CHAPTER 6

Moving On

Eli woke to silence.

His head throbbed with the telltale ache of too much whiskey, and the morning light seared through the blinds, intensifying the pounding in his skull. As he turned to the other side of the bed, a chill ran through him. Clare's side was empty.

The sheets were neatly pulled up, as though she'd tried to erase the fact that she had been there at all. A cold knot tightened in his chest. He stared at the space, his hand brushing against the faint warmth that still lingered.

"Figures," he muttered under his breath, sitting up and running a hand through his hair.

He didn't blame her—not really. They'd both been a mess last night, a swirling storm of grief and old feelings, and he'd seen that same turmoil reflected in her eyes. But waking up alone still stung.

Eli stood, his muscles protesting, and shuffled toward the kitchen. He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and leaned against the counter, trying to piece together what he felt. Regret? Relief? He wasn't sure. All he knew was that the fragile thread connecting him to Clare had snapped again, and the emptiness left in its place was unbearable.

Clare sat in her car, gripping the steering wheel tightly as the city began to wake around her. She hadn't gone home right away. Instead, she had driven aimlessly, the streets a blur as her mind raced. She could still feel Eli's touch, the warmth of his hands on her skin, the way he had whispered her name like it was a lifeline. It was too much to process, too much to face.

The night had been a blur—a mix of passion, regret, and a deep sense of loss. She had slipped out of Eli's house before he even woke up, leaving without a word. It felt like the only way to escape what had happened, to pretend it hadn't happened at all. But as she sat there now, parked in the quiet of the early morning, she couldn't ignore the nagging feeling in her chest. It was as if she had stepped into something she couldn't control—a tangled web of emotions and memories that she wasn't sure how to untangle.

She had run away, just like she always did when things got hard. Adam's death had brought her back to a past she thought she had left behind, and now, she wasn't sure how to reconcile the life she had built with the memories that refused to stay buried.

She hadn't expected it to happen. Hell, she hadn't even seen it coming. But the moment their lips met in that park, all the years of pain and longing, of unresolved feelings, had come rushing back. And now, she was left with the aftermath—alone, confused, and haunted by the intimacy they had shared. There was no simple explanation for it, no easy way to put it all into words. All she knew was that she wasn't ready to face him. Not yet. Not after everything.

With a heavy sigh, Clare pushed open the door of her car and stepped out. The cold air hit her face like a slap, grounding her in reality. She needed to keep moving, needed to escape the suffocating thoughts in her mind. But as she walked to her hotel room, the weight of the night pressed down on her, heavy and unyielding.

When she walked into her hotel room, she expected to feel some relief. But it was as though the space was too small, too quiet, too full of ghosts. She kicked off her shoes and collapsed onto the couch, her mind racing. She had always thought she was over Eli, that their time together was long gone, buried under years of separation and painful memories. But now, everything felt different. She could still feel the warmth of his body next to hers, hear the rawness in his voice, feel the way his hands had moved over her as if they were reclaiming something lost. It was confusing, too much to process in the span of a few hours.

What was she supposed to do with this? With him? With herself?

Eli threw himself into his music, scribbling lyrics in messy notebooks and strumming chords on his guitar until his fingers ached. The songs weren't good—half-finished fragments of grief and anger—but they were something. A distraction.

At night, he drank to silence the noise in his head. Whiskey, beer, whatever he had on hand. It dulled the ache of Adam's absence and the lingering memory of Clare. He couldn't stop thinking about her—how she'd looked at him in the park, the way she'd whispered his name like a secret she didn't want to share.

He told himself it didn't matter. She'd left. Again.

But late at night, when the alcohol wasn't enough to drown the thoughts, he'd find himself staring at his phone, her name illuminated on the screen. He never called. What was the point?

Hell, he didn't know if her old number even worked anymore. Saved like a ghost haunting him since she left him.

The first few days after Clare returned home were a blur of routine tasks and forced normalcy. She threw herself into work at the publishing house, staying late to edit began with strong coffee and a determined effort to pretend everything was fine. She meticulously planned her days, filling every hour with something productive. Emails. Meetings. Deadlines. Anything to drown out the storm brewing inside her.

