called, I just reacted.”
“I’m not sure I would have done any different,” Nicole said.
Claire hoped that was true. She didn’t want her sister going back into surgery with the two of them still fighting.
“It’s probably good that you’re around with all that’s happening with Jesse,” Nicole admitted. “Someone needs to be the voice of reason.”
“I’m far from that,” Claire said, “but I want to help.” She clutched her sister’s hand more tightly. “I’m sorry I said you were a victim. You’re not. You’ve done so much on your own, with no one to support you. I totally respect that.”
Nicole blinked several times. “I don’t mean to play the victim. It’s just lately it seems like there’s always a surprise waiting around the corner and it’s rarely good.”
That made Claire think of other surprises.
“What?” Nicole asked. “You’re thinking about something. I can tell.”
Claire didn’t know if this was the time. “It’s nothing.”
“I’m trying to keep my mind off my impending surgery. Please, tell me.”
“Okay.” Claire sighed. “I had a big fight with Wyatt. When I was gone the other night, I was with him.”
“I sort of figured that.”
“He’s not happy about the virgin thing.”
“Did you tell him before or after?”
“After.”
Nicole winced. “Did he freak?”
“Pretty much. I don’t know what the big deal is, but he was all having a hissy fit.”
Nicole laughed. “I’ve never seen him have a hissy fit. That would have been fun.”
“I guess. He seemed okay with it at the time. But since then he’s had more than second thoughts.” She paused, remembering what he’d said, what she’d never considered. That there was a chance she was pregnant.
“We didn’t use any birth control. Now he’s worried there might be a baby.”
Nicole’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, wow. He didn’t use a condom? Are you serious? Am I going to have a talk with him when I get out of here. It’s bad enough he slept with my sister, but to not use protection? That is totally unacceptable.”
Nicole was being protective. Who would have thought? Claire smiled. “For me, a baby would be a good thing.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, but Wyatt isn’t. He’s pretty angry. He started talking about how he wasn’t going to take responsibility and that I couldn’t trap him into marriage.” She still hurt when she thought about it. As if she would ever do that.
“Guys get weird about that stuff. Especially one who has been burned before.”
“Maybe. I don’t know. The thing is, I’m really excited about the thought of being pregnant. I’ve always wanted children. We argued about how that would happen. It was a mess.”
“I’m sorry he was a butthead.”
“Me, too.”
Nicole squeezed her hand. “Do you really want to be pregnant?”
Claire grinned. “It would be a miracle and yes.”
“Then I hope it happens for you. Hey, I’ll be an aunt.”
Another connection, Claire thought. Another tie. She wanted her life to be interwoven with those she loved.
“If I am pregnant, I’m going to have to work on my emotional health. I want to be a good mother.”
“There’s nothing wrong with your emotional health.”
“You said I was useless,” Claire reminded her. “I’m not holding that against you. I didn’t know how to exist in the real world.”
“Right. You didn’t. But you came here anyway. You drove on the freeway to get to me. You learned how to cook and run a washing machine. You’re great at the bakery, you’re babysitting. You’ve done all this without any help in a matter of weeks. Claire, I think you’re the most emotionally strong person I know.”
Claire didn’t know what to say. Her chest tightened, but this feeling had nothing to do with panic and everything to do with the affection filling her.
Nicole continued with, “Even now, you’re taking care of me. No one takes care of me.”
“I’m so amazing you should worship me,” Claire said with a laugh that was a little too close to a sob. “I want to take care of you.”
“I know. You’re a good person. A great sister and…” Nicole shrugged. “Okay. Here it is. Brace yourself. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Claire told her, leaning close so they could hug. “I can’t believe you finally said it.”
“Me, either.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“I PREFER THIS TILE PATTERN,” Alice Grinwell said firmly. “With the slate.”
Wyatt counted to ten. Mrs. Grinwell was building her third house with him in ten years. She’d also referred more than a dozen wealthy clients to him. Unfortunately she was one of those people who had more money than sense. In her mind, her life’s work was building and decorating beautiful houses. Her husband supported her activities.
Complicating what should have been a dream job was the fact that she changed her mind constantly. Every house took twice as long as it should have and cost three times as much. Not that Mrs. Grinwell cared.
“I want it to look like this,” she said pointing at the picture in the magazine showing the fireplace of a custom home up in Bellingham.
He had to admit the work was beautiful, but his tile guys had thrown up their hands, not sure how they would get the same look. Which meant he was going to have to hire the person who did it in the first place and pay for her to come down and work at Mrs. Grinwell’s place.
It wasn’t the cost-his client would cover that. It was the time and effort and the fact that he was still pissed at himself for how he’d handled things with Claire and angry with her for not recognizing the disaster that would follow her being pregnant.
“I’ll make it happen,” he said firmly. “I don’t know how long this will delay things, but I’ll get back to you as soon as I get the details worked out.”
Mrs. Grinwell smiled. “You’re always a pleasure to work with, Mr. Knight. I appreciate that.”
“Thank you.”
They talked about a few other details, then his client left. As she walked to her Mercedes, he stared after her, wondering what she would think if he asked her what it was like to be rich.
She probably wouldn’t know how to answer the question and in reality, he wasn’t sure he cared. He had his own business, he was comfortable. He supported himself, his daughter, provided employment for a couple dozen guys. He contributed.
Unlike Claire, he hadn’t personally made over two million last year.
He told himself that her money was the least of his problems. But it still fried him and he couldn’t figure out why. He’d always thought of himself as a man who was comfortable in his own skin. He respected women. Other people’s success didn’t change how he felt about himself. So what was the deal?
Was it because they’d gone out? Did he expect to make more than any woman he dated? Was he that backward emotionally? Or was it something more subtle? If it was, he was in trouble. Getting in touch with his inner anything wasn’t his strongest skill set.
“Screw it,” he muttered and turned back to the blueprints of the house and the magazine pictures that had
