33. Celeste
Chapter 33
Celeste
M y hands clench his shirt like my life depends on it. Somewhere on the periphery of my fraught mind, I understand we have so much to talk about, so much to address, so much to apologize for.
But his declaration, his willingness to take the leap, overwhelms my senses, and I can’t use my words. I can’t find my voice. I can’t formulate my fears and hopes into sentences.
Instead, I pull him to me and crush my lips against his, answering him with my affection. He startles, but doesn’t hesitate for too long, accepting my kiss with passion and desire.
My sensitive pussy rubs against his thigh, lighting up little fires all over my body. Caleb groans into my mouth, one hand still tugging on my hair, the other finding my breast.
He scared me today with his display of possessiveness. He hurt me with his words of jealousy. He shocked me with his passionate admission.
But all of that is inconsequential. It’s solvable. It’s better than the game we’ve been playing.
Raw. Honest. Fiery.
That’s what our kiss is, and that’s what the argument leading to it was.
And while all the unanswered questions are still crying for attention, it’s the closeness and the need to feel rather than understand that wins.
I yank at his shirt, but he grips my wrist. He pulls away from my face, but stays close.
Our gazes collide, and the world around us finds a break from its endless flow.
My breath hitches as I take in the breath he exhaled. In this beat of eternity right now, it’s just us.
Two souls scared and courageous.
Two hearts hurting and soaring.
Two people falling.
The gentle, almost shy adoration in his eyes matches all I feel. The crease on his forehead mirrors all my hesitations. The subtle grin ghosting his lips tugs at the corners of my mouth .
He lowers his forehead to mine and traces my cheek with his knuckles. “Let’s go home.”
Weaving his fingers through mine, he steps back. I whimper, bereft of his touch, but know that a quickie in my changing room would set our relationship—no longer arrangement—back.
“Let’s go home.” I nod.
Caleb doesn’t speak as he waits for me to gather my things. The theater is closed today, so we’re probably the only two people here—
“What happened to Leon?” I shudder, recalling his touch.
“Who is Leon?” Caleb opens the door for me, and we leave the room, heading toward the back exit.
“The man you threatened moments ago. My choreographer.”
“I fired him.”
I stop, unsure how I feel about that. Leon touched me inappropriately, but I’m sure he’d have taken the hint if I’d had a chance to tell him to stay away.
There’s also a pathetic girl in me with a distorted notion that Caleb’s actions are romantic.
The grown-up me wants to make the point about not needing his saving.
The newly-in-a-real-relationship me decides there will be other battles to pick.
“I don’t know how I feel about you being my boss,” I say as we get to the car. “Hello, Peter.” I smile at the driver and get inside.
“I’ve been your boss’s boss for a year, and you didn’t seem to mind.” Caleb slides inside, wraps his arm around my shoulder and tugs me to him.
Like we’ve been doing this forever. Like we fit perfectly, and we know it. Like this is our new norm.
“For a year?” I turn my face to him.
I don’t know what to do with this information, but he doesn’t seem disturbed by any of it. “Yes, I got the theater last year when you needed the visa.”
I blink a few times, our faces only inches away. “I couldn’t get a job, so you bought me one? That must have cost you a fortune. And you didn’t even like me back then.”
He chuckles and kisses my forehead. “It worked out well.” The nonchalance in his voice is infuriating.
“No wonder Reinhard hates me.”
“That has nothing to do with me.”
“A clear case of nepotism.”
“You were not my wife back then, and you’ve more than proved yourself since. Frankly, that theater was barely surviving before you got on board. As far as I’m concerned, it was an excellent investment.”
I shake my head and rest it on his shoulder. “You have been paying my paycheck for a year. That’s—”
“Celeste,” he growls. “Stop spinning that smart brain of yours. I bought a theater, it’s profitable now, no regrets there. You benefited, and back then it was easier than marrying you.”
I jerk away. “I’m still your wife.”
“Only because Reinhard is incompetent,” he deadpans.
I gasp, but he laughs.
“He’s incompetent, but his fuck-up got me the most beautiful, smart, accomplished, annoying, headstrong, stubborn wife. Not complaining in the slightest.”
God, I love this man.
Shit, I love this man.
But maybe it’s safe to love him.
“It’s a good thing I didn’t buy that airplane. You’d be ruined.”
He laughs. “Fuck it. I’m buying you that airplane.”
Three hours later, we’re still stuck in the car.
“We could have just walked,” I mumble, even though my legs and feet are sore from rehearsal.
“I’m sure it can’t take much longer.” Caleb squeezes my hand. He hits the intercom. “Peter, any news?”
“According to the radio, the accident included several cars and pedestrians. We’re stuck in a sea of traffic with nowhere to divert.”
“Keep us posted.” He releases the button. “We heard the helicopters an hour ago, I’m sure it’s going to clear soon.”
My stomach rumbles. “I haven’t eaten since this morning.”
“Wait here.” Caleb opens the door and disappears for almost fifteen minutes.
What the hell? This delay feels anticlimactic after our conversation at the theater. By the time we get home, I’ll want to stay in my room just from the sheer need to rest, my hangover still lingering.
The door swings open and he slides back in and places a box in my lap.
