that out loud is sobering. The words seem to hang over our heads, not disappearing into the past like some words do.
I blow out a breath, trying to rid myself of the heaviness of the moment. I go back to the closet and sort through the clothes. Shirt after shirt goes by, none of which I really see. All I can see is Trevor’s face lowering to kiss my cheek. All I can feel is the way my heart wants me to let it happen even though it knows the pain of the inevitable destruction.
“I don’t think you give the guy enough credit,” Claire says.
“It’s not about credit. It’s about what he’s told me from the start he believes and wants and accepts as his truth, and all those things don’t mesh with mine.” I yank a mustard-colored dress off a hanger and add it to the suitcase.
“Are you falling in love with him, Haley?”
“No,” I say, my head snapping to hers. “That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying I don’t want to get to that point because he doesn’t even believe in love. Not like I do. Not like you get married and build a family and dedicate yourself to that.”
“But . . . ,” she prods.
My shoulders fall. “But he’s pretty great.”
“Yeah. We’ve known that from day one.”
“Yeah,” I say quietly.
Claire gets to her feet, a look of resolve on her face. “Here’s what I think you do: Go to Nashville. Have a blast. Follow your heart but don’t lose your head.”
“Right.” I groan. “He looks at me or stands too close, and I just want to forget my heart and head and let my body take over.”
“Can’t blame you there. But,” she says, grabbing the bag of popcorn and putting the clip back on it, “I also know you’re smart. And super strong. And whether you know it or not, you’ll do what’s right for you.”
“I haven’t always done that.”
She considers this. “No, you haven’t. One word: Joel.” She laughs. “But you’ve changed lately. I like this new you.”
We exchange a smile before she takes the mustard dress out of the suitcase and puts it back on the hanger. “You aren’t taking that. It makes you look ashy.”
“I love that,” I say, breathing in a sigh of relief.
“Yeah, and I love you.” She puts it back in the closet. “So back in the closet it goes . . .”
I lug the suitcase up and set it on the bed. It’s loaded to the max with a little of every color, fabric, length, and degree of sophistication I own. “I, once again, have no idea what to wear,” I say, remembering dinner at the steakhouse. I wince. “I’ll be damned if I show up to a place with his ex, or exes, and look like crap.”
Oh, God. What if there is more than one Liz there? What if several of his past cling-ons are there? He’ll have slept with all of them.
I can’t do this.
“I’m not sure you could look like crap. And that’s probably what he thinks too.” Claire tosses my hair like I’m a child. “Stand up.”
“Why?” I ask as I get to my feet. “You know, maybe I should call this off.”
Claire takes my hand and walks me to the mirror over my dresser. “Look at yourself.”
I do and then look at her.
“At you. Not me,” she says, bumping my shoulder.
“Fine. Now what?”
“That girl you’re looking at is pretty great. She’s so pretty it hurts to be seen with her. And so smart that her gorgeous friend comes to her with language arts homework because she’s the only person in town who knows what alliteration is.”
I laugh. “That’s not true.”
“Shhh.” Claire brings a finger to her lips. “She’s also caring and kind and is probably a great kisser.”
“Oh, my gosh, Claire.”
“And,” she says, pointing back to the mirror, “she deserves to be happy in whatever way she wants to define that, and she should absolutely not accept anything less.”
My emotions get the best of me. I blink back tears. “Thanks, friend.”
“Have fun this weekend. Enjoy getting dressed up and drinking champagne and being around Trevor.” She looks at me through the mirror again. “And for the love of God, if he wants to touch you, let him.”
I step away from the mirror.
“What time is he picking you up?” she asks.
“In about an hour.” Panic sweeps over me and I sit back on the bed. I’m not ready for this in so many ways. “I need