What's Left of Our Hearts

Three Truths

The last thing Clara expected to see on this trip—or ever again for that matter—was the only man she'd ever thought of as real love.

She and Eric entered the lobby to find Sophie orchestrating what looked like a military drill with the hotel staff. Standing next to her mound of luggage, she looked even more petite than she was already. With short, straight hair framing cherub-like features she could easily pass for a tiny Chinese fairy until she opened her mouth and sent everyone into a frenzy to accommodate her every request.

Eric and Clara looked on in amusement, standing together as they arrived, but Sophie did not notice them. She was now helping the cruise coordinator get their group organized, waving a half-eaten muffin with one hand, rubbing her temple with the other.

"What do you think, should I get my wife an executive assistant for Christmas?" Eric said to Clara with a wicked grin, loudly enough for Sophie to hear. "I think she would be thrilled to have someone to boss around 24/7."

"You forget, that's my role," Clara snickered.

Sophie turned on them, hands on hips. "The only thing I would be thrilled about right now is not having to explain to the captain we're late because of my husband's witty quips," she retorted, "who is not as witty as he thinks."

"Don't look at me," Clara said, hands raised in surrender. "I can't help you. She's my boss."

Eric laughed heartily as he located his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. He had a booming voice that could not be dialed down. "I think even the captain knows by now that my wife has excellent time management skills and would never allow such a thing to happen."

Clara smiles to herself, pleased that she joined her friends on this cruise. It was just what the doctor ordered, and she couldn't have asked for better travel companions than these two goofballs. Sophie was her friend first and boss second, and it was a small wonder they'd managed to keep their friendship intact after so many years of working together.

She walked over to park her carry-on onto an open bellboy, and the next thing she knew, she was looking at a face that haunted her memories.

Her thoughts became a scramble of, What? How? Can it be? but there was no mistaking him, not for anyone else in the world.

His face was slimmer, the edges sharpened with age. That tousled hair that once upon a time Clara would run her fingers through had been trimmed to a neat, professional style. The eyes, however, aquatic-blue that took her breath away, well, they still very much took her breath away.

She blinked once, twice, and he was still standing there. Definitely not a figment of her imagination, then.

God, it's been so many years.

There was no avoiding it, memories flooded her like a dam shattered upon impact with an asteroid. They burst like waves of hot and cold through her body. She knew right then that if she didn't get away from him, she would either shatter or run straight into his arms, and she wasn't sure which was worse. Time stopped while she strode towards Eric and Sophie who were entirely oblivious to the storm happening inside her. She glanced back, and he was still heading in her direction. What could she say to him? Could she even trust her voice to speak in this moment? Surely not, because some prickly object had found its way into her throat and lodged there, choking her. Blinking became harder, as each blink was a flash of days spent in his embrace. They burned inside her eyelids like someone had pressed a fast-forward button and she couldn't hit stop.

We were so young, just two kids who found each other and thought they were in love. It wasn't real, she tried to remind herself, but the argument did not stick well when faced with Dominic in flesh and blood. The stories she'd told herself were like wallpaper that kept sliding off the walls in raggedy pieces. He'd always said she was a terrible liar. And he had known her so, so well. Cutting him out of her life nearly destroyed her, and Clara was more than aware he was devastated to lose what they had, as much as she hated to admit it.

After, Clara recalled, she had thrown out every single possession that reminded her of him: every gift he had given her, every photo, and every trinket that meant something like they were all cursed. But she kept one photo, lost on the bottom of a box full of things that her heart needed to stay tethered to her soul. He was younger in that photo, and happier. They were happier. The man—not boy—in front of her looked every bit the good-looking devil she thought he'd become one day. He had changed some but Clara still recognized every single line on his handsome face.

He was mere feet away, and Clara's breath hitched at the proximity.

"Besides, even if we were to be late, we'll just blame it on my better half," Eric's voice came breaking through the chaos going on inside Clara's mind. "The captain won't have a problem with it because my wife is absolutely gorgeous and we all know he can't keep his eyes off of her. And I can't blame him," he winked at Clara conspicuously while Sophie pretended to ignore him.

Clara had forgotten about the world in which Sophie and Eric were with her, and barely managed a nod and a quick glance, afraid that if she removed her gaze from the ghost of her past, he would disappear. Dominic, however, looked as if he would be sick all of the sudden. His eyebrows pinched and his jaw tightened, a vein visibly pulsing on the side of his neck. He heard Eric, she realized with a start. He thinks it's me Eric is talking about. Had he also seen Eric with his arm around Clara? He must have.

In that moment, Clara knew three truths.

Dominic was not over her.

Hurting him again devastated her.

And walking away from him for the second time would be more than she could bear.

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