“Croissants?” I smile at him, and almost moan at the tantalizing steam coming from the box. Picking up one soft pastry, I groan. “They’re fresh.” I take a bite and actually moan around the flaky batter.
“Jesus, woman, stop those sounds before I have no option but to feed you my cock.”
His voice is light and playful, but an undeniable need laces his tone.
“Let me eat in peace. We should have gotten something for Peter.”
“I got him a sandwich.”
“What about you? ”
“I’m hoping you’ll share.”
I clutch the box closer to me. “Never.” I slide farther from him, grinning. There’s no way I can eat all five of them, but I can tease him.
“You’ll let me starve?”
I pretend to think about it, but Caleb slides closer and pinches my chin, kissing me roughly and daring me with his hooded gaze.
“I guess I could share. I mean, you got me my favorite pastry.”
“I know.”
He snatches one and leans back. I cock my head in question.
“There were never croissants in my house before, so I concluded you love them. Is it sentimental?”
I don’t know how to answer that. Frankly, I accepted the craving a long time ago without giving it much thought. “It’s the weirdest thing, because I don’t think I liked them that much in France, but I guess they became the stereotypical connection to the country that is no longer my home.”
“Do you miss it?”
“Do you miss your parents?” I’m aware I’m stalling, but this conversation is a difficult one, even though it’s time I shared and explained.
Caleb leans into the leather backrest, but he stays very close. Eyes trained on the dark partition in front of us, he sighs. “Since I learned about Mia, I hate my father.”
His father ensured Caleb had no contact with his daughter or her mother. What if it was different? Would he be happily married to Reese?
A pang of unreasonable jealousy swarms through me. I don’t say anything, because I can keep repeating the same mollifying words to him, but it won’t help him. He needs to let go of that toxic relationship on his own.
Instead, I decide to bare a part of me that might show him we have more in common than we ever imagined.
“Me too.”
His shoulders heave with another loaded sigh. “I’m sorry for what he did to you.”
“Nothing compares to what he did… what he’s still doing to you. But I was talking about my father.” Bile moves up my chest as I remember the man.
I slouch into the seat, suddenly unable to breathe. Caleb turns his head and I feel his gaze deep inside me. “Your father?”
The confines of the car start closing in on me. I lower the window, and honking cars, exhaust fumes, distant music and a news anchor’s voice infiltrate the small space.
Somehow it’s easier to tell him about my parents amidst the ruckus of Manhattan. “My father was jealous and controlling. He’d accuse my mom of flirting, make her change her clothes when he deemed them too revealing. He’d come to the theater where she worked and cause scenes.
“She shielded me from his wrath for most of my childhood, but when I was fifteen, he lost his job. He channeled his frustration into even more jealousy and control. I don’t know if he truly loved my mom, and I don’t know why she never tried to leave him. Or maybe she tried.
“He couldn’t find work, started drinking then and became more aggressive, but never ever physical. Until…”
A shudder rakes through my body as I recall the night when I lost the most important person in my life.
Caleb pulls me to him, understanding that I won’t be able to go through this story without his support.
“I was seventeen when he attacked me for wearing a slutty dress, but this time he accentuated his words with his fist. Mom intervened, but his rage was blinding and he pushed her away. She stumbled, fell, and hit her head on a coffee table.
“I left the country shortly after her funeral, and I vowed to always dress the way I want, and to never ever let anyone control me.”
“I fucking want to kill him right now. ”
I chuckle humorlessly. “He’s in prison, and he’s not worth it.”
Caleb holds me tighter and kisses the crown of my head. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too. I’ve never told anyone. I miss my mom every single day.”
“When I snapped about your dress and raged about the low-life choreographer…”
“It triggered me.”
“Fuck, Celeste, I’ve never meant—”
I pivot to face him. “I know. That’s the fucked-up part. I don’t know why or how it happened, but I trust you. I trust that you wouldn’t hurt me. Even today, when you lashed out at Leon, you first checked if I was okay. My father would have accused me of asking for it. But there are occasions when I can’t control my reaction.”
“I’ve never been jealous before. This is the first time I find myself acting before I can think. The need to—”
I put a finger on his lips. “Don’t say anything right now. We’re both learning how to dance together. I told you the story because I wanted you to see the other outcome of that horrible night.
“I came to New York, I built a business, I booked some damn good gigs, I met you…” My breath hitches at the last thing. “I could have stayed home, grieved, an d blamed my father, but I chose to celebrate my mom and be the best version of myself, one that would make her proud.”
“She’d be proud of you now.”
I smile, warmth spreading through my veins. His praise truly is something I never knew I needed.
“Your parents will never be proud of you, Caleb, because they are selfish, narcissistic people. Don’t let them rule your life. It’s noble you’re fixing as many of his mistakes as possible, but you need to look forward. He robbed you of the time with your family, but he can’t rob you of it again. You’re in control now.”
He nods, and we stay still for several long moments. It’s a stillness that deepens our understanding. That wraps all the hurt in kindness.
“I want Mia to spend more time with us.” He looks at me with a question in his eyes. “Would you be okay with that?”
As his wife, he means. As the woman who isn’t by his side only temporarily.
I smile. “I would love that.”