Truth

That was fine, she thought, Phillip Roach can have fun figuring out why I’m suddenly so interested in news magazines.
    Starting the coffee maker for another high octane injection, she typed 1975, the year Rawls went public. She remembered a magazine article with a picture of Nathaniel and his family in front of a house like Tony’s. She wanted to find that picture, to verify – if only to herself -- that Tony was indeed Anton Rawls. If it wasn’t in Newsweek , she assumed it must be Time . She had an online subscription to that publication, too.
    Two hours later she found the picture with the house, Nathaniel, Sharron, Samuel, Amanda, and Anton. Claire couldn’t wait to show Harry. She’d tell him about Tony’s denial, and then show him the picture to validate her suspicions.
    Then Claire realized -- two hours. It was almost ten. Surely, Harry’s at SiJo by now. He hadn’t come over for coffee. Claire staggered at the sudden disappointment flowing through her. She hadn’t realized how much she enjoyed their morning chats, until now, when he didn’t show.
    There was no question; it was her fault. She’d been rude last night. Would she have ever treated Tony that way? The answer was no, not because she didn’t want to, but because he’d never have allowed it. Had she really spent half the night fantasizing about someone who dominated her entire life, including emotions and reactions, when there was a kind understanding man in real life?
    Claire went to the bedroom to find her phone. She wanted to send Harry a text, tell him she missed him this morning. Hopefully he’d respond, and maybe she could meet him for lunch.
    The screen indicated four missed calls. Picking up her Emily phone she had texts, one each from Emily and Courtney. They both wanted to be sure she was all right, after her dinner.
    Darn, she’d meant to call them last night. The whole evening just messed her up. She sent a text telling them she was fine and would talk to them, when they had time. Walking toward the kitchen, she added, I HAVE SOME NEW RELEVANT INFO TO SHARE!
    Honestly, she hadn’t checked her Tony phone. That could wait. She needed more time in the sunshine, without his voice and the darkness that swallowed her into its abyss. Smiling, she checked the iPhone. Two calls were from Amber; oh yeah, she’d forgotten to check in with her, too. One call was from Harry, no message. At least he called. She didn’t recognize the other number, no message.
    When almost to the kitchen she heard a knock at the door. Wow, Harry must be upset, if he is knocking . Claire didn’t care, as long as he was there. Smiling her biggest grin, she opened the door with a light hearted, “Did you forget your key?”
    Her heart stopped beating, and the air dissipated from her lungs. She wasn’t staring into Harry’s soft blue eyes, wavy blonde hair, or his SiJo fitted black shirt. No, it wasn’t his chest with the nicely stretched Under Armor across his wide pecs in front of her. This one was covered by an Armani tailored suit. Claire’s smile shattered, as dark eyes once again sent her world into a spiral. The axis which had taken her most of the night to correct was once again wobbling uncontrollably.
    Straightening her neck, she suddenly wished for shoes, preferably heels. It was a stupid wish. If a Genie had just given her three, it would be a waste. However, as he loomed, at least six and a half feet high in her doorway and she stood barefooted, she felt incredibly small. Claire didn’t like the sense of vulnerability rushing through her nervous system, sending off flares of panic at every synapse.
    His voice registered deep, “I don’t have a key, but I’d be glad to get one. Just tell me where to sign-up.” After so much time of evaluating his looks, eyes, movements, and voice, she immediately assessed: he sounds restrained, yet amused.
    She wanted to say, “Go to hell, and let me know when it turns cold – because, that’s when you can expect to receive a key!” However instead, she squared her shoulders and tried to display a small amount of decorum, “How did you get up here. You can’t be on this floor without a key.”
    He was still standing in the hallway. Claire held the edge of the door, ready to slam it, if necessary. “Perhaps you could invite me in, and we can discuss it?”
    “ Tony, why are you here?”
    He smirked, “If we’re playing one hundred questions, I admit defeat. May I come in?”
    Momentarily,