11. Caden
Caden
I’ve avoided the back half of my house all evening.
But I need to eat dinner, so I can’t hide like this anymore. From my great room, there’s a straight view into the guesthouse, and as I stand at the kitchen counter, seasoning a steak, I wonder if this was completely irresponsible of me.
Perhaps Fia was right, maybe I should’ve been upfront about the property being a guesthouse to my house.
I wash my hands, let the steak rest on a plate, and start chopping mushrooms.
Then again, it took so much convincing to get her to even accept help in the form of a loan that she probably would’ve never agreed to moving here if she’d known the truth.
But my property is private, quiet, and safe. There’s no mold, there’s space for her and her daughter . . . and even her feral cat that I totally forgot about when I offered her the place.
I toss the mushrooms in a hot pan with a splash of cream and a sprig of rosemary.
Just as I’m placing the steak into the sizzling cast iron, a car door slams shut and I snap my head up. The only person I’m used to parking in my driveway is my best friend, Matt, when he comes over to train me.
But now there’s a little gold sedan glinting in the evening sun.
This is going to take some getting used to.
Watching Fia, my new neighbor, feels a bit invasive and wrong, and yet I can’t peel my eyes away as she balances multiple grocery bags in her arms and gets her daughter from the backseat. Daisy clings to her like a little monkey as Fia, weighed down, trudges to the guesthouse’s front door.
I take a sip of bourbon and stir the mushrooms. Dinner for one on a Friday night.
I should make sure she gets in safe, being that it’s her first night here and all.
Across the span of the pool, Fia stands at the front door for longer than acceptable. It’s not that hard to punch in the code. I even gave her a backup key.
She drops the bags to the ground, and Daisy reaches up, yanking Fia’s sunglasses off her face as Fia pats her pockets with her free hand.
I told her I’d stay in my house and she’d barely see me. I intend to keep that promise. But she’s been standing there for three minutes when she leans down closer to the door, punching in numbers. Again.
My phone lights up with a message.
Guesthouse door locked. Code error limit reached.
I can’t hear her, but I do see her hair flying wildly around like flames as she kneels, presumably searching for the key now.
Motherfucker, this is like watching a train derail.
Wiping my hands on the kitchen towel, I pull up my house app to unlock the door from here. With bated breath, I watch as she jiggles the handle one more time, the door flying open.
Fia’s shoulders visibly relax, and she grabs her mountain of stuff, including her kid, and nearly skips into the house, kicking the door shut behind her.
“Good Lord,” I mumble, turning back to my dinner.
Just as I plate my food and sit on the couch, ready to mindlessly watch a documentary, my phone rings.
No one ever calls me at night, but it could be Eddie, so I grab it without checking.
“Hello, Caden.”
Great. I set my plate down, my shoulders already tense.
“Hi, Dad.”
“When were you going to tell me you were stealing my crew for a personal job?” His voice is harsh, and I cock my head back, staring at the coffered ceiling.
“I’m doing great, thanks, how are you?” I muse dryly.
“Do I need to remind you that you don’t own the damn company. You gave up that opportunity, remember?”
My fingers curl into a fist, and I expel a short breath.
Only Sterling Brooks could get under my skin this quick. He’ll never understand why I quit because he’ll never understand me. We aren’t alike. I’d never walk all over other people to get ahead. And if I had a wife, I’d never fucking cheat on her.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “First, I didn’t steal your crew.
Eddie and two guys had availability—I cleared it with him.
And second, I paid in full, in cash, upfront.
Didn’t ask for a family discount. Better than ninety-nine percent of the clients you contract, so I don’t want to hear it,” I rebut, keeping my voice level but my message crystal clear.
He doesn’t need to know who I called in the favor for. It’s none of his business, and it’s not like he checks the books, or even shows up to the office beyond board meetings.
My father starts to speak, but I cut him off.
“How did you even find out?” I ask. “I thought you and Mom were in Tampa til the end of the week?”
He grumbles something incoherent then says, “I have eyes everywhere, you know that. Either way, you can have Eddie’s crew for three weeks tops, not a day over—”
“No.” I shake my head, stopping my fist right before it hits the coffee table.
“I paid them to complete the job. If it takes six weeks, that’s what it takes.
They will finish it. You might be pissed at me, but remember that this is your company.
You really want to spoil the business’s image . . . again?”
“You got some nerve talking to me like that—”
I scoff. “Dad, it’s paid for so stop pretending anything else matters. Are we done?”
I wait for an answer but don’t get one. He hung up.
I toss my phone to the side of the sectional and glance out into the backyard. The sun is beginning to set, the evening sky full of pink, sinewy clouds. Beyond the pool, the glow from inside the guesthouse catches my eye.
Fia paces back and forth in front of the window, red hair cascading down her back, rocking Daisy in her arms.
My chest pings with something. Maybe it’s responsibility because it has become abundantly clear that I’m the only one helping out Fia right now. And I’m not going to be the one to let her down. She’s saved my ass at Good Grinds more times than I can count.
This house repair has to go smoothly and timely for her. She deserves that much.
I reach for my phone and shoot Eddie a text.
Caden: Whatever my father says, ignore him. I expect nothing but perfection from this job. No cutting corners for time’s sake. Treat it like you would your own house. Got it?