"Yes, you did." Claire nodded. "And I want to thank you for that." So many people had impacted her life the past few months—Pearl and Harry, Samantha, Tom and Nancy, Vivian, Geraldine, Blake, and Michael.
"And he provided Blake to teach us how to prepare steaks— medium-rare. They're perfect." Pearl gave Harry a peck on the cheek.
Harry wiped his face on a napkin. "All right. All right. I've learned a lesson, but don't let it get to your head, son."
Blake laughed. "No worry there. This woman keeps me humble." He gestured across the table at Claire. "I've been trying to get close to her ever since I laid eyes on her."
Claire took a swig of soda to swallow the lump in her throat. "I had a good talk with Michael today." Why did she always see the need to change the subject? Trust. Isn't that what her father had instructed her to do?
Blake sat across from Claire and leaned in. "I saw you with him out front earlier today."
"Are you spying on me?" Claire tried to keep a straight face.
"Who, me?" Blake grinned.
"It's a nice night for a walk. Why don't the two of you let us clean up?" The corners of Pearl's mouth turned up. "Come on, Harry. You too, Samantha."
Did Samantha say something to Pearl?
Was it a setup?
"I'm not done with my steak." Harry glared at Pearl.
"You can finish inside the RV. Come on, now." Pearl tugged on his arm.
Samantha took her plate and stood from the table. She winked at Claire before she followed Harry and Pearl to the motor home.
Two minutes later, Claire sat alone with Blake. Did she dare tell him her true feelings? He looked vulnerable sitting across from her at the table. She stood and held out her hand. "That walk sounds good."
Blake pulled a small flashlight from his jacket and turned it on. "Want to hit the trail to the beach?"
"Are you sure you're up to it?" Claire pointed to his arm.
"If we take it slow." Blake rested his left arm around her shoulder and allowed her to navigate the path with the flashlight.
Take it slow.
That was exactly how Claire liked it. If she was going to trust Blake with her heart, she needed to take it one step at a time.
They stood on the trail overlooking the city lights. Claire knew Blake was in pain. She noticed him wince when he thought she wasn't looking. "Let's stop here." She leaned against the railing. "Blake, I—"
"Claire—"
"You go first." Claire looked up at the moon. It was full, casting a glow on the ocean.
"I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable earlier. I want you to know how much I care for you. And if I have to wait, I will." Blake gently touched her cheek.
"Yellow." Claire reached up and held his hand. "Your kitchen should be painted yellow."
"What?" Blake laughed. "You want to talk about my kitchen?"
"Remember when we were at Bella Roma? You asked me to help you pick out kitchen cabinets."
"Oh, yeah. Who'd forget that night? You weren't too happy with me."
Claire hesitated. "It wasn't you. I wasn't happy with myself. Blake, I'm scared. But I want to trust." She took a step forward, clasped her hands behind Blake's neck and stood on her tiptoes. "I love you and I promise I won't push you away if you want to kiss me." She closed her eyes, and tilted her chin. And waited.
"The question, honey, is if
you
want to kiss
me?"
Blake rubbed their noses together.
She peeked. "No doubt in my mind."
When their lips came together, Claire's heart nearly burst. The kiss was soft. Gentle. Like a warm caress. She couldn't believe what was happening. She was in love.
I
now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride," said the Pastor from Capitola Christian Fellowship.
Claire clutched Blake's hand as she watched Julia and David kiss. Her heart warmed at the genuine affection the bride and groom shared. She glanced at Blake and couldn't help but dream of her future.
Blake gave her a crooked grin. Was he thinking the same thing?
"And now, may I present to you: Mr. and Mrs. Richards," announced the Pastor.
Julia took her bouquet from her friend Emily, linked arms with David, and proceeded up the aisle. The crowd erupted in applause.
"She made such a beautiful bride." Haley, who sat on Claire's right, whispered in her ear. "I don't want to stand next to her. I'd look like a beached whale."
"You're barely showing." Claire patted her sister's pregnant belly. "And you're beautiful."
Haley kicked off her heels. "Thanks. You do wonders for my self-esteem."
Claire remembered their phone call a couple months back. Haley had begged Claire to return to L.A. But after a visit with her grandmother, Claire realized Haley needed to make it on her own. The healthy glow on Haley's cheeks was a clear sign Claire had made the right decision. Mark continued to live with his uncle, making great strides toward sobriety. Hopefully, Haley and Mark would work out their differences by the time their baby arrived.
Michael walked up the aisle with her grandmother on one arm and Sandy on the other. Claire noticed the way Michael and Sandy had looked at each other during the ceremony. If Claire wasn't mistaken, she saw renewed love.
Geraldine smiled at Claire as she walked past. Her grandmother was one determined woman. Not only did she get out of rehabilitation after only a week, but she also demanded Julia invite Claire to the wedding.
She grinned back. Claire loved her grandma with every ounce of her being.
"Ready?" Blake held out his arm, his wound completely healed.
"I've been ready for a long time. I just never knew it before today." Claire pressed a kiss on Blake's cheek, held his arm, and walked up the aisle.
Someday—when the time was right, she'd walk in the opposite direction—and Blake would be waiting at the other end.
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