10. Conrad

CHAPTER 10

CONRAD

W e dove headfirst into work after our tennis match, Claire on the balcony, me in the bedroom. We had no other choice. We had empires to run. We weren't at all burying our heads in the sand, pretending what happened on the tennis court hadn't just happened.

I hadn't set out to do it, but she'd closed her eyes. She'd tilted her head back. Let her lips part just slightly. If she hadn't done that…

I'd done it first.

I'd been the one who'd held her. Leaned in. Let my hand slide up the curve of her back. I'd wanted her, needed her, caught in that moment. Caught in the scent of her, the feel of her body. We fit together so well. She made my heart race. She made me think thoughts I had no business thinking, and she made me act on them without thinking at all.

I made a tch sound. She hadn't made me. I'd wanted to, plain and simple, and I still did. I was dreaming of kissing her instead of getting my work done, and if I didn't snap out of it?—

My phone beeped at my elbow. Claire's went off too. We both checked them, both frowned, and Claire stood up and stretched. She shook out her hair, copper in the late sunlight, and came in from the balcony and perched on the bed.

"Did Ken text you?"

"Yeah." I held up my phone. "Verity too?"

She leaned back. "Yeah. We can tell them you're busy if you've had enough for one day. I can go by myself, or put them off till tomorrow."

I glanced at my laptop, at the spreadsheet I'd been ignoring. With a gun to my head, I couldn't have said what was in it, earnings or outlay or HR complaints.

"You need this deal, right? Let's go on and clinch it."

Claire stood, and my first thought was she meant to hug me. But she just squeezed my shoulder, a quick, friendly gesture.

"Thank you," she said. "And just so you know, I get how busy you are, and how much you're doing. I'll owe you a huge one, whenever you need it."

I waved her off. "It's just dinner, and Joe's working on transport. With any luck, we'll be out by tomorrow."

We ate on the terrace, a glorious tapas spread, and I watched Ken and Verity as Claire worked to charm them. From what I could see, she had Ken on her side, but for all Verity's friendliness, she was still deciding. I'd done my reading on her, and she chose her allies with care — long-lasting partnerships built on firm layers of trust. Trust took more effort than simple liking. It took time to build and become something solid. Claire was on her way, but she had work to do yet.

"You know what we should do?" Verity was smiling. Ken pushed his plate away.

"Oh, no, don't say it."

Claire glanced between them. "Say what? Now I'm scared."

"Don't be," said Verity. "Ken's just a wuss. But they're putting on all sorts of fun to keep us amused, y'know, while the island's cleaning up from the storm. And tonight?—"

"No, no, no." Ken shook his head.

"Tonight's karaoke. We have to go try it."

I could see Claire was stressed from keeping up the charade. She'd picked up, no doubt, on the same cues I had — Verity's hesitation, her need to feel sure. Every moment we spent with her, lying, pretending, was one more opportunity to blow it all.

"It's been a long couple of days," I said.

"We'd love to," said Claire.

"Oh, that's the spirit! It's going to be great!"

Next thing I knew, we were in the packed cocktail lounge. The stage that usually housed performers had been cleared for the guests, and some old guy was rocking out to ‘Twilight Time.' A small crowd had gathered around the signup book, and Verity frowned at them.

"We'd better hurry, or we'll be waiting all night." She glanced at Ken, then at me and Claire. An idea seemed to dawn on her, and she brightened up. "How about I go up and pick out our songs? You guys find a table and order our drinks."

Claire started forward. "Wait! What if we don't know the song you… oh."

Verity was already gone. Claire blew through pursed lips.

"Guess I'll get our drinks," she said. "Ken? What are you having?"

"Gin fizz. I'm easy. And the same for my honey."

"Conrad?"

"I'll come with you."

We made our way to the bar and stood waiting at one end. It was a new experience for me, or rather new-old. I hadn't had to wait for much since Constel went global. A wave of nostalgia hit me, or no. Déjà vu. I'd been here before, or somewhere like this, waiting for something. Waiting with Claire. I tried to place the memory, chase it through time. When had we done this? When?—

"Remember grad week?" Claire nudged my elbow. The pieces clicked into place, and I did remember. For most kids, with the end in sight, it had been time to party. For me and Claire, it had been different. She'd just launched the app that would pave the way for Timeless, a comparison-shopping app that picked out clothes for its users, then sorted them by price, sustainability, and about ten other metrics. Me, I was balls-deep in building up Constel. It was still called Megrez back then, after the star, but marketing focus groups found that name "creepy."

"We met up at that place," I said. "Our last hurrah."

Claire leaned on the bar top. "What was it called?"

"I don't know. Something Britishy. The Horse and Whistle?" I smiled at the memory. They hadn't had karaoke at the Horse and Whistle, but they'd had a bar much like this one, with a few more cracks and gouges. They'd had a jukebox that didn't work and a TV that did, and some game had been playing, football. Baseball. Something loud, and the whole bar was cheering. Claire had to lean close so we could talk. She leaned in again now, and I inhaled her perfume.

"Can you even sing?"

I shrugged. "Can you?"

"Guess we'll find out." She waved to the bartender, but he didn't see her. I breathed in again, trying to catch that perfume. It wasn't the same one she'd worn in college, but it was similar. Notes of vanilla. I remembered thinking back then, she'd smelled like dessert. We'd danced in that bar, though no one was dancing. There wasn't even a dance floor, just a space by the jukebox. I'd spun Claire around to some song on my earbuds, one in my left ear, one in her right. It had felt like goodbye, because soon, she was leaving. Heading on a world tour to round up vendors.

"You'll be big," I'd told her.

She'd smiled. "You'll be bigger."

"And if you ever need me…"

"Plus-ones. I've got it."

