So Long
thirty-one.
“Please tell me my dad and brother didn’t say anything embarrassing while I was in the kitchen,” Claire pleads on the drive home.
Niall laughs softly, reaching across the centre console for her hand. “Nah, nothing embarrassing, I promise. All TJ said was that he’s incredibly glad that you’re happy.”
“Well, I guess it coulda been worse.” She sighs and leans back further in her seat. “Although I could have lived without my dad threatening to get the hose.”
““Yeah, that wasn’t a very pleasant moment for me, either.”
“Oh, I know. I don’t think I’ve ever seen your face turn that red that quickly.”
Claire is surprised when Niall doesn’t immediately get out of the car once he’s put it in park. She unbuckles and turns to face him, stilling when she sees the expression on his face. The shadows stretch miles between them; he lets out a soft sigh then looks over at her.
“Did… I have to ask, and please be honest, okay?” At her hesitant nod, he dips his chin sharply as if it’s a silent pep talk to himself. “Did you tell me you love me because of your conversation with your ex the other day?”
Her jaw drops, and she rushes to assure him that Warren had nothing to do with it. “I swear, the way I feel about you is not affected in any shape or form by a conversation with my ex-boyfriend. I, I realised I love you shortly after you let me move in. I just… said it out loud tonight. On accident.”
“What?”
“I didn’t mean to say it aloud. I honestly just thought I thought it.”
“Wow.” He chuckles, though there’s no malice in the sound. “Can’t say I’ve ever been part of an accidental declaration of love.”
“If it means anything, I meant it!”
He stares at her through the semi-dark then shakes his head, another huff of laughter escaping. She pushes open the door and steps out of the vehicle; their hands find each other as they make their way up the walk, and Claire’s head spins with the knowledge that he loves her. He loves her. She chews on her lower lip, but it does nothing to quell the giggle.
“What’s so funny?”
She toes off her flats just inside the doorway before turning to face him. “Nothing, really. I just never could’ve dreamed that this would be my life.”
“Is it a good thing?”
“The best thing.” Pressing her thumb gently to his chin, she gives him a soft kiss, one that causes her blood to run hot, then steps back. “I’m going to go change. Uh, do you think we have time for a movie tonight?”
“Hmm… we might, if you sleep in my room.”
“As if I’d sleep anywhere else after today. Okay, I’ll meet you there when I’m done.”
Claire rushes through removing her makeup, brushing her teeth, and untwisting her hair from the braid she put it in earlier. Her heart hammers in her chest as she quickly strips and changes into one of her favourite pairs of pyjamas; they aren’t quite as comfortable as her Eeyore ones, but they’re definitely second-best. She can’t think of anything else but Niall as she drops her dirty clothes into the hamper, padding across the hall to Niall’s bedroom.
He is already lounging in his bed, propped up by his pillows as he scrolls through whatever social media he chose to bide his time with. He looks up when she pushes the door closed behind her, and something settles in her gut when he immediately sets his phone aside. She grabs the TV remote from his nightstand before crawling over him. His hands come up to rest on her waist, ostensibly to keep her steady as she clambers her way across the bed, but the touch certainly brings less-than-pure thoughts to her mind.
“Am I the coffee or the doughnut?” he asks once she’s settled in next to him.
She glances down at the design on her tank-top - an anthropomorphic doughnut and to-go coffee cup, with the words we belong together! - then replies without hesitation, “The doughnut. You’re sweet.”
“Your coffee practically amounts to little more than liquid dessert,” he says with a snort, laughing when she pokes his bicep. “I’m just saying, your coffee is sweeter than a doughnut, so you can’t exactly use the logic of I’m ‘sweet’ to make me the doughnut.”
“Can we just watch a damn movie?” she whines, but it’s cut off by the kiss that lands on her lips.
Thankfully, Niall doesn’t say anything else, merely settles back while she logs into her Amazon Prime account. His brows furrow when the movie begins playing; she curls up against him and waits for the glorious cinematic performance of the incomparable Robin Williams as an android. Knowing he most likely hasn’t seen Bicentennial Man, Claire warns Niall that the movie is somewhat of a slow one, but promises it’s worth it.
“What do they say?” Rupert Burns asks on-screen, and Claire drags her gaze away from the television to watch how Niall reacts to the dialogue; this scene has always been her favourite, even when she was a child and understood none of the poignancy or weight. Now that she’s an adult, though, she comprehends far more.
Andrew Martin responds, “That you can lose yourself. Everything. All boundaries. All time. That two bodies can become so mixed up, that you don’t know who’s who or what’s what. And just when the sweet confusion is so intense you think you’re gonna die… you kind of do. Leaving you alone in your separate body, but the one you love is still there. That’s a miracle. You can go to heaven and come back alive. You can go back anytime you want with the one you love.”
