Chapter 9 - THE MAN WHO LOVED CLARA WHEN CONRAD COULDN’TSimon Ward arrived in Boston carrying takeout soup.
Clara had a migraine.
Rose had called him.
Not Clara.
She found him standing in hallway outside apartment.
“You can’t keep letting her call adults.”
Simon smiled.
“She’s efficient.”
He was thirty-eight, an emergency physician at Massachusetts General, with kind brown eyes and the exhausted posture of someone who worked nights.
He had loved Clara.
Maybe still did in quiet way.
“You okay?”
“No.”
“I heard.”
“From?”
“Rose said her dad came back.”
Clara closed eyes.
“She says everything.”
“She’s five.”
“She’s CIA.”
Simon smiled.
Then serious.
“Is he safe?”
“Yes.”
“You sure?”
“I think.”
“That’s not yes.”
Clara looked.
“He didn’t do what I thought.”
Simon knew some of story, never names.
Clara finally told him Conrad Bellamy.
Simon went still.
“That Conrad?”
“Yes.”
“You were married to billionaire?”
“Please don’t.”
“I treated you to tacos for two years.”
She almost laughed.
“Those were good tacos.”
Simon entered only when invited.
He warmed soup.
Rose colored.
Domestic familiarity.
When Conrad arrived unexpectedly? He shouldn't intrude, but planned pick-up. He knocked at 6:30 for scheduled visit. Clara had forgotten Simon would still be there.
Door opened.
Conrad saw Simon.
Jealousy immediate.
Simon saw Conrad.
Recognition.
Rose shouted:
“Conrad!”
She ran.
Conrad smiled at daughter, then looked at Simon.
Clara said:
“Simon Ward.”
“Conrad Bellamy.”
Simon extended hand.
Conrad shook.
“Good to meet.”
Lie.
Simon nodded.
“You too.”
Another lie.
Rose looked delighted.
“Now everybody knows everybody.”
Clara almost laughed.
Conrad took Rose to science museum.
After, he returned.
Simon had left.
Conrad said:
“He seems comfortable here.”
Clara stiffened.
“Don’t.”
“I’m asking.”
“You’re not.”
Conrad exhaled.
“You’re right.”
He sat.
“It hurt.”
Clara looked.
“What?”
“Seeing him in your kitchen.”
“Knowing he knows where bowls are.”
She softened despite herself.
“You had Vivienne.”
“I know.”
“She lived with you.”
“Mostly.”
“Then you don’t get territorial.”
“I know.”
“Still hurt.”
Honesty.
Clara sat opposite.
“Simon was there when Rose had pneumonia.”
“He drove us at two in morning.”
“He sat outside bathroom when I had panic attack.”
“He loved me without knowing whole story.”
Conrad looked down.
“Why did you end?”
“I couldn’t say yes to future.”
“Because still married?”
“Partly.”
“Because me?”
“Partly.”
“Because fear?”
“Mostly.”
Conrad nodded.
“Do you want him back?”
“No.”
“Do you want me?”
Silence.
Too direct.
Clara stared.
“Conrad.”
“What?”
“You’re with Vivienne.”
“I don’t know if I am.”
“That is not romantic.”
“I’m not trying.”
She looked away.
Conrad continued:
“I need know whether part of me is chasing you because six years were stolen.”
“Or because I still love you.”
Clara’s heart accelerated.
“Don’t make me experiment.”
“I won’t.”
He stood.
At door she said:
“Conrad.”
He turned.
“I still dream about you.”
His face changed.
Clara continued quickly:
“That doesn’t mean I want marriage back.”
“Dreams are not plans.”
“No.”
“But it means you’re not only one confused.”
He nodded.
Then left.
That night Clara remembered their last vacation before disappearance.
Napa.
A storm.
Power outage.
They spent night with candles and too much wine.
Conrad kissed her against kitchen counter while rain hit windows.
She laughed because he knocked corkscrew onto floor.
They went to bed before dinner.
Adult marriage.
Messy.
Alive.
Those memories had not disappeared because she dated Simon.
Love can coexist with other love across time without reducing either.
Clara was learning that too.
Two days later Simon called.
“I think I should step back.”
“You already did.”
“More.”
“Why?”
“Because I still think if you decide Conrad is impossible, maybe you’ll remember me.”
Clara’s throat tightened.
“Simon.”
“That’s unfair to both.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t.”
“I stayed because I wanted to.”
He laughed softly.
“Maybe rich husband returning is my cue.”
“He is not returning.”
“Clara.”
She stopped.
Simon knew.
“You say his name differently.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“I spent two years hearing it without knowing who.”
“No, it isn’t.”
She cried after call.
Not because she wanted Simon back.
May you like
Because every honest choice hurt someone.
There was no version where truth left everyone untouched.
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