19. Claire

CHAPTER 19

CLAIRE

f orget him , texted Sunny. 2 weeks is the cutoff.

to me it's like, fine. we're just fwb. but be a man and SAY SO. don't be a ghost

Was Conrad ghosting me? Or was it his lawsuit? He hadn't settled, and the press wasn't good. But he'd been through worse than this and not cut me off.

He's not ghosting, I wrote, for my benefit more than Sunny's. We do this a lot, go weeks without talking. It just means he's busy, or I am. Whatever.

yeah, but has he ever not ANSWERED ur texts? there's a difference between when you BOTH aren't texting and one of you texting while the other ignores u.

Sunny raised a valid point, but that wasn't Conrad. Ghosting was what cowards did, and he was no coward. You didn't build a phenomenon like Constel by running away. If he wasn't texting — which he definitely wasn't — he had a reason. A real one, not fear.

Maybe he'd never got my texts. His phone could've died. He'd killed one in college, dropped it in with the dishes. These things did happen, not often, but sometimes.

His phone could have died , I wrote.

rly?

RLY!!?!!?!??!!!!

Sunny sent me a string of clown face emojis. I sent back an angry face and tossed my phone in my purse. I wasn't sure if I was mad at Sunny or mad at myself for being so stupid. Of course he was ghosting me, but why? What the hell? He'd said it himself — he didn't want to mess up our friendship. Well, friends texted friends. Friends didn't ignore friends.

I pulled out my phone again, but no. Just no . How needy would that be, texting four times? Even to ask if he'd got my texts? When he was ready to talk to me, he would reach out.

But what about my needs? I want to talk now.

I scrolled back through our message history, checking the dates on our texts. There had been a few gaps where one of us texted, and then the other took a while to get back. I'd left Conrad hanging eight days one time. He'd kept me waiting four days, then nine. This wasn't much worse than that, except it was . Those other times, we hadn't just slept together. We hadn't just shared the most wonderful dream. It had been wonderful, hadn't it? For me, it had, but what about Conrad? The way he'd cared for me hadn't felt one-sided, how he'd washed my hair and later, he'd brushed it. He'd held me so tenderly as we went to sleep.

I tossed my phone in my purse again and made my way to the gym, but even the elliptical machine couldn't shake thoughts of Conrad. I cranked the resistance till I was sweating and straining, threw my whole body into it, and still the thoughts came, doubts and what-ifs, a deep, wanting ache. I'd only slept two nights curled in his arms, but I'd missed his warmth this morning waking up. This morning and every morning since I'd got home.

What if our dalliance had been a test drive for Conrad? If he'd play-acted a relationship to see how he'd like it, and I'd fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker? If he'd satisfied his curiosity, and now we were done?

I got off the elliptical and moved to the bike. Hunched over the handlebars and stomped down on the pedals. Rage spurred me on. I'd thought better of Conrad. The Conrad I knew wouldn't use me as his test run. Wouldn't drop me like a hot rock once he'd had his fun. What was he doing right now, playing golf with some client? Wining and dining them? Signing a contract? Going about his life without a thought for what we'd shared.

What if he missed me too? If he missed me too much? What if he was ghosting me because he felt the same loss I did, and he couldn't bear to talk to me knowing we could go no further?

I got off the elliptical and hit the showers, a blast of cold water to clear out the cobwebs. I gasped at the chill and forgot about Conrad, but the second I turned the heat up, his specter was back. If he'd just talk to me, I could move on. If he'd tell me, Yeah, sorry. We had some fun, but I can't slow down for anyone. You understand, right?

What if he'd seen my first text, but he'd been busy? Then I'd sent another one. Had that seemed clingy? Had sending a third one been a massive red flag?

I checked my phone, toweling off. Still nothing from Conrad. I read over my last three texts, searching for flags.

Just heard from Verity! Thanks SO MUCH again! I owe you for this one, so collect anytime.

That one seemed fine, at least up to thank you . Had he taken that last part as some kind of come-on? I owe you, big boy, so come on and get me. A prickly hot flush rose up my neck. Had he read it like that? Did I sound like a stalker?

Heard about the lawsuit. Everything okay?

My second text was blameless, except that it was my second. Conrad got sued all the time, the cost of doing business. Had the artist lawsuit been too thin a pretext? Did he think I'd jumped on any excuse to text him? In truth, I had. He wouldn't be wrong.

Hey, checking in to see how you're doing! Hope our unscheduled layover hasn't left you buried!

That third one, oh God. How desperate was I? Two exclamation points? Who wrote like that? I sounded like a teenager with her first crush. And to think I'd been considering texting again! Sunny was right. I needed to cool it. To get on with my own life and let Conrad live his.

But Conrad had been there for me since we met in college. We'd been there for each other, building our empires. Especially those first few years, when nothing was certain — he'd call me. I'd call him. We'd talk through the night. We'd planned and we'd strategized and we'd pushed each other, and slowly but surely, our stars had both risen. We'd celebrated our highs together and mourned our lows. Twelve years of friendship were a lot to lose.