“And you want to experience that?”
“Oh, yes, please,” replies Andrew, Claire mouthing along to the actor’s line.
Niall gingerly picks up the remote from where it rests on his thigh, pausing the film, and there’s something in his expressive blue eyes that she can’t read. Even with no words spoken, Claire can tell something has changed, shifted between them. Lines have been smudged out of existence, and if she takes the step forward, there will be no going back. The jump is one-way only.
So she does what every molecule of her being is screaming for her to do: She inches closer to the ledge and - with no parachute to slow her down, nothing tethering her to this moment of solid ground - she lets herself fall into the heavens waiting below.
"Hey, Rhi."
"Morning. Afternoon. Whatever time it is. Oh, can you check and see if we have another box of wax paper slips in the back? This one is almost empty.”
Claire washes her hands and does as asked. There are seven more boxes on the shelf, and she grabs two then makes her way back out to the main part of the bakery. Setting them on the counter, she steps around her friend to grab a pair of disposable gloves. The two women work in silence, transferring pastries from the baking sheets to display trays. Rhiannon stacks the sheets and turns to go back to the kitchen.
“I told Niall I love him.”
“And that’s my cue to stay right here.” Rhiannon puts the baking sheets onto the counter, props a hip against the glass. “Details, woman.”
So Claire tells Rhi about the family dinner, about how charmed her parents were by Niall and even Tim welcoming the other man into the fold. She admits that telling Niall she loves him was an accidental sort of thing, completely unexpected for the both of them, and her recounting is interrupted by Rhiannon’s outbursting of laughter.
“You - you’re telling me that he only knows that you love him because you blurted it out like an awkward fuck?”
“Shut up, it’s not funny!” Claire slides the tray of cookies onto the rack inside the display case. “I could’ve really fucked it all up by saying ‘I love you’ so early.”
“And texting your ex about your current relationship wouldn’t have?” Rhiannon shrugs when Claire shoots her a confused look, sighing and making her way to the coffeemaker. “I kinda overheard Niall talking to Lou the other day. Nialler was afraid that you were trying to find a way of letting him down easily. I mean, he said you two talked about it and that you told him you had no doubts, but… he was still worried.”
Claire takes the cup that Rhi offers, sips at the hot coffee. She’s not entirely sure how she feels about the fact that Niall went to his friend for reassurance, but on the other hand, she can’t exactly be upset - she went to her ex-boyfriend for the exact same reason. So she swallows the knee-jerk reaction of hurt that he doesn’t trust her, swallows down another mouthful of coffee, and gets to work.
Claire represses a sigh and tries her damnedest to keep her ‘customer service’ smile on her face. The group has been stood in front of the display case for the last ten minutes, mumbling amongst themselves in disjointed sentences that seem to make sense to only them. She wouldn’t normally mind having customers, but it’s nearly two-thirty in the morning. Her feet and back are aching, and she’s exhausted.
Finally, finally, the cluster of young adults point lazily to what pastries they want, and Claire doesn’t bother boxing them up, just grabs the treats from the display using the wax paper and passes them over the counter. She almost worries the customers will leave without paying, but to her surprise, one of the girls seems in the right mind enough to drop three twenties on the countertop before shuffling out with her friends, a group of living zombies munching on homemade pastries.
Claire hurries to lock the door behind them and turns off the neon Open sign. She rings up the pastries then gapes at the difference between total cost and change - almost twenty-five dollars. She counts out the bills, dividing them equally into two piles; twelve for Rhiannon, twelve for herself. As she closes out the till, she makes sure there aren’t any mislaid receipts on the counter before pulling the drawer and tucking it under the shelf out of sight.
She’s just finished wiping down the front of the display case when something occurs to her. Claire tucks the cloth into the waistband of her apron and strolls to the kitchen where Rhi is currently putting away the rest of the clean dishware. The other woman raises a brow once she catches sight of Claire in the doorway.
“What’s up, buttercup?”
“Is that why your bakery is called Baked to Perfection?”
Rhiannon laughs and wipes her hands on a dishtowel. “What can I say, we’re the Taco Bell of bakeries. You got the munchies, we got the cure.” She hesitates, her gaze darting to Claire’s face. “Have you seriously never encountered our… green clientele?”
“If I have, I’ve never noticed, I guess.” Claire shrugs awkwardly, and Rhiannon laughs even harder than before.
“Wow, you are incredibly unobservant.”
Claire can feel the heat in her face, burning red in her cheeks and screaming her embarrassment. “Oh, fuck off.”
Rhiannon’s giggles follow her out into the main lobby, and Claire can’t help but chuckle, too. The hours make sense now. And if she thinks about it, she can recall a few obviously-not-sober customers over the last week, especially in the late hours of the night. Claire shakes her head at herself, shouting Stop laughing at me, asshole! over her shoulder as she goes back to her closing duties.
