Love on Lexington Avenue - Lauren Layne Page 0,81
Monday night if it’s easier. And don’t worry about Bob forgetting you. Dogs never do, but just in case, we’ll Skype or FaceTime or whatever so she can see you.”
Scott looked stunned. “You want to FaceTime with me?”
Yes, because unlike you I don’t just cut people out of my life the second I’m done with them.
“I want you to FaceTime with Bob,” she corrected.
“With Bob,” he repeated a little robotically. “How often?”
Claire smiled with false brightness. “Whatever. We’ll figure it out.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
TUESDAY, OCTOBER 8
Scott peered more closely at the slightly pixelated video of Claire and about half of Bob’s head.
“Is that fried chicken?” he asked incredulously.
“Yup,” Claire said around a bite of drumstick. “Don’t forget it’s eight p.m. here. Dinner.”
“Yeah, I’ve mastered the twelve-hour time difference,” he said. “I guess what I’m a little confused about is why Bob’s eating the fried chicken.”
“Just the occasional piece,” she said, breaking off a piece and giving it to an enraptured Bob. “No bones.”
Scott shook his head with a smile. “Glad I’m not the one who has to take her out tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll have you know that Bob’s morning constitutional lately has been supremely healthy.”
“You know, when you mentioned FaceTime with my dog, this isn’t what I imagined.”
Claire took her time wiping her mouth of chicken grease with a paper napkin, and Scott felt the strangest sense of elation that they were at that level of comfort with each other.
“What did you imagine?” she asked.
Scott realized he didn’t have an answer, because he hadn’t imagined any of it. He hadn’t imagined that Claire would even be willing to speak to him after the way he’d left. Certainly hadn’t imagined that she’d offer to watch his dog.
Least of all that she’d not only want to keep in touch about Bob, but like this.
But the biggest surprise of all was how much Scott enjoyed it. How, in the two weeks since he’d been in Shanghai, had this become the highlight of his day? They didn’t talk every day, mainly because he couldn’t bring himself to ask her for that, much as he longed to. He was the one who’d left; he definitely didn’t get to make demands.
Thus far though, it had worked out to be nearly every day. Unless he had an early meeting or she had evening plans, they had a standing “date” at 8:00 a.m. Shanghai/8:00 p.m. New York time.
If someone had told Scott a few months ago that his day would feel incomplete until he could talk to a woman, he’d have laughed in disbelief. And yet here he was, every morning, impatiently clock-watching through his breakfast of coffee and cereal, counting the minutes until he could see her again.
Them, he corrected. Until he could see them.
The calls always began with Bob and Claire’s faces greeting him on the screen, usually while sharing dinner. Bob, shockingly, lost interest in the whole thing once the food was gone. Scott and Claire both pretended not to notice when their supposed reason for the call inevitably bailed, and it was just Claire and Scott. Talking about everything. Or nothing. It didn’t matter. Scott had always loathed small talk, but there was no such thing with Claire. Even when he ended the call without a clear sense of what the hell they’d talked about for the better part of an hour, he never felt restless. Never bored.
What he felt was lonely.
The very same feelings that had once been his impetus to live the way he did, to leap at the most exotic locations, the longest projects, now seemed bigger than ever because he’d accepted this job.
“How’s the hand?” he asked.
Claire lifted her right hand, curled comically into a claw shape. “Basically useless after six straight hours of writing, which Bob loves. She hasn’t lost a single tug-of-war game since I started the invitations.”
“How’re they coming?” he asked as he refilled his coffee.
“Great. Did I tell you that my client’s daughter loved the sample I sent over at the end of last week? The bride already asked me to do the invitations for her best friend’s baby shower next month. Naomi thinks I should charge more, since they didn’t balk at the last price, but I think I’ll keep my prices consistent until I feel more confident in the whole process.”
“That’s great,” he said, fighting a surge of frustration that he wasn’t the first to hear about these wins for her fledgling business. Why would he be? He’d forgone that right when he’d walked away.
“Oh, crap,” Claire