So Long

Claire stares down at the text messages, sighing heavily. She locked herself in her bedroom as soon as she got back home; she wasn’t able to look Niall in the eye, so she did what felt like the right thing: She hid from him.

It’s been almost an hour since she sat on her bed, and the passing time has done little to ease the guilt that eats away at her. The relationship with Niall has been far better than she ever expected, definitely more than she deserves, and the evidence is in the exchanges on her phone screen. She can try to justify it as much as she wants, but there’s very rarely any reasonable excuse for texting an ex-boyfriend and reminiscing about the time you had together when you’re dating someone.

Exhaling shakily, she considers deleting the messages. That feels too much like admitting wrongdoing, so she closes out of the thread and pushes to her feet. She leaves her phone on the nightstand, crosses the room, and stops at the door. The device vibrates with an incoming text. A small part of her wants to read what Warren has sent, though the logical part of her brain tells her to go downstairs and pretend she never reached out to him.

“I texted my old boyfriend.”

The words are out before she can stop them, and Niall freezes with the can halfway to his mouth. He blinks a couple of times then sets it down, turns to face her straight-on, though his eyes don’t meet hers. Claire wrings her hands together but sits when he pats the couch next to him.

“Before I react, do you want to explain why?”

“I, uh... Okay. It started with not knowing exactly how I feel about the fact that you and I started living together before we started dating. I know he’s been in relationships since we broke up, and I, I wanted his perspective.”

“And?”

“And then we got talking about how it was when we were together.”

Niall breathes out slowly, and her heart could break with the fact that he hasn’t made eye contact once since she sat down. There’s a slight tremble, so slight she just barely notices, in his hand as he cards his fingers through his hair. She swallows thickly, reaches out toward him; she pulls her hand back before she can touch him.

“I - I didn’t want to lie to you,” she whispers, no matter how well she knows the damage has been done. “I just…”

Her words trail off, and he doesn’t speak. Niall turns his head away, and Claire wonders if they can come back from this. It’s only been a couple of days, but she’s already screwed up. She swallows the tears down.

“Niall, do you want me to leave?”

“What? Why would I want that?”

“Because -”

“Because you messaged your ex? Claire, I’m not going to sit here and tell you I’m happy that you, what, reminisced about your relationship, but who doesn’t?” He finally sighs heavily, turns his head to stare at her. “Why didn’t you talk to me about how you felt?”

“I, I don’t know. I didn’t want you to think I had doubts about us.”

“But you did?”

“Hell no,” she breathes out. His hand twitches, but he doesn’t pull away as her fingers lace with his. “I don’t have doubts about us. I don’t. I just, I needed reassurance from someone unbiased that it wasn’t such a crazy thing, to be living with someone you have strong feelings for before the relationship even starts.”

“And what did your ex say?”

“He said… he said he’s happy for us, that it wasn’t crazy. He and his fiancee have been living together since a week after they started dating, so he’d have no place to judge even if it was insane.”

“And you, er, you have…?”

Claire stifles her smile; it really isn’t funny. She squeezes Niall’s hand in hers. “No feelings for him whatsoever. It was nice to catch up, because he always was a good guy, but he wasn’t the guy for me.” She draws in a steadying breath, confidence bolstered by the fact he hasn’t stormed off yet. Her grip tightens on his hand. “I really didn’t want to lie to you or act like this hadn’t happened. I mean, it’s only been a couple of days, but… this is the best relationship I’ve ever been in. Even Warren never made me feel like this, and he would’ve been the closest.”

Niall exhales sharply, tugging her toward him. She goes willingly enough; guilt twists at her gut, but she ignores it. She has to believe that Niall wouldn’t be here right now if she’d made an irredeemable mistake. She swallows down the nerves before pulling back just enough to catch his eye.

“I am sorry. There was nothing inappropriate during the conversation I had with him, but I couldn’t hide it from you.”