Niall laughs softly, reaching across the centre console for her hand. “Nah, nothing embarrassing, I promise. All TJ said was that he’s incredibly glad that you’re happy.”
“Well, I guess it coulda been worse.” She sighs and leans back further in her seat. “Although I could have lived without my dad threatening to get the hose.”
““Yeah, that wasn’t a very pleasant moment for me, either.”
“Oh, I know. I don’t think I’ve ever seen your face turn that red that quickly.”
Claire is surprised when Niall doesn’t immediately get out of the car once he’s put it in park. She unbuckles and turns to face him, stilling when she sees the expression on his face. The shadows stretch miles between them; he lets out a soft sigh then looks over at her.
“Did… I have to ask, and please be honest, okay?” At her hesitant nod, he dips his chin sharply as if it’s a silent pep talk to himself. “Did you tell me you love me because of your conversation with your ex the other day?”
Her jaw drops, and she rushes to assure him that Warren had nothing to do with it. “I swear, the way I feel about you is not affected in any shape or form by a conversation with my ex-boyfriend. I, I realised I love you shortly after you let me move in. I just… said it out loud tonight. On accident.”
“What?”
“I didn’t mean to say it aloud. I honestly just thought I thought it.”
“Wow.” He chuckles, though there’s no malice in the sound. “Can’t say I’ve ever been part of an accidental declaration of love.”
“If it means anything, I meant it!”
He stares at her through the semi-dark then shakes his head, another huff of laughter escaping. She pushes open the door and steps out of the vehicle; their hands find each other as they make their way up the walk, and Claire’s head spins with the knowledge that he loves her. He loves her. She chews on her lower lip, but it does nothing to quell the giggle.
“What’s so funny?”
She toes off her flats just inside the doorway before turning to face him. “Nothing, really. I just never could’ve dreamed that this would be my life.”
“Is it a good thing?”
“The best thing.” Pressing her thumb gently to his chin, she gives him a soft kiss, one that causes her blood to run hot, then steps back. “I’m going to go change. Uh, do you think we have time for a movie tonight?”
“Hmm… we might, if you sleep in my room.”
“As if I’d sleep anywhere else after today. Okay, I’ll meet you there when I’m done.”
Claire rushes through removing her makeup, brushing her teeth, and untwisting her hair from the braid she put it in earlier. Her heart hammers in her chest as she quickly strips and changes into one of her favourite pairs of pyjamas; they aren’t quite as comfortable as her Eeyore ones, but they’re definitely second-best. She can’t think of anything else but Niall as she drops her dirty clothes into the hamper, padding across the hall to Niall’s bedroom.
He is already lounging in his bed, propped up by his pillows as he scrolls through whatever social media he chose to bide his time with. He looks up when she pushes the door closed behind her, and something settles in her gut when he immediately sets his phone aside. She grabs the TV remote from his nightstand before crawling over him. His hands come up to rest on her waist, ostensibly to keep her steady as she clambers her way across the bed, but the touch certainly brings less-than-pure thoughts to her mind.
“Am I the coffee or the doughnut?” he asks once she’s settled in next to him.
She glances down at the design on her tank-top - an anthropomorphic doughnut and to-go coffee cup, with the words we belong together! - then replies without hesitation, “The doughnut. You’re sweet.”
“Your coffee practically amounts to little more than liquid dessert,” he says with a snort, laughing when she pokes his bicep. “I’m just saying, your coffee is sweeter than a doughnut, so you can’t exactly use the logic of I’m ‘sweet’ to make me the doughnut.”
“Can we just watch a damn movie?” she whines, but it’s cut off by the kiss that lands on her lips.
Thankfully, Niall doesn’t say anything else, merely settles back while she logs into her Amazon Prime account. His brows furrow when the movie begins playing; she curls up against him and waits for the glorious cinematic performance of the incomparable Robin Williams as an android. Knowing he most likely hasn’t seen Bicentennial Man, Claire warns Niall that the movie is somewhat of a slow one, but promises it’s worth it.
“What do they say?” Rupert Burns asks on-screen, and Claire drags her gaze away from the television to watch how Niall reacts to the dialogue; this scene has always been her favourite, even when she was a child and understood none of the poignancy or weight. Now that she’s an adult, though, she comprehends far more.
Andrew Martin responds, “That you can lose yourself. Everything. All boundaries. All time. That two bodies can become so mixed up, that you don’t know who’s who or what’s what. And just when the sweet confusion is so intense you think you’re gonna die… you kind of do. Leaving you alone in your separate body, but the one you love is still there. That’s a miracle. You can go to heaven and come back alive. You can go back anytime you want with the one you love.”
“And you want to experience that?”
“Oh, yes, please,” replies Andrew, Claire mouthing along to the actor’s line.
