The Promise of Us (Sanctuary Sound #2)(28)

Claire shuffled toward the table, the heat in her cheeks nearly unbearable. Sweat formed on her back and scalp, but she refused to take off her coat or give the impression she’d be staying. She hadn’t thought to check to see if anyone else who knew them was watching. She hoped so, only because then the whispered dialogue would finally shift away from “poor Claire” commentary.

“Hello.” She cleared her throat while coming to a stop behind an empty chair. She nodded at Steffi before facing Peyton, wishing she’d prepared a speech. Extemporizing wasn’t her strength. “I’m sure you know that I’m working with Logan now. You’re lucky to have such a thoughtful brother.”

“I know.” Peyton’s thin, ruddy skin looked dry and raw. She tugged at her head scarf and then at her cardigan. “He’s the best.”

Peyton’s apparent shame and fragility twisted through Claire’s indignation, loosening the knots that kept her trussed up in anger.

“He’s asked me to let you apologize. While I don’t like being pressured, I also can’t, in good conscience, accept his money while simultaneously denying him something he wants so badly. So I’m here to listen, if that’s what you want, of course.”

“It is.” Peyton darted a look at Steffi.

“I’m going to the ladies’ room.” Steffi rose from the table and patted Claire’s shoulder before she gave them some privacy.

“Do you want to sit?” Peyton gestured to the empty chair.

“No.” Claire remained safely behind the vacant seat. “I’m leaving as soon as my lunch is ready.”

“Okay. I understand.” Peyton drew a breath. “I told Logan not to interfere, but thank you for giving me the chance to tell you, in person, how very sorry I am. It was horribly wrong to hurt you that way.

“I’ve gone back through the years, remembering all the ways you were a good friend to me. Like when you went to bat for me when Mrs. Morton blamed me for tromping through her garden. Or how you sat with me, holding my hand for the longest two minutes of my life at twenty, and then celebrated the fact that I wasn’t pregnant. How you encouraged me to pursue a writing career in spite of the fact that I knew I could never live up to my great-grandfather’s legacy.

“I can’t understand, let alone explain, why I did what I did, Claire. I justified it a hundred ways in the beginning. The way I first met Todd at the coffee shop before knowing that he was your Todd. How I then tried to ignore him once I realized the situation, but that only seemed to make us both more crazed. The way he convinced me we . . . well, it doesn’t matter. Why I thought I could be happy going forward while knowing what I’d done to you I’ll never know.” Her voice cracked, so she paused to sip some hot tea. Claire hoped her face hadn’t winced each time Todd’s name had come up.

Peyton set the small cup down, eyes downcast, and spoke barely louder than a whisper. “Until then, I wouldn’t have believed I was capable of hurting someone I loved. The fact that I’d convinced myself that I had a good excuse is not something I’ll ever get over. I’ve hated myself for it, but I can’t undo it or escape the truth of how selfish I was . . . I am.” She then met Claire’s gaze.

Claire struggled to maintain eye contact but wouldn’t break away. She had to finish what she’d started and remain strong throughout.

Peyton continued, “I don’t expect you to get over it, either. You have the right to all of your feelings. But please believe that I deeply regret what I did. If ever you’re willing to let me be some small part of your life again, I would prove how much I value you. I’ve missed our friendship so much. I swear, I’d never hurt you again, and I’d do anything for the chance to rebuild your trust.”

If only pretty words could erase pain and betrayal. If they could undo the damage and turn back time to the way things used to be, Claire would rejoice.

Warm tears swam in her eyes. Her throat grew thick and sore, her chest heavy. She couldn’t pretend some part of her didn’t miss Peyton—the Peyton from before the Todd debacle. The wild friend who’d always made Claire laugh. But the bigger part simply could not open up her heart to forgiveness. “I accept your apology.”

Peyton broke into a teary smile and stood to hug her, but she stepped back.

“I accept the apology, Peyton, but I’m not ready to be friends. I might never be ready.” Claire watched Peyton’s contrite nod as she took her seat again and readjusted her head scarf. “I know that’s not what you want to hear, but when I look at you, I see Judas. I don’t know how to let you rebuild the bridge you burned. But I won’t hate you, and I’m glad that you’re recovering. I hope, when all is said and done, that you never have to go through another health scare.”

“Claire!” called Lawana.

“You should get your food while it’s hot.” Peyton refolded her napkin across her lap. “Thanks for hearing me out.”

“You’re welcome.” Claire glanced toward the bathroom. “Tell Steffi I’ll speak with her later.”

She turned and went to the hostess station to pick up her lunch, then left the restaurant without looking over her shoulder. She gulped for air as adrenaline ebbed. Thank God for Rosie or she might’ve stumbled all the way to her car. When she got there, she set the takeout bag on the passenger seat and buried her face in her hands.