The Promise of Us (Sanctuary Sound #2) - Jamie Beck Page 0,70
she meant it. If he weren’t dead tired, he might’ve pressed her for details.
Chapter Thirteen
Claire sat at her dining table, surrounded by empty wrappers and a toppled carton of Milk Duds, peeking over her shoulder at that scrapbook less often in the past hour than during the one before that. Most of the time she’d been playing with Logan’s living room design on her CAD program.
The sooner she finished his project, the sooner she’d be able to put him behind her. And putting him behind her was now a priority. She’d known better than to let things get this far, yet she’d barreled ahead on impulse. Exactly the kind of thing Peyton would’ve done. God! Is that what happened with Todd?
She slapped her cheeks to clear those thoughts, then refocused on the experimental combinations of furniture layouts meant to create intimate groupings and maximize flow. One involved a traditional U-shaped layout with a sofa and two chairs around a coffee table, the other being four comfortable chairs circling a round ottoman table.
Her stomach growled, so she went to the kitchen to rummage for more snacks. Dishes from breakfast remained in the sink. She suppressed the gnawing ache of how she’d blown everything up before giving it a chance.
After staring inside the refrigerator for a long while, she grabbed two tapioca pudding cups. On her way back to the dining table, the doorbell rang. She clutched the twin cups to her chest and held her breath. Logan?
After setting the pudding on the counter, she tried to use the microwave glass as a mirror, which didn’t work well. Shrugging, she smoothed her hair back behind her ears and went to the door.
With a deep breath, she opened it and then froze.
“Peyton?” Claire blinked as if looking at a mirage. Peyton stood on her porch, wrapped in a coat and scarf with a wool winter cap pulled down to her ears. Claire couldn’t very well let someone with a weakened immune system freeze outside. Dammit. “Come in.”
“Thank you.” Peyton stepped inside and loosened her scarf, but didn’t unbutton her coat or remove her hat.
Claire didn’t invite her to do so, either. Her heart beat erratically. “Why are you here?”
“Two reasons, actually. The first is about Steffi. I know she asked you to be her maid of honor, and that you know she asked me to be a bridesmaid. I’ve been thinking about it, and while I’d love to participate, I don’t want to ruin the experience for you. I’m sure you’d rather not plan a bachelorette party with me, or other things like that. You and she are partners and have kept in better touch with each other throughout the years. After what I’ve done . . . well, I’ll bow out if it makes it easier for you. I can find other ways to be involved and will be happy in the pews with everyone else.”
Claire stared at this stranger masquerading as Peyton. All those weeks she’d dreaded Peyton’s return, she’d assumed her old friend would be coming back. The one who’d rarely let other people’s hang-ups prevent her from doing anything. The one who’d craved attention and adulation.
She had no idea how to confront—or trust—this more selfless version. But it made Claire feel small to harbor so much ill will toward her now.
“That’s gracious, but if you aren’t involved, then it will ruin things for Steffi. It’s her day, and her wishes matter most. I won’t let our problems interfere with her joy.”
“Thank you.” She smiled. “I know you aren’t doing this for me, but I’m grateful anyway. I don’t know what you want to do for a bachelorette party, but if you’re busy with work, I’m happy to come up with ideas, make calls, or whatever. Just let me know.” Peyton shoved her hands in her coat pockets.
Claire’s head spun. “I’m still reeling from the wedding news and need a minute to catch my breath. I’m also in the middle of finishing Logan’s design plan, so I can’t think about party plans until tomorrow at the earliest.”
Peyton held her breath for two seconds before exhaling. “That actually brings me to the other reason I wanted to see you.”
Claire tilted her head, praying Logan hadn’t said anything, but knowing from the look on Peyton’s face that he had. “Which is . . . ?”
“Logan came home late this morning and put himself to bed. He was still sleeping when I left the house.” She stared at Claire like she wanted her