"I never thought you'd call me," I said, in the present. Claire turned back.

"What?"

"After graduation. I thought we'd end up like kids who move states. They swear they'll write to their friends, and maybe they do a while, but then they make new friends and they forget. I thought that'd be us once we left college."

Claire frowned. "That's a sad thought."

"Yeah. Yeah, it was. But, you did call me."

Claire started to say something, but the bartender bustled up.

"Can I take your order?"

Claire got white wine. I got a martini. We found the table Ken had picked, close to the stage.

"Your gin fizz," I said, and handed Ken his drink. Claire set Verity's down just as she made it back.

"I got us in next." She sipped her drink. "Mm. I'm up, then Ken, and then it's you two."

Claire blinked. "What, together?"

"Yeah, a duet. It seemed cruel to split you up even for a moment." She winked across the table. "I saw how you were on those tennis courts. That's true love right there. As true as it comes."

Claire reached for her wine, but she didn't sip it. She drained a good half of it and set it back on the table. The emcee called on Verity, and she went skipping up. I felt for Claire's hand, but I couldn't find it.

"It'll be fine," I said. "No one expects us to be Sonny and Cher."

Claire didn't say anything, just narrowed her eyes. I watched her tension mount as Verity sang ‘My Heart Will Go On.' She had a voice on her, deep, rich, and silky, and the whole bar went quiet as she hit her stride. Claire's face was frozen in a smile dipped in panic. Ken was swaying, oblivious, lost in the music. A stab of envy lanced through me at his expression — pure comfort, enjoyment, affection. Love.

"We can't do that," hissed Claire.

"Most people can't. No one will mind."

She shook her head sharply, angry. Frustrated. "She can't remember us bombing or going half-ass. Everything counts. Why did I?—"

"Isn't she great?" Ken leaned back, smiling. "She paints as well, and she's a hell of a dancer. An artist in every way, is Verity."

Claire gulped the rest of her wine and stood up. "I need another."

"You won't have time," said Ken. "I'm up, then you."

She sat back down again and stared at her glass. Her eyes had gone shellshocked, all wide and glazed. Verity came back to us all giggly and smiling, borne off the stage on a tide of applause. I leaned on my elbow to whisper to Claire.

"Don't worry. Ken will suck, and he'll make us look brilliant."

Claire didn't relax at first, but then Ken took the mic. He didn't suck, but he wasn't great, either. He sang ‘Whispering Grass' and hit all the right notes, but his voice was thin, nasal, nothing special at all. Claire's fast, panicked breathing slowed. She sat back. I reached for her hand again, and this time, I squeezed it.

"We've got this," I told her, and then we were up. Claire seemed calm at first, maybe soothed by the wine, but her shoulders tensed up again as she checked the screen. She grabbed me and dragged me up to the mic.

"What even is this song? I don't think I know it."

I squinted at the monitor. "‘All I Ask of You.'" I could've throttled Verity on the spot. I was supposed to stand up here and beg Claire to love me? Look her in the eyes and tell her?—

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." I smiled. "See, look, it's easy. It starts with me solo. You'll pick up the tune and we're off to the races."

Claire knit her brow, doubtful, but the music was starting. I took her hands in mine, feeling self-conscious. It was only a song, only words set to music, but I realized I was nervous, my throat dry and tight. I'd never let myself dwell on how I felt for Claire, much less put words to it or speak them aloud. Our lives weren't built for that. It'd only destroy us. All I could ask of her was this, what we had. Not what I might've asked in another world.

Words flashed on the prompt screen, blinking my cue. The white ball bounced over them and I launched in, hoarse. My voice caught and cracked, and then I recovered. I tried to catch Claire's eye, but she was watching the screen, waiting for her cue, going pink as she read. She'd always blushed easy, always hated that she did that. Hated everyone knowing how she felt inside.

Her cue came up, and her hands twitched in mine. I squeezed her back, and a shiver ran through me. What if she did screw up? Could she even sing? I tried to remember if I'd ever heard her — at New Year's, maybe? Had she sung ‘Auld Lang Syne'? I willed her to be wonderful. To leave the stage smiling.

She started rough, just like I had, and my heart did a nosedive. Then she found her pitch, and as it happened, she could sing. She flubbed a few of the lyrics as the words flickered by, but her clear, sweet voice carried it, and I hardly noticed. I grinned, delighted. Of course she could sing. She could do anything. That was why?—

My next cue came up, and we sang together. Claire didn't look much at me, mostly fixed on the lyrics, but I could see she was smiling. Relaxing. Relieved. Even enjoying this, getting into the moment. I pulled her into my arms for our last reprise. She gasped, then kept going, and I spun her around. We held our last note and I held her close, and I knew in that moment what we had to do.

"We should kiss," I whispered, as the track faded out.

Claire stiffened. "What?"

"It'll look strange if we don't."

She glanced over at my shoulder, at the bar sitting silent, at Ken and Verity breathless, eyes fixed on us. They were all waiting for us to do what we felt, what of course we had to feel in each other's embrace.

Claire tilted her head back, the slightest of movements.

The violins trembled, sweet in the quiet.

I leaned in and kissed her for the first time. It was awkward at first, her lips pressed together, then they went soft and yielding and lightning forked through me. It lit me up like a candle, like coming alive, every part of me craving her, needing her closeness. I cupped her cheek for its softness against my rough palm. Tangled my fingers in her thick, curly hair. She sighed and slid her arms around my waist.

Home, I thought. Home. It's like coming home. Like I've been gone a while, but now we can ? —

A chorus of cheers went up, and a loud whistle. I thought Claire would spring back, but she just leaned in closer. She stole another kiss, and then she pulled back. The lights of the bar sparkled in her green eyes, and I wanted to dive into them and lose myself in her forever.