“I’m not mad, Claire, I promise.” He kisses her forehead. “But next time? Please just talk to me, even if you think I won’t understand. If you haven’t noticed, I’m a stubborn one, and I won’t just walk away if I think there’s still a chance to work things out.”

She nods succinctly then bites her lower lip before asking slowly, hesitatingly, “Does this mean that you’ll still go to my family dinner on Sunday?”

He groans and falls backward onto the couch, his hands coming up to cover his face. Claire giggles, pokes the exposed strip of skin above the waistband of his jeans. He moves more quickly than she expected, his fingers wrapping tightly around her wrist, and she lets him pull her closer.

“Of course I’m coming to your family’s dinner on Sunday, silly girl. We’re dating, aren’t we?”

“Hell yeah, we are.”

The kiss is sloppy, uncoordinated from their smiles, but Claire falls headfirst into the relief and - and love. Remorse still courses through her, reminds her that she nearly lost this relationship before it could even really start. She ignores it as best she can, promising herself that she won’t let something like that happen again.

The guilt abates more and more over the next few days, aided by the fact that nothing between Niall and her seem to change. He leaves to do whatever he needs to do, Claire goes to work at the bakery, and they spend the evenings together. Sometimes they watch television, but other times, they share a bottle of wine and talk for hours. It’s a very pleasant way to pass the time, and she certainly isn’t going to complain about it.

Claire feels much less conflicted about what she did by the time she wakes up early Sunday morning. Her sleep had been incredibly restful, and she is pretty sure it’s only because she slept wrapped up in Niall’s arms through the night. It is only the second time she’s spent the night in his bed, but it’s quickly becoming her favourite place to be. Though, if she’s being honest with herself, she would have to say that being next to Niall has been her favourite place since that night in New York.

After watching Niall sleep for another half-hour, feeling like a creep the entire time, Claire carefully climbs out of bed and tiptoes across the room. Weak sunlight comes in from the windows downstairs; she pads to the kitchen, starts up the coffeemaker.

It’s peaceful, really, to be alone with only her thoughts as she cooks pancakes and scrambled eggs. Claire hums under her breath while she works, disjointed snippets of songs from a variety of genres, body moving with the beat. It isn’t until she feels arms snaking around her waist that she realises she isn’t alone any longer.

“Excuse me, sir, but I’m quite busy at the moment.”

Niall chuckles into the curve of her neck, lips soft when he presses a kiss to the skin. “Yes, and I wasn’t keen on interrupting your lovely dancing.”

“But yet, you did.”

“I did.” He releases her, stepping back as she turns from the stove. “How long have you been up?”

“About an hour or so. Go, sit. Breakfast is ready.”

“You are too good to me.”

“I’ve been saying that for the last year, and you’re just now realising I was right?”

The smile she flashes him takes any sting out of her words; he laughs as he does as ordered, and she carries the serving plates to the table. Once they’re sat beside each other, Claire hooks her foot around the back of his ankle - his body is still sleep-warm, and she refuses to not take advantage of being able to touch him whenever she wants.

“I’ll clean up,” he announces after the food is gone, and Claire doesn’t even bother putting up a token protest. She kisses his cheek then heads upstairs to get ready for the day.

Dinner is usually around four-thirty, or it was when she attended on a regular basis. Since starting the job as Niall’s personal assistant, her presence at her parents’ dining table has been sporadic. Rhiannon promised that the bakery is never open on Sundays anyway, so that’s taken away a lot of the uncertainty regarding whether Claire can make it to dinner or not.

Claire bites her lip, stifling her smile, when she hears Niall singing from the kitchen. Leaning against the frame of her door, she listens as he goes from one Eagles song to the next, the occasional Shawn Mendes thrown in. Something about the way he sings - as if he has not a care in the world, as if it’s the only thing he’ll ever find joy in - never ceases to astound her.

A soft laugh escapes her when his voice cracks on a particularly high note; she turns away from the doorway and heads to the closet. As much as she wants to stand there and revel in her feelings for him, the way he has changed her life, she has something important to get ready for.