Chapter 6 - Whitman House DesignLater that afternoon, as the sun climbed higher and warmed the rocky shore, Claire finally opened up about what she had been doing during the months we had been apart.
We sat on the porch steps sharing a simple lunch of black coffee and fresh bread from the local bakery in town.
"When I left the penthouse," Claire said, watching a gull circle overhead, "I didn't have a plan. I just knew I couldn't breathe in that apartment anymore. I came up here because it was the only place where I remembered what it felt like to be proud of who I was."
"And Whitman House Design?" I asked gently.
A small, genuine smile touched the corners of her mouth—the first real smile I had seen from her in years. "I always loved architecture, Dominic. Back in college, before I met you, before I got swept up in the socialite circuit of your world, I wanted to restore historic coastal properties. I started small—redoing the interior of an old fisherman's cottage down the road. Word got out. Now I have a backlog of clients wanting me to renovate homes from Bar Harbor down to Portland."
"You built your own business," I said, a wave of profound pride washing over me, mixed with a sharp pang of regret that I hadn't been there to watch her do it.
"I did," she said, turning to look at me. "Without your money, without your name, and without your connections. For the first time in my adult life, my success belongs entirely to me. And that terrifies you, doesn't it?"
"It doesn't terrify me, Claire," I answered honestly. "It impresses me. It breaks my heart that I never gave you the space to become who you were meant to be, but it makes me prouder of you than anything I ever achieved in the corporate world."
She held my gaze for a long moment, reading the truth in my eyes. The last remaining wall between us seemed to tremble and crack.
May you like
"I have a client meeting in town tomorrow morning," Claire said softly. "An old Victorian needing a complete kitchen redesign. You're welcome to come along... if you think you can handle sitting quietly in a truck while someone else does the talking."
I let out a low, genuine laugh—the first time I had laughed without irony in months. "Try me. I think I can manage not running a corporate takeover of a kitchen remodel."
