"Becoming my mother."
Dean frowned.
Clare's mother had married young.
Abandoned her own career.
Spent twenty years resenting Clare's father for choices she had made herself.
Clare had spoken about it constantly in college.
She continued.
"You had a plan."
"Garage."
"House."
"Kids."
"I wanted those things too."
"But every time you talked about them, I felt walls closing."
Dean looked at her.
"I never asked you to quit anything."
"I know."
"Then why punish me for what your father did?"
"I was twenty-five."
"That's not an answer."
"No."
"It's an explanation."
Dean sat back.
Clare continued.
"I got the London fellowship."
"It was supposed to be a year."
"You said we could make it work."
"You offered to come."
"I panicked."
Dean remembered.
His apartment.
Rain against windows.
Clare's suitcase by the door.
He had asked what she wanted.
She said she needed a clean break.
He had thought that meant she no longer loved him.
Apparently she had thought it meant freedom.
Both had been wrong in different ways.
Clare said, "If you came with me, I knew I'd let you."
"And then?"
"I thought I'd wake up at forty and blame you for every thing I didn't do."
Dean stared.
"Instead?"
"I did everything."
"And?"
She looked toward him.
"I still blamed myself for losing you."
That landed quietly.
Dean looked toward Evan's truck.
His son now sat in the open doorway eating crackers from a small bag.
Watching them.
Of course.
Dean pointed.
"Stop listening."
Evan looked offended.
"I'm eating."
"Inside."
"It's nicer outside."
"Inside."
Evan sighed dramatically and climbed into the truck.
Clare smiled.
"He's wonderful."
"He is."
"Anna must have been..."
She stopped.
Dean looked.
"She was."
Clare nodded.
"Tell me about her."
Dean had not expected that.
"Why?"
"Because she mattered to you."
"She still does."
"I know."
Clare's voice was steady.
"Tell me."
So he did.
Not everything.
Enough.
Anna Mercer.
Emergency-room nurse.
Met Dean when he brought in a coworker with a broken wrist.
She flirted while filling out paperwork.
He did not notice.
She told him directly.
They dated six months.
Married quickly.
Evan came sooner than planned.
They were terrified and happy.
Then Anna found a lump.
Breast cancer.
Treatment.
Remission.
Return.
Aggressive.
Six months from recurrence to funeral.
Clare listened without interrupting.
When Dean finished, his hands were dirty and his voice was thin.
Clare touched his forearm again.
"I'm sorry you lost her."
"So am I."
"Do you feel guilty talking to me?"
Dean looked at her.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because part of me is happy you're here."
Clare's expression softened.
"That doesn't erase her."
"I know logically."
"Emotionally?"
"Different."
She nodded.
"I can wait."
Dean gave her a sharp look.
"Wait for what?"
"Whatever this is."
"There is no this."
Clare smiled.
"You kissed me with your eyes five minutes ago."
"That is not a thing."
"It absolutely is."
Dean laughed despite himself.