6. Caleb
CHAPTER 6
CALEB
“ I ’ve missed you, Daddy,” Seda says softly, perusing the menu even though she’ll order French toast like she does every time we’re here.
“I’ve missed you too.”
Some might think it’s strange that I coparent a child who isn’t technically mine. To them, I would say that blood means little when it comes to love.
Salem and I broke up before I went to college, but when she came back to me, pregnant with Thayer’s baby, I knew I’d be there for her and that child any way I could be. At the time, I didn’t think we’d ever be more than just friends. Eventually, though, we grew closer again. It probably helped that we had some distance from Hawthorne Mills. When it was just us, it didn’t take long to get back to the way we’d been. Our connection had always been easy like that. Deep down, I knew she still cared for Thayer, but I loved her enough to look past it. After all, I had her, and he didn’t.
Even still, I wasn’t surprised when she asked for a divorce.
Sad? Sure.
Surprised? No.
But I wouldn’t take that time back—our short marriage, raising Seda, none of it.
The day Seda was born was the happiest of my life. The memories are bittersweet, but recalling them always settles my soul.
“Caleb?” Salem stands in the doorway of the bedroom, holding her stomach, a pained expression contorting her face. “I think this is it.”
I can’t help but give her a skeptical look. We’ve had two false alarms already.
“For real this time,” she says through gritted teeth. “I’m leaking…” Her cheeks flame. “I think my water broke. Or maybe it’s breaking. I don’t know. It’s not a big gush like the movies, but I think that’s what it is.”
I move swiftly into action, grabbing the bags we packed in preparation for this day. “Get in the car,” I tell her. “I’ll get everything else.”
In a matter of minutes, I’ve loaded our bags, along with the one for the baby, and several pillows. The car seat has already been installed. I specifically went to the firehouse to ensure it was done correctly. When I’m certain we have everything we could possibly need while we’re at the hospital, I slide in behind the wheel.
“Do you think we’re bringing too much?” she asks, her lip caught between her teeth.
“No.” Yes. Way too much. But better safe than sorry. I don’t want to leave her side if I don’t have to.
Twenty minutes later, we pull into the hospital parking lot. Salem hasn’t complained once, despite the pain contorting her face every few minutes.
“How far apart are they?” I ask.
“About six minutes, I think.”
Once I’ve parked, I dart to the entrance in search of a wheelchair, and as I rush back and find she’s already waddling toward me, I curse. She’d smack me if she knew I called her walk a waddle, but that’s exactly what it is.
“Salem,” I scold. “Get in the chair.”
She does so without protest, clearly in a lot of pain. I hit the lock button on my fob and spin her around. I’ll be back for our stuff later. Right now, I need to get her inside.
Check-in goes smoothly since we preregistered, and in triage, a nurse confirms that she’s in active labor, adding that she’s already at six centimeters.
Salem squeezes the life out of my hand, eyes squished shut.
“Breathe,” I tell her when her face reddens.
“Shut up,” she bites out. “It feels like a bowling ball is trying to force its way out of my vagina. It fucking hurts.”
I press my lips together.
Silence .
Got it.
Several hours and one epidural later, it’s time for Salem to push.
I hold one leg while a nurse takes the other.
“Come on, baby,” I whisper, kissing the side of her head. “You’ve got this.”
Her bottom lip wobbles, her eyes full of terror. “I’m scared.”
“Don’t be. On the other side of this, you get to meet your daughter.”
She squeezes my hand, lips quivering. “ Our daughter.”
Fuck. Tears immediately burn my eyes. Those simple words mean more to me than she’ll ever know. Despite my classes and work, I haven’t missed a single appointment. I want to be involved in everything. The ultrasounds, the baby’s movements, all of it. Night after night, I’ve talked to our child, more and more excited to meet her.
“Our daughter,” I echo around the lump in my throat.
“All right, Salem,” the doctor says. “Here comes another contraction. I want you to bear down and push. Trust your body. It knows what it’s doing.”
She does as she’s instructed. When she pauses for a break, she brings those pleading eyes to mine. “Don’t look down there.”
I laugh. “A little late for that, sweetheart.”
She groans. “You know what I mean.”
Smiling, I smooth the sweaty blond hair off her forehead. Her eyes are tired, but there’s a determination there too. “I want to watch. I don’t want to miss a single detail of this. You’re bringing our child into the world. Already, this is the most important thing I’ve ever been part of. ”
She bites her lip. “Then don’t judge whatever else may happen down there.”
I laugh again. “I won’t, baby.”
An hour later, a tired, teary-eyed Salem gives one last push, and finally, our daughter comes screaming into the world, arms flailing, covered in goo. And she’s absolutely perfect.
Tears fall from my eyes of their own accord.
A nurse suctions stuff out of her mouth, then the doctor plops her onto Salem’s chest.
Salem sobs, patting the baby’s back and repeating “oh my God” over and over again.
I kiss her, murmuring, “I love you so much. Look what you did. Look how amazing you are.”
“She’s perfect,” she sobs. “Just look at her, Caleb.”
And I do.
I feel it then.
