“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice husky. “I need . . . I need to get some air.” Marcus calls after me, but I don’t look back. I’m out the back door in a flash. As soon as the night air hits my heated face, I gulp deep breaths. What the fuck just happened in there? Am I insane?
“Well that was fun,” Marcus mumbles from beside me. I didn’t even hear him follow me.
“Shut up, Marcus,” I groan.
He shifts beside me. He has no idea what to say. No friend likes telling another friend that they’re an idiot. Normally he’d come out with it anyway, but I guess with the subject matter being a delicate one, he’s holding back. His voice lowers. “You okay?”
“Other than making my sick kid cry on what was otherwise a perfect night? Yeah, I’m okay. Just fucking peachy.”
He pats the lower part of my back because that’s as high as he can reach. “Okay. You had a moment. We all do. Now it’s done. It’s out of your system.”
“I feel horrible for what just happened in there. I just feel so . . . gypped. It’s not fair.”
Marcus snorts. “I know you’re hurting, brother. I’m sure you feel gypped. You feel slighted. You feel like you were denied something you should have had.”
“Exactly,” I exclaim loudly.
“I’m sure Neena can relate.”
And there it is. Like a truck to the face. The only one who should get to act like a giant jerk because they feel robbed is Neena. Because she is getting robbed; she’s getting deprived of life, of time. I nod a few times, letting Marcus know I’ve heard him loud and clear. It was exactly what I needed to hear; a hard punch of reality to the nuts.
“So let’s go do the dishes since you’ve made all the ladies in the house cry tonight. Even Mei-ling has joined in.”
“When I fuck up, I go all out, don’t I?” I jest even though the humor isn’t there.
“We all have our gifts, my friend.”
Clara and Neena never come back down, even when Marcus and Mei-ling leave. Marcus and I had taken down all the pictures and lanterns, cleaned the kitchen, and put away the leftovers. Now the house is silent. As I finish climbing the stairs, I see Clara is in her room, lying on her bed. Her eyes are open as she stares ahead, lost in thought. I gently tap my knuckle on the door and her head pops up.
“May I come in?”
“Yeah,” she says as she clears her throat. “Shut the door behind you. I don’t want to wake Neena.” I do as she says and move so I’m standing in front of her where she’s now sitting on the bed.
“How’s Neena?”
She inhales and lets it out slowly. “She’s okay. She just hated seeing us fight. She’s asleep.”
Her red and swollen eyes meet mine and my chest aches so fucking bad. I drop to my knees and grab her hips, pulling her to me. Her hands find my shoulders and hold me so I can’t pull her closer.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“I’m getting on my knees and begging you to forgive me for being a giant asshole.”
She snorts.
“Not just tonight. But thirteen years ago. When I left.”
Her mouth tightens as she looks down at me. “I’m sorry, Clara. I love you. I loved you then. I love you now. I love Neena. And all I want, more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my entire life, is to love you both and be with both of you. I know you’ve fought for her—that you’re still fighting for her. I know you’ve done everything you can. Please forgive me.”
She looks away and I wonder if she can’t. Could I blame her if she couldn’t forgive me? But then, she sniffs once and pushes me back gently as she slides off the bed to her knees. I scoot back to give her room.
“I’m on my knees, with you, Paul. Neither of us are perfect. We’ve both made mistakes, and . . . I can forgive you. I do forgive you. Can you forgive me? For not finding you sooner.”
My eyes widen in shock.
“Yes,” I whisper. “I forgive you.”
Our eyes lock as we watch each other, our chest heaving up and down slowly. When her eyes move down to my mouth and her tongue darts out, wetting her lips, I can’t stop myself. I lean in, wrapping her in my arms, pressing her lips to mine. Her hands slide up my chest to my shoulders until her fingers are threaded in my hair and she holds it in her fists as I push her back against the bed and kiss her. When her hands move to untie the belt on my Hanfu, I grab her wrists, stopping her. Her brows furrow and her eyes are instantly filled with confusion and embarrassment.
“I want to,” I tell her. “So fucking badly.” I let out a frustrated breath. “But not tonight. I don’t want it to happen like this.” I do want it. But I want her to be happy, not with red eyes and a puffy nose because I’m a dick and I made her cry.
She nods a few times in understanding. I stand first, then hold a hand out, helping her to her feet. When she pulls at my shirt, I hold her wrists, questioning her with my eyes.