Chapter 8 - THE REUNION WITHOUT ME
The college reunion happened in June.
Ethan had originally planned to attend with Natalie.
Now he went alone.
I knew because Mark sent me a photograph.
Ethan stood with a group of old friends.
Natalie was nowhere in sight.
Later that evening, Mark called.
“Claire, something happened.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“Natalie showed up.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
Mark continued.
“She tried to sit beside Ethan during dinner. He moved.”
I stared.
“What?”
“He told her he wasn't comfortable with the way she'd treated you.”
I sat down.
Mark sounded almost impressed.
“Then she started crying.”
I sighed.
“What did he do?”
“He didn't follow her.”
I closed my eyes.
Mark continued.
“She accused him of abandoning her. Said you'd turned him against her.”
I felt sick.
“And?”
“He told her she needed to stop blaming you for boundaries he should have established years ago.”
I stared at the wall.
Then whispered:
“Good.”
The following morning, Ethan sent me a message.
I saw Natalie last night. I told her our friendship can't continue in its old form. I won't have private contact with her for the foreseeable future. I wanted you to hear it from me.
I read it twice.
Then replied:
Thank you for telling me.
Two weeks later, my Harbor Point presentation took place.
I stood before a panel of city officials, developers, environmental specialists, and community representatives.
I spoke about public access.
Native plants.
Flood resilience.
Places where children could play.
Places where older people could sit and watch the water.
I didn't think about Ethan.
Or Natalie.
Or my marriage.
For forty-five minutes, I was simply Claire Morgan, landscape architect.
And I was good.
Three days later, Daniel called.
“We got it.”
I screamed.
Actually screamed.
Then laughed.
Then cried.
My team celebrated at the office.
Rachel brought champagne.
Mia brought cake.
And Ethan sent flowers.
White peonies.
My favorite.
The card read:
You earned every bit of this. I'm proud of you.
No demand.
No apology.
No hidden request.
Just pride.
I stared at the flowers.
Then smiled.
That evening, I called him.
He answered immediately.
“Claire?”
“Thank you for the flowers.”
His voice softened.
“Congratulations.”
I smiled.
“Would you like to have dinner sometime?”
Silence.
Then:
“Are you sure?”
I looked around my apartment.
“Yes.”
He exhaled.
“I'd love that.”
May you like
For the first time, I wasn't inviting him back because I was afraid to lose him.
I was inviting him because I wanted to see who he was becoming.