That I’m this little girl’s dad, not because she shares my DNA, but because I choose her.
“What are you thinking about?” Seda asks, playing with a strand of her blond hair.
She looks like a clone of her mother. I don’t see a trace of Thayer in her. Or perhaps that’s only wishful thinking on my part.
“How much I love you.”
She beams. “I love you too, Daddy. Mom said I can hang out with you all day if you’re free.”
“I’m always free for you.”
Even if I weren’t in Hawthorne Mills, if my girl called me and said she needed me, I wouldn’t hesitate to hop in the car and drive back to see her .
I swore I would be a different kind of parent to her than mine were for me. My parents weren’t inherently terrible, but they put a lot of pressure on me to be the best at everything. It was too much for a kid, and it’s my life’s mission to make sure Seda doesn’t have to experience that kind of overwhelming strain. If she’s happy, then that’s enough for me.
Seda smiles, her shoulders lowering in relief. “Good. Samson cries so much. Mom says he’s teething.”
“He probably is. Remember how it hurts when your adult teeth grow in?” I ask, leaning forward a fraction. “Now try being a baby and not knowing what’s happening.”
“But he’s not a baby anymore,” she argues. “He’s almost two.”
“Yes, but he’s still a little guy, and he’s probably getting his molars. That’s gotta hurt. Have some sympathy.”
She frowns. “So should I get him a stuffie or something?”
Smiling, I lift a shoulder. “We could if you want. It might cheer him up.”
“Hmm.” She tilts her head. “I think we should. Oh, and Mom said you should come over for dinner. She’s making lasagna.”
“Sounds good. What should we do between now and then?”
Her blue eyes light up and she bounces in her seat. “Could we go to the mall?”
The mall is nearly an hour away, but it’s one of her favorite places. She isn’t old enough for makeup yet—though she’ll argue over that point—but that doesn’t stop her from perusing every store that sells the stuff.
I wind my straw wrapper around my finger absently. My dad once said it looked ridiculous for a man to use a straw in a restaurant. Dumbest shit I’ve ever heard. Who knows how many people handle the outside of these glasses. It feels more sanitary this way.
“If that’s what you want.”
“It is.” She nods, her head bobbing a little too vigorously.
As our server sets our plates before us, Seda rubs her hands together eagerly. My girl loves French toast.
“Thanks,” I say as I pick up the syrup and drizzle a generous amount over my pancakes.
A day like this, spent with Seda, is exactly what I need after a rough week. Sometimes I question my profession, or at least my specialty. I prefer my quiet life here in Hawthorne Mills—even if it gives my overbearing mother more access to me than I’d like—but I do what I do for the families I can help. If I stopped, the guilt would consume me. How many families wouldn’t receive the proper help? Sure, there are other attorneys in Boston, but I’m good at what I do. It would be a disservice to so many if I gave it up.
But I’m too young to feel so weary. I’m not quite thirty, yet somehow, I feel closer to fifty.
Once we’re finished, we step into the sunshine side by side. It’s a beautiful summer day in Hawthorne Mills. It may only be seventy now, but it’ll be eighty by the afternoon.
Seda starts toward my car, but I shake my head and grasp her arm. “I need coffee first.”
The coffee at the diner is always too bitter and slightly burned-tasting, and the single cup I had first thing this morning isn’t enough.
Seda scurries along beside me as I head down the sidewalk, a happy pep in her step. “Can I get coffee?”
“No,” I say, just like I do every time she asks.
“When I’m older?”
“Yeah, when you’re older.”
She peers up at me as we cross the street. “Like next year?”
“Mm,” I hedge. “Maybe a little longer.”
She sighs, her steps turning heavier. “But that’s forever from now.”
“It’ll be here before you know it, trust me.”
I never believed my parents when they said that time flies, when they told me to enjoy things and not rush life. But somehow, I blinked and my newborn baby girl turned into a ten-year-old.
Seda steps in first, and I follow. There’s a short line, and behind the counter, Halle works. Her brown hair is pulled back in a sloppy ponytail, a few stray hairs escaping from beneath her baseball cap.
Frazzled doesn’t even begin to properly convey how she looks.
“Uh.” She blinks at the person standing across the counter. “What did you say your name was again? ”
“Darren.”
“Right.” Sharpie in hand, she takes a cup off the stack, but he clears his throat, and she freezes. “Is something wrong?”
“I ordered an iced coffee. Not hot.”
Halle slowly lowers the paper cup. “Right. I knew that.”
She pulls a plastic cup next, then scrawls the man’s name and sets it on the counter. “That’ll be four dollars and seventy-five cents.”
The man pays and moves to the side to wait, and Halle takes the next order.
When I finally step up to the counter, Halle lets out a frustrated groan. “How long have you been here witnessing my misery?”
“Long enough.” I bite back a smile.
“What can I get you, then?” Halle asks, fingers shaking slightly against the touchscreen.
“A black coffee, please.”
She taps on the screen and picks up a cup, though she stops with it lifted in midair. “Oh, wait. What size?”
“The one you have is fine.”
“Okay,” she says, staring at it.
