one thing. It was long past time she got rid of Brayden’s stuff. The moral support from her girlfriends helped. As did the cocktail at . . . she checked her watch . . . 3:30 p.m.

“Scott’s starting on the upstairs in a few days. All this needs to be gone before then.”

Naomi gave her a sharp look at the mention of Scott’s name, but Claire avoided her friend’s prying eyes. She still hadn’t told Naomi that she’d slept with him, and she wasn’t about to now knowing how right her friend had been. Naomi had been worried Scott would hurt Claire. She’d been right.

“Where is Scott?” Audrey asked Claire carefully.

“Took a day off. Had something to take care of.”

It was a twist on the truth. Claire was the one who had something to take care of—this. She’d texted him earlier in the morning saying she needed a day’s break from the renovation chaos.

They hadn’t had any more contact following his terse OK response.

“Hey,” Audrey said. “Someone grab my drink so I can ditch the tray.”

“Where’d you even get the tray?” Naomi asked, picking up the third cocktail glass so Audrey could put the tray on Claire’s hallway table.

“I found it in the kitchen.”

“You went in,” Claire said, whirling around. “How does it look?”

“Still messy, but oh my gosh, I can tell it’s going to be fabulous. You haven’t seen it?”

“Scott’s being rigid and weird about it. It was the biggest overhaul, and he doesn’t want me to see it before it’s done. Apparently clients freak out.”

“And you listened?” Naomi was incredulous. “I would have been creeping under that big sheet thing so quickly . . .”

“Don’t,” Audrey instructed. “I think Scott’s right about this. You’re better off seeing it when it’s done. It’s sort of war zone–ish right now.”