8. Caleb
CALEB
Icouldn’t help but enjoy myself with everything Greg had planned. My best friend had gone all out, inviting Simon, my brother, along with Bruce and Connor, my brothers-in-law, and a few close friends who had known me since my reckless university days.
The first part of the surprise managed to distract me from the upcoming wedding, which still sat in my stomach like a stubborn knot.
We had flown down on a charter flight from Vancouver to Victoria, and from there, the boys and I explored the islands scattered between the mainland and the open ocean.
We spent our days hiking along forest trails, camping under wide stretches of sky, lounging on sandy beaches, and playing whatever sport someone suggested at the time.
The rhythm of the trip felt carefree and wild, the kind of freedom I hadn’t experienced in years.
“So,” Greg said one afternoon, unfolding a map and marking another bold X inside a circle. “Tomorrow, we hit Denman Island.”
I raised my eyebrows as I took a sip of my beer, watching him. “How many islands have you planned? We’ve already hit three—Cortes, Pender, and Salt Spring.”
“It’s the last one tomorrow, I promise,” Greg replied with a grin. “After that, we head to Cowichan Bay and then back to the city.” He paused before adding, “I managed to get permission from your lovely future wife to extend the party for another week. Now it’s time for a dip and the floating bar.”
“The floating what?”
“You’ll see,” Greg said, winking at me. “Let’s go.”
And a floating bar it was.
The Tiki Bar drifted toward us across the water, its palm-thatched roof swaying gently in the breeze. Colourful cushions lined the seating area, and music pulsed from hidden speakers. A group of girls were already on board, laughing and dancing, clearly another surprise Greg had arranged.
Soon enough, we were dancing and singing along to the music, our laughter blending with the sound of waves slapping against the sides of the boat. My college friend, Martin, rolled a joint and passed it to me, his grin wide and unapologetic.
It had been a long time since I had smoked one.
I hesitated for a second before taking it from him.
Inhaling slowly, I felt the familiar euphoric sensation spread through my body—a tingling warmth beginning in my head, then drifting down through my chest before expanding outward into my limbs.
I drew in another deep breath, holding it for a moment before releasing it into the evening air.
My muscles loosened, and the tension I carried began to dissolve.
I closed my eyes.
Nyah’s face appeared.
I opened my eyes again, blinking against the wave of memory.
The music around me buzzed louder now, the rhythm vibrating through my bones. The salty scent of the ocean filled my lungs, and the dwindling sun cast golden reflections across the water, turning the entire scene into something almost dreamlike.
And just like that, another memory surfaced as I closed my eyes.
I remembered the night Nyah and I had gone skinny dipping during a summer visit to my sister’s house.
We had slipped quietly out of our rooms after everyone fell asleep, sneaking down to the beach beneath a sky full of stars.
The world had felt hushed and intimate, darkness wrapping around us, keeping our secret safe.
She had removed her pyjamas slowly before stepping into the water. Moonlight shimmered across her skin, turning her silhouette into something magnificent.
She had glanced back at me, her eyes shining. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Breathtaking,” I’d replied, my voice barely above a whisper as I watched her disappear into the water.
A few seconds later, I had followed her in, wrapping my arms around her from behind, pulling her close as her fingers threaded through my hair.
Our bodies moved together naturally, her heartbeat matching mine, sending electric pulses through my veins. Our breaths deepened, blending into one rhythm as passion and desire built between us, consuming everything else, ending in perfect bliss.
Nothing existed beyond the two of us… not the world, not the future, not the consequences.
Only us.
The memory faded slowly as I opened my eyes again, the present rushing back into focus. Almost automatically, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my wallet. My fingers brushed against the letter tucked safely inside, its edges worn from being handled countless times.
I’d felt like a fool for doubting my mother and her warning about Nyah in the beginning. I’d believed she was overreacting, interfering, and judging without understanding.
Looking back now, I couldn’t shake the uncomfortable comprehension that she had been right from the start. She always tried to protect me, and I hadn’t listened.
It had taken me years to accept it, but I believed now that everything between Nyah and me had been a lie... a carefully planned deception that ended with her taking the money and disappearing.
