Chapter 31 Cal
CAL
Iwatch as Blake turns and walks to the other side of one of the many tables, the message loud and clear.
“I’m sorry.”
“Honestly, that means nothing, and I’m sorry you got dressed up and flew out here to tell me that.”
“I know I fucked up.”
“Again,”—he waves his hand toward me—“glad you can take responsibility for it but that doesn’t change anything. You made it clear that whatever I thought was happening between us was one-sided.”
“I was scared,” I say, restraining myself from taking a step toward him.
“And I can’t change that.”
“But you did and—”
“Cal, I don’t have time for this. I don’t want to be your second choice. I don’t want to live in Liam’s shadow, and I don’t want to wonder if I’m just a placeholder going through the motions.”
His eyes are angry and my gut roils, his pain palpable as we face off.
“You were never a placeholder and you’re too damn big to be anyone’s shadow.
Blake, what I felt—what I feel—with you can’t be compared.
Liam and I were young and yes, I love him and yes, losing him was something I’ll never truly get over.
But he’s not you. He wasn’t intense and all-consuming.
He didn’t leave me desperate or boneless.
He was the person I was meant to love for the time that I had him, but”—I swallow hard, pushing the guilt from my mind as I admit—“he wasn’t meant to be my forever. ”
Blake doesn’t respond, not at first, and I don’t blame him.
“Cal, I don’t—”
“You fell for the version of me that did not exist before losing Liam. His death changed me, and to know that you loved the man I became is something I’ll cherish even if you never forgive me.”
“I don’t want to compete with a memory.” The words aren’t harsh, they’re tired, and I long to reach out to him, to pull him into my arms, and hold him as long as he’ll let me.
“You’re so much more than a memory, Blake. You made me realize how much I wasn’t living and God, you made my life so much better.”
“Then what the hell happened?” The question is booming, his face flushed as if the words required physical exertion.
“No one’s ever challenged me to step out of the past. No one’s ever cared enough to try. I didn’t know how to react. I got defensive and I…” Swallowing hard, I force myself to continue. “There was a lot happening, not just with you, and then I saw the studio door open and—”
“I never fucking went in there.”
“I know.”
“Do you? Because you were pretty fucking sure that day.”
“The latch is broken; it was before you moved in.”
“Then what the hell is this, Cal? Is this closure or you think I’m going to give you a second chance? Because I don’t think I can do it.”
“Please.” The sound is choked. “I’ll move here and teach and we can—”
“Just like that? Leave your sister and all your friends? Drop everything and move to Savannah?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t believe you,” he snaps, rounding the table until we’re a few paces apart, “and I don’t want that.”
“Blake, please.”
“Why do you think you get to do this to me?” He scoffs, dragging his hand down his face as he steps away again, giving me his back. “I can’t do this right now. I need you out of here. Tonight is too important to fuck up. If anything, I thought you would understand that.”
“I do.” I swallow hard, pulling my phone from my pocket and pushing send. “I’ll leave, but I need you to watch this one thing.”
“Watch what? What are you—” His phone dings and he growls as he pulls it from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. “What is this?”
“Just watch.”
“Cal…”
I don’t say anything as the time-lapse video plays, the hours I’d spent in the studio condensed into little more than a minute.
For him.
I let my eyelids flutter closed, the memory of each brush stroke washing over me until his voice pulls me from my trance.
“What the hell is this, Cal?”
“Growing up, my sister and I lived so much on the road and we thought it would be fun to have call signs like the truckers. And it carried into our adult life. It’s how we sign emails, texts, and sometimes just if we’re talking.”
“Cal…”
“Hers is Hannah Banana and mine is Calico.”
“Calico,” he repeats.
“Calvin and Calico make—”
“VinCo. Holy fucking… I can’t even…”
“Hannah and my lawyer are the only two who know. You make three.”
“There’s no way…” he says, a mixture of shock, indignation, and something akin to anger flashing across his face.
“It’s why I was so protective of my space. Hannah told me that Reynolds Advertising had requested a donation, and there was a small part of me that wondered if you knew it was me, if you’d figured it out. And then I saw the door open.”
“So, you’re an elusive, highly sought after painter moonlighting as an elementary school art teacher,” he rasps, hurt lining his features as he waits for my answer.
“I give most of it away as charity donations and whatever. Growing up was hard, and I knew I never wanted to live with so much uncertainty.”
“This is crazy.”
“I just needed you to understand.”
“I understand you didn’t trust me.”
“I knew before I got back to the house that you were telling the truth.” I take a steadying breath. “And now, if you choose, there’s an entire room full of people you can out me to.”
I nod toward the phone in his hand, the confusion morphing into shock and then fury.
“You think I’d do that? Fuck, Cal.”
Holding up my hands in surrender, I take a small step toward him. “I’m saying that you hold my fate and my future in your hands. That I trust you to have that power.”
“And what if I had forgiven you before this? Would you have still told me?”
“Yes, but after the gala, when I had more than thirty seconds to tell you how badly I want this to work—for you to give me the chance to make things right.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, his eyelids squeezed shut. “My heart is fucking broken, Cal.”
“I know. I can fix it. I’m begging you to let me fix it.”
“I don’t know if I can, and I don’t even know if I want you to, but really, I can’t think about this right now. I have to get back out there before someone comes looking for me.”
I knew this was a possibility; I just didn’t know it would feel like losing him all over again.
“I…” My voice cracks and I have to clear my throat, his eyes popping open as I try again. “I understand,” I tell him, meaning it because I’m not sure I’d forgive me either. “Good luck tonight. I know it’s going to be incredible.”
You’re incredible.
I want to go to him, kiss him one last time but I can’t.
He doesn’t want me to.
So, I take a step back.
And then another before turning and heading for the door, my hands shaking as I pocket my phone. I’ll go up to my room and hope I can keep from climbing the walls until I can sneak out of here. I won’t make a scene.
I won’t do that to him.
“Cal.” I stop and brace myself, too much of a coward to turn and face him. “Just…stay.”
“I don’t want to ruin something you’ve worked so hard on.”
“Yeah, well, now you’ll ruin it if you go,” he murmurs. “I lied. I want to forgive you. I just… I don’t know if I can.”
“I appreciate you’re willing to try at all.”
“Go before I try to strangle you in here.”
“I didn’t—”
“Cal.” My name is a growl as he boxes me against the door.
He’s so close. God, all I’d have to do is inhale and my chest would brush against his.
His scent and heat envelop me like a familiar and comforting embrace.
But I don’t move, my body seemingly frozen as I wait for him to speak again.
“I didn’t fall for you because you’re complacent and timid.
I mean, Jesus Christ, this isn’t you. You want to impress me?
You want to win me back? Be you.” He pushes back and adjusts his tie. “The real you.”