Yet, even as she worked, her mind drifted back to the night with Eli. She could still feel the warmth of his touch, hear the softness in his voice when he talked about Adam, and see the pain in his eyes that mirrored her own. The memories crept in when she least expected them—during a quiet moment at her desk, in the hum of traffic on her way home, or in the stillness of her apartment at night.

Her apartment felt suffocating now, its walls closing in as if they knew her secrets. The bed, once a place of comfort, was a reminder of everything she was trying to forget. She avoided it as much as possible, curling up on the couch instead with a blanket and an old movie playing softly in the background.

But even movies weren't the escape they used to be. A romantic scene would flash across the screen, and suddenly she was back in Eli's arms, his breath warm against her skin. She'd close her eyes, willing the memories to fade, but they never did.

Her friends noticed the change. Alli, ever the observant one, cornered her after a particularly awkward coffee date.

"Okay, spill," Alli demanded, crossing her arms as she leaned back in her chair. "You've been weird since you got back from the funeral."

"I'm fine," Clare lied, stirring her latte as if it held the answers to her problems.

"You're not fine," Alli pressed. "You're distracted, you've been dodging plans, and you're working late every night. That's not fine, Clare—that's classic avoidance."

Clare sighed, avoiding Alli's piercing gaze. "It's just been a lot, you know? Adam's death, seeing everyone again...it stirred up old memories."

Alli softened, her arms uncrossing as she leaned forward. "I get that. Losing someone like Adam…it's heavy. But you know you can talk to me, right? About any of it?"

Clare nodded, forcing a small smile. "I know. Thanks, Alli."

The words were genuine, but she still couldn't bring herself to tell her friend everything. Not yet. The weight of her night with Eli was too much to share.

Later that night, Clare found herself pulling out an old box of keepsakes she hadn't opened in years. Inside were photos, handwritten notes, and little trinkets from her high school days.

She found a picture of Adam, grinning from ear to ear, his arm slung around Drew's shoulder. The sight of his smile made her heart ache.

"I wish you were here," she whispered, tracing the edge of the photo with her finger. "You'd know what to say. You always did."

Tears welled in her eyes as she placed the photo on her nightstand. Adam had been the glue that held their group together, the one who could diffuse tension with a joke or offer heartfelt advice when it was needed most. Without him, everything felt fractured.

As the days turned into weeks, Clare couldn't ignore the changes in her body. The nausea came in waves, usually in the mornings but sometimes striking unexpectedly during the day. She found herself avoiding her usual coffee, the smell suddenly unbearable.

Her exhaustion grew, too, making it harder to keep up the façade of normalcy. She brushed it off at first, blaming stress and long work hours, but deep down, she knew there was more to it.

One evening, as she stood in her bathroom staring at her reflection, she pressed a hand to her stomach.

"What am I doing?" she whispered to herself.

The realization was both terrifying and undeniable. Her life wasn't normal anymore. It hadn't been since the funeral. And now, with everything that had happened, it might never be normal again.

Clare took a deep breath, willing herself to find some semblance of courage. She didn't have all the answers yet, but one thing was clear—she couldn't keep pretending everything was fine. Something had to change.

And soon.

Clare sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the small white box in her hands. The words on the packaging blurred as her heartbeat thundered in her ears. She had bought the pregnancy test from the pharmacy two blocks from her apartment, ducking into the store with her hood pulled tight and avoiding the cashier's eyes as she paid like she was some ashamed and afraid teenager, when in reality she was almost 28.

It had taken her two days to even open it.

Now, the test sat in her lap, its weight feeling heavier than it had any right to be. Her mind raced with a thousand scenarios, none of them offering the comfort she desperately needed.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered, her voice shaky. "It's probably nothing."

She didn't believe her own words. The symptoms had been building for weeks—the nausea, the exhaustion, the heightened sensitivity to smells. And the missed period. Clare was a lot of things, but she wasn't reckless about this kind of stuff.

She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply before pushing herself off the bed and walking into the bathroom. Her hand trembled as she unwrapped the test, following the instructions like she was assembling a bomb. The few minutes it took to take it felt like an eternity.