I shook my head sharply, trying to push my thoughts away before they swallowed me whole. Then I stood up and rejoined the others, throwing myself back into the noise and chaos of the party.
Dancing with girls whose names I didn’t even bother to remember, I let the music drown out my thoughts. I allowed the laughter, the alcohol, and the reckless energy of the night to carry me forward.
Still, even in the middle of the crowd, Nyah’s face stayed in my mind, fading slowly into the darkness as the night wore on.
On Friday, we checked into a five-star hotel in Cowichan Bay.
I stepped out onto the balcony and looked across the oceanfront, taking in the peaceful view before me.
The scene felt almost unreal in its quiet beauty.
The hotel faced the wharf, where sailboats rocked gently in the water beside fishing vessels and floating homes.
The entire village carried a charm that felt both simple and timeless.
My brother and brothers-in-law had already left that morning to return to the city. After dropping our suitcases in the room, the remaining three guys and I rented bicycles and set out to explore the small seaside village.
The place fascinated me.
Rows of eclectic shops lined the streets, each one filled with character and history.
Restaurants spilled warm light onto the sidewalks, and old European-style houses stood proudly along the waterfront.
The atmosphere felt calm and welcoming, the kind of place where life moved at a slower, more meaningful pace.
As we rode along the narrow streets, I realized I could actually live here.
Even if only for short visits or quiet weekend getaways, this place felt like an escape from the noise and pressure of my usual life.
I imagined mornings filled with fresh ocean air and evenings spent watching the sun sink beneath the horizon.
I would love it here.
But Tatiana wouldn’t.
She was a city girl through and through—someone who thrived on attention, media coverage, flashing lights, and constant activity.
The one vacation we had taken together in the Bahamas had proven that.
Despite the beauty of the island, she had wanted to leave after two days.
The peaceful silence bored her. Even the most stunning sunrises and romantic sunsets failed to change her mind.
While walking back toward the hotel later that evening, I noticed a restaurant signboard that caught my attention.
Tipsy Cow.
The logo made me laugh out loud—an intoxicated-looking cow holding a beer mug with a wide, ridiculous grin.
“Should we have dinner here?” Bradley asked.
“I guess.” Greg shrugged. “Seems like a nice place. We can give it a try.”
The moment I stepped inside, I loved it.
The colours, the décor, the lively atmosphere—everything about the place felt warm and inviting.
My eyes landed on the pool table in the corner. Something about the place immediately lifted my mood. We started playing a few rounds while ordering snacks and drinks.
A two-piece band performed in the background, their music filling the room with energy. Families, tourists, and couples gradually filled the restaurant, and soon karaoke began among the diners, turning the entire space into a lively celebration.
“You gentlemen new here?”
We all turned toward the voice.
Standing behind us was a round man with bright blue eyes and snow-white hair. His friendly smile and cheerful expression reminded me of my father—and, oddly enough, a little of Santa Claus.
“Yes,” Greg replied. “We’re here celebrating this man’s bachelor party.” He pointed directly at me.
“Congratulations!” the man said warmly, extending his hand. “I’m Jack, the manager of this restaurant. If you boys need anything, just ask.”
“Nice to meet you, Jack,” I said, shaking his hand. “Thanks.”
I liked him and his demeanour—kind and welcoming.
We returned to our game, laughter filling the space between shots.
“And that’s three-two,” I announced after sinking the final ball. “I’m kicking your ass, man.”
Greg rolled his eyes and ordered a round of tequila shots. Moments later, the drinks arrived, accompanied by small fireworks bursting dramatically beside the tray, courtesy of Jack.
“I like this place,” I said, glancing around at the lively crowd. “I’d like to come back here tomorrow. What do you think?”
“It’s your bachelor party, man,” Greg said. “Whatever makes you happy, makes me happy. Plus, it’ll give me another chance to beat you at pool.”
I scoffed. “In your dreams.”
He grinned, raising his shot glass. “Keep talking. It’ll make the loss hurt less tomorrow.”
I shook my head, lifting my glass. I haven’t had this much fun in a long time… whoever owns this place clearly knows exactly what they’re doing.