Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Elisa
“ I am never drinking again,” I grumble to my reflection when I finally surface the following morning. My mouth feels like dusty mothballs are hibernating inside, and my stomach is queasy. After brushing my teeth and sloshing half a bottle of mouthwash, I take the longest shower in history, only getting out when my skin wrinkles to the point of no return.
I blow-dry my hair, apply some lip gloss and mascara, and get dressed, choosing my favorite black skirt with the yellow daisy pattern and a tight-fitting, white, long-sleeved top. I slide my feet into my trusty ballet flats, catching a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror as I leave my childhood bedroom. At least I look decent on the outside, even if I feel like shit on the inside.
“You look like you need this,” Mom says, handing me a mug of steaming coffee a few seconds after I step foot in the kitchen.
“I so do. Thanks.” Sliding onto a stool at the island unit, I watch Mom spooning mixture into the paper liners lining a muffin pan.
“Please tell me they’re your oatmeal muffins?” I ask as my nostrils twitch. Mom is the muffin queen, and this recipe is my favorite. They’re full of yummy goodness because Mom adds dates, cranberries, and pecans and it’s the perfect combo.
“One and the same.” She lifts her head, locking eyes with me. “I thought they might put a smile back on your face.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Stretching across the marble top, I kiss her on the cheek. “I’m going to work on your new logo today. I’ll send you some options to review in a few hours.”
“That would be great. I can’t wait to see what you design.”
Mom has a thriving human resource management consultancy business, but she hasn’t rebranded in years. Graphic design began as a hobby for me when I first started at NYU. I was hand-drawing my favorite scenes from romance books before digitally completing them, and I posted them on Insta for fun. I very quickly built a large following, which was exciting and cool, and then authors began reaching out asking if I was available for commissions, which was even more exciting and cool. It all snowballed from there, and now I have several loyal clients who give me tons of repeat business. My artwork is still super popular, but I also design book covers, interior illustrations, graphics, and I recently branched out into logo design.
It seemed natural to offer to help Mom when she mentioned she wanted to rebrand, but I’ve been so busy lately with paid work, classes, and studying that I haven’t had the time to finish the rough draft I started a couple of weeks ago. I might as well take advantage of my free Friday and get it done now.
“Have you given any more thought to what you want to do after you graduate?” she asks, sliding the two muffin pans into the oven.
“Yeah. I’ve been thinking about what we spoke about before.” I nibble on my lip before taking a sip of my coffee. “I think I’m going to do it. I’m going to officially set up a graphic design company and look to expand my clientele.”
Mom beams. “That is wonderful news.”
“You’re not sad I didn’t go the artist or art gallery route?” When I graduated high school, I chose to study art at NYU because those had been my dreams.
But my dreams have changed—in my career and my love life.
“We just want you to be happy, Elisa, and your passion for graphic design is obvious. You love it, and you’re too talented not to pursue it.”
“It’s a little scary though.”
“The best things usually are.” She reaches across the island unit to squeeze my hand. “I’m betting it’ll be a huge success, and we’ll be proud of you no matter what.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Tears prick my eyes. “You set the best example.”
“I remember feeling scared when I walked away from my job at Caltimore Holdings to go it alone. I was afraid of failing, but it was also exhilarating. Owning your own business is as enthralling and rewarding as it is challenging and scary. I’m here to help. Sierra will help too, and your grandma is a great person to speak to. She took back control of Lawson Pharma and completely transformed the organization. You have lots of people to lean on for support.”
“Lots of strong, independent, smart women. You are all so inspirational.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” a man with a deep voice says from behind, and all the tiny hairs lift on the back of my neck.
Mom glances at me briefly before fixing a smile on her face. “Caleb. It’s lovely to see you.”
“Sorry for barging in like this, Serena, but I need to speak to Lili.”
My heart jumps hearing my nickname spill from his lips. It has always made me feel so special, but now it’s hard to believe it was real.
“What if I don’t want to speak to you?” I swivel on my chair to face him.
He’s wearing the same clothes as last night, and in the bright light of day, he looks even more gorgeous. Like he just stepped off the catwalk or one of his notorious photoshoots. Why does he have to be so drop-dead gorgeous? Why do his big blue eyes ensnare me like I’m the most precious thing in his world? I even hate how his hair flicks over his brow in messy gloriousness like he styled it that way, when I know he most likely just ran his fingers through it this morning.
“You wouldn’t have shown up at my place if you didn’t want to talk.” He produces a bouquet of flowers from behind his back, holding them out to me. I recognize the sticker on the front. They’re from my favorite florist in town, and he’s chosen a pastel pink, peach, and white bouquet with roses, tulips, peonies, and a few lilies.
“Those are beautiful.” Mom smiles sadly as her gaze bounces between us, and I imagine she’s visualizing all the lost moments we might have shared if we’d ever become a couple.
“They are, but why are you giving me flowers?” I inquire, eyeballing him.
“Do I need a reason?”
“Yes. I’m not your girlfriend, and you don’t buy me random flowers, so why now?” I quirk a brow.
His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he peers deep into my eyes. “You were upset yesterday. It’s partly my fault, and I wanted to do something nice for you.” He shrugs. “There’s no big ulterior motive, Lili. It’s just a bunch of flowers.”
