22. Caleb
TWENTY-TWO
Caleb
T he soft hum of the city outside barely penetrates the cozy bubble of Zoe’s studio apartment. We’re practically nestled together on her couch, the warmth of our bodies beneath us, and the smell of her vanilla candles mixed with something I can’t quite pinpoint — is it pumpkin? — fills the air.
I find myself entranced by the way the light dances off her features, casting gentle shadows across her innocent smile. She looks so adorable, so genuine, that the urge to lean in and kiss her has surged within me, a wave of desire I can’t ignore.
I told her, “You’re a beautiful girl, Zoe.”
She closed her eyes, ready for me, and whispered the sweetest thing, “Oh goodness!”
Now I’m all in, and I start to close the distance, but Ralphie, her mischievous cat, leaps onto my lap like a furry missile. His sharp claws sink into my thigh, jolting me back to reality and breaking the spell. “Whoa!” I yelp, shifting my weight as I try to dislodge him.
Zoe bursts into nervous laughter, her eyes sparkling with a mix of empathy and concern. “Oh no! I’m so sorry!” she exclaims, scooping Ralphie into her arms. “He’s been such a little monster lately!”
Smarting from the pain, I chuckle, rubbing my leg where her cat had attacked. “He’s got impeccable timing,” I say, trying to hide the disappointment that’s lingering in the air.
Once she’s settled Ralphie on the floor, Zoe turns to me, takes my hand, and leads me to her kitchen. I glance to her refrigerator, my gaze catching on a dozen or so photographs from moments in her life. People she cares about. I have nothing on my fridge back home but a grocery list.
Zoe touches my chin to draw my attention back to her. “It’s okay,” she says softly, voice barely above a whisper. “You can kiss me now.”
The words hang between us, heavy with potential. If I kiss her, I might want to take it further and her innocent confusion when I asked about her small bed, tells me she’s not been with many men.
Has she been with any?
I’m dying to know.
My heart races, caught between the thrill of her invitation and the caution that weighs on my mind. I lean in slightly, feeling the warmth radiate from her body. Our breath mingles. Hesitation grips me.
I want to kiss her. I really do. But our impending marriage is built on a financial deal for me, not romance. Can I allow myself to blur those lines?
“You want me to kiss you,” I begin, my voice thick with desire. “I?—”
She tilts her head, those big, angelic green eyes searching mine, and I can see the sincerity there. There’s a curiosity in her, a yearning that feels fragile. But I can’t shake the feeling that she’s still figuring things out, that this moment, while electrifying, is laced with naivety. And is she testing me? Dipping her toe in the water to see if she wants to go in? Would she break the engagement if things went…south?
“It’s not a simple thing,” I finally say, pulling back, my heart heavy. “We agreed this was a practical arrangement. I don’t want to muddy the waters.”
Her face falls, disappointment flickering across her features. “But I… thought you wanted to,” she murmurs, almost to herself.
“I do,” I admit, and I mean it. “But I don’t think it’s good for us right now. I feel like you’re just curious.”
“What do you mean?”
“When you really want me to kiss you — when it’s for real — then and only then I’ll do it. And I won’t want to stop there.”
Zoe nods slowly, her cheeks flushing a pretty pink. “I think I understand. At least, I’m trying to,” she replies, sadness in her voice tugging at my heart.
She’s almost too sweet. It’s a delicate dance we’re doing, and I feel tonight the stakes have risen. I want to protect her. From me? Maybe. I want to shield her from the complications that come with crossing that line. But as I look into her eyes, I can’t help but wonder if I’m also protecting myself from something I secretly crave.
“Let’s just take our time,” I suggest gently, reaching out to hold her hand. “We have all the time in the world.” Our fingers lace. “We don’t need to rush anything.”
She smiles faintly, a mix of understanding and disappointment.
“Okay,” Zoe says softly, her voice shaky, “I can wait.” Letting go of my hands she whispers, “I’m a little tired, Caleb.”
Knowing it’s her attempt to escape the awkwardness, I offer a quick and polite, “I should get going. We didn’t talk much about the wedding, though.”
“Maybe tomorrow?”
“How about I take you to lunch?” I rub my leg. “And Ralphie can stay here.”
This earns me a sweet laugh from my fiancé, and her eyes brighten. “I’m really sorry he did that!”
With meaning, I tell her, “Me too.”
Zoe gazes up at me, and gives a little nod. “If he hadn’t, maybe things would be different right now.”
“They’d be very different. But I think it’s…wise that we paused things.”
Seemingly unconvinced she offers a smile that doesn’t reach her beautiful eyes. “Yes…wise.”
As we transition into making plans for lunch tomorrow, I can’t help but stare at her. I know this arrangement is practical, but beneath the surface, there’s a bubbling tension that neither of us can ignore. And as much as I want to keep things simple, I can’t shake the feeling that our marriage of convenience might be on the brink of becoming something more complicated — something I’m not sure I’m ready for.
As she walks to the door, Zoe asks, “When is the retirement dinner again?”
“Saturday.”
She yelps, “What?!”
“I mentioned that.”
“I can’t meet you for lunch. Our wedding plans will have to wait. I’m so sorry, Caleb. I have a lot of work to do!”
“Do you want to come by the hotel and see the space he’s rented?”
“Yes,” she nods, fear in her eyes. “Yes! I must see the space. What time? Earlier the better.”
“Ten o’clock?”
Blinking rapidly as she considers it, Zoe hurries me to the door. “Yes, that’ll do just fine. Thank you. I’ll meet you in the front of the hotel, beside my flower arrangement at ten.”
“Perfect,” I reply.
“Uh huh,” she murmurs, mind clearly on the approaching event.
“Goodnight, Zoe.”
Opening the door, she practically shoos me out. “Drive safe, Caleb.” As the door closes I hear her muttering, “Saturday! How am I going to…”
I hesitate and, after a moment, I wrap on the door. She opens it, surprised.
“Hey beautiful.” I take her hand, bending to kiss it. Her skin smells sweet, and I linger before straightening to smile into her nervous eyes. “It’s going to work out.”
She throws herself into my arms, hugging me tightly. “Thank you for saying that! For the opportunity! For… all of it!”
We separate and I dip my chin in goodbye.
The door shuts, and off I go, smiling to myself. If I had to pick a complete stranger to marry, I think I picked the right one.