Niall gingerly picks up the remote from where it rests on his thigh, pausing the film, and there’s something in his expressive blue eyes that she can’t read. Even with no words spoken, Claire can tell something has changed, shifted between them. Lines have been smudged out of existence, and if she takes the step forward, there will be no going back. The jump is one-way only.
So she does what every molecule of her being is screaming for her to do: She inches closer to the ledge and - with no parachute to slow her down, nothing tethering her to this moment of solid ground - she lets herself fall into the heavens waiting below.
[-_-_-_-]
"Hey, Rhi."
"Morning. Afternoon. Whatever time it is. Oh, can you check and see if we have another box of wax paper slips in the back? This one is almost empty.”
Claire washes her hands and does as asked. There are seven more boxes on the shelf, and she grabs two then makes her way back out to the main part of the bakery. Setting them on the counter, she steps around her friend to grab a pair of disposable gloves. The two women work in silence, transferring pastries from the baking sheets to display trays. Rhiannon stacks the sheets and turns to go back to the kitchen.
“I told Niall I love him.”
“And that’s my cue to stay right here.” Rhiannon puts the baking sheets onto the counter, props a hip against the glass. “Details, woman.”
So Claire tells Rhi about the family dinner, about how charmed her parents were by Niall and even Tim welcoming the other man into the fold. She admits that telling Niall she loves him was an accidental sort of thing, completely unexpected for the both of them, and her recounting is interrupted by Rhiannon’s outbursting of laughter.
“You - you’re telling me that he only knows that you love him because you blurted it out like an awkward fuck?”
“Shut up, it’s not funny!” Claire slides the tray of cookies onto the rack inside the display case. “I could’ve really fucked it all up by saying ‘I love you’ so early.”
“And texting your ex about your current relationship wouldn’t have?” Rhiannon shrugs when Claire shoots her a confused look, sighing and making her way to the coffeemaker. “I kinda overheard Niall talking to Lou the other day. Nialler was afraid that you were trying to find a way of letting him down easily. I mean, he said you two talked about it and that you told him you had no doubts, but… he was still worried.”
Claire takes the cup that Rhi offers, sips at the hot coffee. She’s not entirely sure how she feels about the fact that Niall went to his friend for reassurance, but on the other hand, she can’t exactly be upset - she went to her ex-boyfriend for the exact same reason. So she swallows the knee-jerk reaction of hurt that he doesn’t trust her, swallows down another mouthful of coffee, and gets to work.
Claire represses a sigh and tries her damnedest to keep her ‘customer service’ smile on her face. The group has been stood in front of the display case for the last ten minutes, mumbling amongst themselves in disjointed sentences that seem to make sense to only them. She wouldn’t normally mind having customers, but it’s nearly two-thirty in the morning. Her feet and back are aching, and she’s exhausted.
Finally, finally, the cluster of young adults point lazily to what pastries they want, and Claire doesn’t bother boxing them up, just grabs the treats from the display using the wax paper and passes them over the counter. She almost worries the customers will leave without paying, but to her surprise, one of the girls seems in the right mind enough to drop three twenties on the countertop before shuffling out with her friends, a group of living zombies munching on homemade pastries.
Claire hurries to lock the door behind them and turns off the neon Open sign. She rings up the pastries then gapes at the difference between total cost and change - almost twenty-five dollars. She counts out the bills, dividing them equally into two piles; twelve for Rhiannon, twelve for herself. As she closes out the till, she makes sure there aren’t any mislaid receipts on the counter before pulling the drawer and tucking it under the shelf out of sight.
She’s just finished wiping down the front of the display case when something occurs to her. Claire tucks the cloth into the waistband of her apron and strolls to the kitchen where Rhi is currently putting away the rest of the clean dishware. The other woman raises a brow once she catches sight of Claire in the doorway.
“What’s up, buttercup?”
“Is that why your bakery is called Baked to Perfection?”
Rhiannon laughs and wipes her hands on a dishtowel. “What can I say, we’re the Taco Bell of bakeries. You got the munchies, we got the cure.” She hesitates, her gaze darting to Claire’s face. “Have you seriously never encountered our… green clientele?”
“If I have, I’ve never noticed, I guess.” Claire shrugs awkwardly, and Rhiannon laughs even harder than before.
“Wow, you are incredibly unobservant.”
Claire can feel the heat in her face, burning red in her cheeks and screaming her embarrassment. “Oh, fuck off.”
Rhiannon’s giggles follow her out into the main lobby, and Claire can’t help but chuckle, too. The hours make sense now. And if she thinks about it, she can recall a few obviously-not-sober customers over the last week, especially in the late hours of the night. Claire shakes her head at herself, shouting Stop laughing at me, asshole! over her shoulder as she goes back to her closing duties.