Mom is watching our interaction with avid interest, and I can almost hear her whispering in my ear how it’s a sweet gesture and to stop busting his balls. I’m still mad at him, but it is sweet. “Thank you. I appreciate the thought.” I bury my nose in the petals, inhaling the glorious scents.
“Could we go somewhere to talk in private?” His earnest eyes pin mine in place, and I stop breathing for a second.
“Sure.”
“I’ll put these in water,” Mom says, taking the bouquet from me.
“Let’s talk in the sunroom,” I suggest. “Would you like a coffee?”
“I can get my own.” He strides toward the large coffee machine and opens the overhead cupboard to remove a mug.
Mom smiles as we watch him make himself at home.
A few minutes later, we walk silently toward the sunroom at the rear of our house both nursing coffees and an abundance of unsaid words.
A sleepy-eyed Romeo emerges from the playroom, in sweats and a plain white tee, as we approach the sunroom. His scowl is instant when he sees Caleb. “Douche,” he mutters under his breath as we walk past, and I’m more than a little shocked. Romeo gallantly rose to my defense last night, and I assumed some of that bravery stemmed from the weed and alcohol in his system, but it seems I was wrong.
“Nice to see you too, Romeo,” Caleb says over a chuckle, holding the door to the sunroom open for me.
“Thank you for not making a big deal of last night,” I say, ducking into the room.
“I wouldn’t want anyone to get in trouble for protecting you. Romeo is a good brother.”
“He’s the best,” I agree, flopping down on one end of the couch. A surge of butterflies swoops into my chest and nerves fire at me from all directions. I guess we’re doing this, and I’m apprehensive now the moment is here.
Caleb sits at the other end, quietly watching me as he drinks his coffee. “I am sorry for whatever Anais said to upset you yesterday.”
I shrug, not wanting to regurgitate it.
He twists to the side so he’s facing me head on. “None of it was true. She’s concerned Cruz will discover she was spying on him and passing me intel. It’s a legit concern and being his wife won’t protect her. She needs someplace safe to hide out. That and The Commission would prefer to keep tabs on her. She’s our best chance at finding Cruz.”
“I get it.” I’ve had time to think about it since fleeing the penthouse. There has always been an ulterior motive behind Caleb being with her, so I figured there was a reason now.
“She’s not living with me, and we’re not together. I have been staying at Joshua and Gia’s place the past few days while Anais stayed at mine. She’s moving into an apartment on the floor below today.”
His words help, but only a little. “Why have you stayed with her all these years, Caleb? I understand she was revenge for Bettina, but it can’t be that after all this time.”
Air expels from his mouth, and his gaze is pensive as he eyeballs me while considering his reply. “It’s hard to explain. Even to myself. At first, I got a kick out of screwing Cruz over, and then it was convenient. I had an itch; she scratched it.”
I don’t know what expression he sees on my face, but it’s enough for his features to soften. He scoots down a little closer. “I have never cared about her the way I care about you, Lili. She’s toxic. We’re toxic together, and she brings out a streak in me I liked indulging for a while. It was only when she moved to Vegas that I realized how much of a destructive force she was in my life. I have only been with her a handful of times in these intervening years and only recently because The Commission needed me to use her.”
“I should probably feel bad for her because it’s not nice to be used. But there’s no part of me that could ever feel bad for Anais DiPietro. She’s poison, and she’s loved rubbing my nose in it any chance she gets.”
His brow puckers. “What do you mean?”
“It doesn’t matter now. It’s water under the bridge.” I gulp a mouthful of my drink.
Caleb is still frowning. “It matters to me.”
I bark out a bitter laugh. “Why?”
“What do you mean why ?”
“You’ve made it clear I don’t matter, so who cares if she’s been giving me shit for years?”
“Of course, you matter!” He slams his mug down on the coffee table. “I know we don’t have the relationship you hoped we’d have, but it doesn’t mean I don’t care for you deeply, Lili, because I do. I truly do.” Sincerity bleeds from his eyes, but I’m not sure I believe it.
“If you really meant that, you wouldn’t have broken your promise to me.”
“I didn’t. I haven’t.” He exhales heavily, clawing a hand through his messy dark-blond hair. “You need to tell me why you believe I have.”
A shaky breath flees my lips, and my fingers tremble around my mug. I briefly close my eyes.
“Lili, please.” Caleb takes my free hand in his, and my eyes pop open.
Fiery tingles skate over my hand and up my arm, and I yank it back. He doesn’t get to touch me at will. He lost that privilege when he broke my heart. And why don’t I feel all tingly when Seb holds my hand? It would solve all my problems if I did. Draining the last of my coffee, I place the mug on the table and draw a brave breath. “You know what you did, Caleb.”
He vigorously shakes his head. “I don’t. It’s been killing me for months, and I’ve wracked my brain trying to find the reason, but I have not slept with any NYU students. I promised you I wouldn’t do that, and I have kept my promise.”
Tears flood my eyes as that horrible video resurfaces in my mind’s eye. I squeeze my eyes shut, attempting to erase the image, but it refuses to disappear.
“But you didn’t, Caleb. You didn’t.” Sadness shrouds me as I open my eyes and finally confront the issue. I knot my hands in my lap as bile swims up my throat. “You had a foursome with three girls from my college. One of the girls has spent years tormenting me, and she loved showing me the proof she’d had sex with you.”