39. Clara

CHAPTER 39

Clara

When Raleigh and I sit down to a fresh breakfast of waffles and coffee the next morning, I feel the difference between us immediately. Raleigh is still reserved, but it feels less like she's hiding her thoughts from me and more like she's not sure what her thoughts are at all. She keeps looking at the bruises on my face, and every time she does, fury and pain spark in her eyes.

Because it feels unfair to keep it from her, I give her a brief summary of everything that happened after she helped me leave the Warwick estate. I gloss over the pain inflicted and how much blood my uncle shed as he died. Instead, I focus on how relieved I was to win Paul to my side, how cathartic it was to take a page from her book and burn the whole thing down, and how surprised I was when Paul took Iris in his arms and kissed her.

Raleigh isn't distracted by any of the shallower aspects of my story- not even by the headline-worthy gossip of Iris having a secret husband in a rival family. My best friend's role in everything I went through is too significant, after all. She told me not to come back until my uncle was dead, and I took that order seriously. The pain I suffered at his hands, the sleeplessness and hunger and fear, they were all necessary. I don't regret a moment of what happened, but I can tell she does.

Someday, I hope I'll find the words to tell her she wasn't wrong to push me to do what needed to be done. That if she hadn't given me that ultimatum, I might've turned away right at the end, and caused greater damage for my cowardice.

But today, I don't want to talk about what's already over. I want to talk about what might happen next.

"Raleigh?"

She looks up from her hot latte, cupped in her hands but not even tasted yet. "Hm? What?"

I blush, and almost lose my nerve. She knew when we were kids that I liked her brother. But back then, it was a crush, and we were teenage girls. Everything was too serious to us, and at the same time, nothing was. But now we're women, and when I tell her I'm in love with her brother, and he proposed to me in bed… that means something.

And in a way, I won't feel right about this- living in the Warwick house, being with Thomas, any of it- until I know that she does too.

"Thomas… He… asked me something last night."

Raleigh's expression immediately switches from melancholy to mortified. "Oh- um. Okay."

"He wants me to stay," I manage. "He wants me… t-to marry him."

Raleigh buries her face in her hands. "Oh- Gross ! Bad enough I thought it was a one night thing but- guh. You're telling me I've got to live in the same house as my best friend and my brother being intimate every day? Why couldn't he stay a boring bachelor forever?! "

I twiddle my fingers in my lap. "I'm… sorry?"

"You should be," Raleigh huffs sarcastically, raising her head. "Him proposing to you is definitely all your fault. Ugh, I can't believe you said yes though. You couldn't at least make him work for it?"

My stomach twists. Every time I blink, I see the way the warmth in Thomas's eyes disappeared behind stoicism. I hear how his voice, warm with passion and… and love, became distantly polite. Would Raleigh consider my awkward hesitation last night ‘making him work for it'?

"I… haven't accepted yet," I admit.

Raleigh's jaw drops. "You- haven't?! Why not?"

"Because if I become a mafia wife, doesn't that mean I'm giving up?" I blurt out. It's the first time I've dared to speak the words aloud. If I stay with Thomas, then running away from my uncle would've been worthless, right? I wanted out of the mafia life so that I could paint in peace.

Except-

"So do both."

I blink and look up at her. "What?"

Raleigh rolls her eyes, but she softens it with a smile. "Thomas isn't going to tell you to stop painting, Clara. No one here is. Maybe that's how your uncle was, but he's dead. You can do whatever you want now."

I wince at the casual way she says the words ‘he's dead', but after a moment, what she said really sinks in. Ever since I left the Warwick house, my uncle was an obstacle between me and my happiness. Between me and my future, really. Now that he's gone, I can do… anything. I don't have to be afraid anymore.

"And obviously ," Raleigh goes on, "I don't want you to leave. Even if it means you're married to my dumb brother and the two of you are insufferably mushy every day."

It's suddenly hard to swallow. Before I realize it, tears are slipping down my cheeks. Raleigh sets down her latte with a clatter.

"Shit. What's wrong? Did I say something? Listen, it's fine if you're in love or whatever. That's good . I'm just being a brat, all right? For fuck's sake, don't turn my brother down just because I'm busting his chops, okay?"

It's the first time I can remember Raleigh being conscious of what she's said, and it makes me laugh. "I won't, I promise. I mean…" I swallow, the humor turning sour on my tongue. "I hesitated last night after he asked, and I think I really hurt him. I couldn't even manage to ask him to let me think about it. I just… froze. Now I don't even know what to say. He was so sure, and I wasn't. Isn't it wrong that I couldn't answer right away?"

" No ?!" Raleigh cries. "Obviously not! Your whole life has been in total chaos since you came back to us. A lot of that is my fault, not yours or his. If I'd just helped you run away that first night, none of this would have happened. And you literally just escaped being captured by your uncle and, oh yeah, fucking killing him and burning your own house down. You owe me for stealing my idea, by the way."

I snort a laugh through tears that are still falling. "I never thought I'd say this, but I'm glad you tried to set me on fire when I showed up at your house. I probably wouldn't have thought of it otherwise."

Raleigh's smile is crooked and smug, but she doesn't have a chance to argue. An alarm suddenly blares out over the patio, making us both jump. A second later, Thomas throws open the back door.

"Inside, now. There's a raid incoming."

"From fucking who?!" Raleigh demands, wasting no time grabbing her latte and going for the door. I quickly follow, letting Thomas herd us both inside like miscreant chickens. His hand brushes against the small of my back, and I want to lean into the touch, but he's already stepping ahead to lead us deeper into the house.

"The Sheriff," he says tightly. "Apparently we're not done with each other just yet."