Once it was done, she placed the test on the counter and backed away, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. The directions said to wait three minutes, but Clare couldn't bear to look at the clock. Every second felt like it dragged on forever, the silence in the room amplifying her anxiety.

Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. She stepped forward and picked up the test, her breath catching in her throat as her eyes locked onto the result.

Two pink lines.

Her knees buckled, and she sank to the floor, the test still clutched in her hand. Pregnant. The word echoed in her mind, louder and louder until it drowned out everything else.

"No," she whispered, shaking her head as tears began to spill. "No, this can't be happening."

But it was. The evidence was right there, undeniable.

Her thoughts raced to Eli. His baby. There was no question about that. The timing lined up, and she hadn't been with anyone else in months.

But what did this mean? For her? For him? For the tangled mess of unresolved feelings and painful memories between them?

Clare's tears came harder, her sobs echoing in the small bathroom. She wasn't ready for this. She wasn't ready to be a mother, to have this kind of responsibility, to bring a child into a life that felt so uncertain and fractured.

She pulled her knees to her chest, curling into herself as the enormity of the situation overwhelmed her. Every fear, every doubt, every what-if crashed over her like a tidal wave.

After what felt like hours, Clare finally forced herself to stand. She splashed cold water on her face, trying to regain some semblance of control, but the woman staring back at her in the mirror looked just as lost and terrified as she felt.

She reached for her phone, hesitating for a moment, before sending a message to Jenna and Alli.

Clare: SOS

They replied almost immediately, both saying they were on their way. Old friends coming together with their old distress call. Maybe their friendship wasn't as old as clare thought.

When Jenna and Alli arrived, Clare didn't know where to start. She needed someone to talk to, someone who could tell her what to do, even if that wasn't possible. So she did what adam would do. Rip the bandage off.

"I—Okay. So…I'm pregnant," Clare said, her voice barely above a whisper. The words felt foreign coming out of her mouth, like she was speaking someone else's truth.

Jenna's face softened with concern. "Clare… Oh my God. Are you sure?"

Clare nodded, her throat tight. "I've taken three tests. I'm sure."

"Oh Woah." Alli processed. "Kc's?"

Clare shook her head. She had not seen KC since he showed up unannounced at the wake, and she most definitely did not sleep with him recently.

"It's Eli's isn't it?" Alli guessed.

Clare sunk into her couch, nodding her head and rubbing her temples.

Jenna sat beside her on the couch, pulling her into a tight hug. "We're here for you. Whatever you decide, we're here."

Clare's tears fell freely now, the weight of the secret she had been carrying breaking free. "I don't know what to do... I don't know if I can do this. Especially by myself." She cried, "I don't even know where to begin," Clare said, shaking her head. "What if he doesn't want this? What if he doesn't care? We haven't talked since Adam's funeral. I don't think we even have each others numbers anymore."

"Clare, stop," Alli interrupted, her tone firm but kind. "You're spiraling. This is a lot to process, I get that. But you can do it, you can do anything."

"I'm scared," Clare admitted, her voice breaking. "What if I ruin everything again? This is a whole life in my hand now."

"You're not ruining anything," Jenna reassured her. "This is life, Clare. It's messy and complicated, but you don't have to figure it out alone. You have me, and All-, Becky. Hell, a whole team of support."

"I've been so absent…"

"We've all had our own things. You weren't the only one who lost touch. It's not all on you." Alli continues.

Clare wiped her eyes, nodding, even though her heart was still heavy with uncertainty. She didn't know what the future would hold, or how Eli would react, but Jenna and Alli were right. She couldn't run anymore. She had to face this head-on, even if it scared her more than anything else in her life.

"I'll talk to him," Clare said softly, more to herself than to her friends. "I have to. But I don't know if I'm ready."

"You don't have to have all the answers right now," Alli said, squeezing her hand. "One step at a time. We're here for you. And when you're ready I can grab his number from Dallas."

Clare nods. And then silence filled the room for a beat.

"Okay. Now how exactly did you and Eli even end up making a baby?" Jenna wiggles her eyebrows. Moving the conversation to a lighter note.