I sat staring glumly at my phone screen, out of what-ifs and maybes and shadows of hopes. Sunny was right — two weeks was the cutoff. I'd just make a fool of myself holding on beyond that. Better to walk away with what dignity I could salvage.

I tossed my phone in my gym bag. It rang right away. I dove for it, certain it had to be Conrad, but the name on the call display was Verity Halford. My heart did a swooping thing, a dip of disappointment, a flutter of nerves. I swallowed, then answered.

"Verity! How are you?"

"Oh, I'm doing great, and our deal looks good too. Got my lawyers going over it, but it all seems solid. Speaking of which, I'm having a pop-up show next month at the Met. My art in the Met — isn't that the dream? Well, in the Met, and in everyone's closets." She laughed at her own joke, and I laughed along with her.

"That's great," I said. "Congratulations. What day are you having it? I'd love to drop by."

"Well, that's why I'm calling. It's the twenty-ninth of next month. I thought you could both come, you and Conrad."

My heart plunged to my toes. Text Conrad again? To ask him a favor, when he was clearly done? But what else could I do? My deal wasn't signed yet. If Verity caught a whiff of me being flaky, unable to maintain a solid relationship…

"There'll be a little party after the show, VIPs only, and of course, my team. It'll be a great chance for you to meet everyone in a more social setting. It's so important to do that, to know who you're working with."

I bit my lip hard to hold back my panic. What would Verity say if she knew what I'd done? If she knew who I really was, a liar, a poser? So desperate I'd let a misunderstanding spiral into this? She'd never work with me then. She'd be right not to. Why had I ever gone along with this nonsense?

"So, you'll be there, right?"

"With bells on," I chirped, shrill with false cheer.

"Oh, that's fantastic. I really can't wait. And Ken's going to love seeing Conrad again."

"Same goes for Conrad." The lies kept tumbling out. "He's been talking about you guys. About Ken's tennis game."

"Ooh, then we'll set up another round of doubles. Actually, that's perfect, because we've just lost our partners. He's got tennis elbow, she's got some work thing. It really was kismet, connecting with you."

By the time we'd hung up, I was shaking all over, partly from nerves, partly from my workout. I'd gone too hard in my anger with Conrad. And now I had to text him and say… and say what? What if he left my invite on read? I couldn't handle that. I'd crumble to dust. This, our plus-one deal, had been our one constant. The one thing we'd always done, no ifs, ands, or buts. If Conrad ignored that… no. No. I'd call him. We'd talk like adults and straighten this out.

Before I could change my mind, I tapped on his contact. It rang once, then twice, and then he picked up.

"Claire, hello, sorry. I only have a second."

I blinked at his brusque hello and sat saying nothing, my breezy invitation dead on my tongue.

"Claire? Are you there?"

"Uh…"

He sighed. "Ugh, I'm sorry. We haven't talked in a week, and I answer like that. I'm just between meetings, but of course I have time. Give me a second while I close the door."

I heard a door shut. Had he said a week? It had been two.

"Sorry," he said again. "I haven't sat down all day."

"Well, be sure to have lunch. It's coming on noon."

"That late?" His chair creaked as he sat. "I swear, this whole week's been like one long day."

"I won't take too much of your time, then." I winced at my tone, my crisp business voice. Since when had I talked to Conrad like that? "Verity's having a pop-up show in, uh, six weeks. The twenty-ninth of next month. I'll need my plus-one."

"Right, ah…" Conrad's chair creaked again as he stood back up. I heard him pacing, his shoes on the carpet. "Listen, about that, I know it's our deal. We've done it since college, but…"

My vision dimmed. But what?! He knew what this meant to me, Verity and Timeless. He'd got us into this, with his stupid lie. If he stood me up now, I'd smack him. I would.

He sighed. "This expansion's been rougher than I thought. My whole next month's booked. I didn't think you'd need me. Do you think you can handle this one by yourself?"

I gripped my phone tight. What if I said no? What if I told him hell, no, I couldn't? Now, more than ever, this was our deal. He owed me this last one, if nothing else.

"Fine, yeah. That's fine. Good luck getting settled." I was about to hang up then, but Conrad stopped me.

"Wait, Claire."

I waited. He said nothing more. Annoyance surged in me — wait, Claire, what?

"What is it?"

"Nothing, just… nothing. Next time, okay?"

I hung up heartbroken, too sad to be angry. Not once in twelve years had we pushed off our deal. I stared at my phone, my worst fears confirmed: Conrad had ghosted me. Our friendship had changed. I wasn't quite ready to call it over — time healed a lot of wounds, even in friendships. But I didn't think I could trust him again as I once had, knowing he'd do this when I needed him most.

"Goodbye, Conrad," I said to my silent phone. "The Conrad I thought I knew, goodbye to you."