The woman standing at the espresso machine sighs. “Just put an X for black coffee.”
“Right.” Halle’s cheeks flame red, her head lowered as she marks my cup with an X and slides it down the counter.
“That’ll be three dollars and fifty-five cents.”
I hand her a five-dollar bill. When she passes me the change I stuff it in the tip jar. “I hope your day gets better, Halle. ”
“Do you two know each other?” Seda asks, squinting at me, then Halle.
“She and her brothers just moved in next door to us.”
“Oh.” Seda’s face brightens. “I’ve seen you. Those boys are your brothers?”
Halle nods, swallowing thickly. “They are. I hope they haven’t bothered you.”
Seda shakes her head, blond hair swaying. “No. They’re nice.”
Halle’s eyes go wide. “Oh. Well, good, then.”
“They came over and swam at my house yesterday.”
“They did?” My new neighbor’s once flushed cheeks have lost most of their color. “They didn’t tell me.”
Seda bites her lip, her eyes flitting up to me, then down to the counter. “Maybe I wasn’t supposed to say? I don’t want to get them in trouble.”
“No, no,” Halle says, adjusting her cap. “It’s fine.” To me she says, “I take it this is your daughter?”
Pride fills my chest. “Yes, this is Seda.”
“Nice to meet you,” Seda says with a smile. “I should’ve said that first.”
“Come on.” I squeeze her shoulder. “Let’s leave poor Halle alone.”
For a moment, Halle watches us, but then between one blink and the next, she straightens and focuses on the woman who steps up to the register, pasting on a fake smile.
“You still want to go to the mall?” I ask Seda as the woman who sighed at Halle calls my name and sets my coffee on the pickup counter .
She scoffs. “Of course.”
I should have known better than to hope she might have changed her mind.
“All right, kiddo, let’s go then.”
Hours later, I park in my driveway and follow Seda over to Salem and Thayer’s house. Inside, it smells like a gourmet Italian restaurant, the scent of basil and mozzarella filling the air.
“Seda! Seda! Seda! I missed you!” Seda’s little sister, Soleil, barrels into her, nearly knocking her off her feet. “You’ve been gone forever .”
“Only since this morning, silly goose.” Seda tugs on one of Soleil’s pigtails.
Thayer pokes his head out from the kitchen, dishrag tossed over his shoulder. “You’re back,” he says to Seda. “Hey, Caleb. You staying for dinner?”
I dip my chin. “Thanks for having me.”
He plucks the rag from his shoulder, wiping at his fingers. “You want a glass of wine? A beer?”
“Wine would be great.”
Seda and Soleil scurry over to where their brother is playing in his toddler-sized ball pit in the corner of the living room. He throws one, and it hits Seda square in the forehead, but as I step into the kitchen, my little girl is unfazed, greeting the little guy with a hug.
“Hi,” Salem says, pulling the lasagna out of the oven. “I’m glad you could come. ”
“I’ll never say no to lasagna.”
Unless my mom makes it, but it has nothing to do with her cooking skills. No, it’s because every time I go over to their house, I’m subjected to a lecture. Even now that I’m pushing thirty, she still treats me like a child whose every move needs to be guided.
“Everything is ready. Want to toss the salad while I get the kids’ plates fixed?” she asks, setting the pan down on a hot plate.
Without hesitation, I work to assemble the makings they’ve prepped and set out on the counter, only pausing when Thayer holds a glass of wine out to me.
“Thanks.” I lift my glass in his direction. “Oh, and thanks for tending to Halle’s yard.”
“It wasn’t a problem,” he says, heading out of the kitchen. A moment later he returns with a giggling Samson tossed over his shoulder. “In you go.” He sets the kid in his highchair and snaps his wriggling form into it in record time.
Sam finally notices me, reaching his chubby hands out. “Cal! Cal!”
“Hey, buddy.” I bend down, meeting his eyes, and ruffle his hair. “What have you been up to today?”
“Snacks,” he answers.
Salem laughs from where she’s dishing out lasagna. “If the kid isn’t walking around with a cracker in one hand and a drink in the other tormenting the pets, then I swear he’s not happy.”
“Aw, that’s not true, is it?”
He giggles in response .
“All right, kids,” Thayer hollers. “Get in here and grab your plates.”
Seda and Soleil tumble into the kitchen, dashing for Salem, and with a warning to walk carefully and use both hands, they take their plates to the table.
As I watch, an ache settles deep in my gut.
I’ve moved on from Salem.
I loved her, a part of me will always love her, but I realize now that she’s not the love of my life. We never had the connection she shares with Thayer.
But I want that. A soul-deep special kind of connection.
And I miss this . The kids. Having a family to come home to every night.
Sure, I’m young.
I have plenty of time to find the right person. To settle down. Have more kids.
But some days the life I want feels out of reach, and it hurts.
“Here’s your plate, Caleb,” Salem says, breaking me out of my thoughts.
I take it from her with a quiet “thank you” and sit beside Seda.
Samson bangs his fists on his tray. “Lagna! Lagna! Lagna!” he demands.
His chant pulls at my heartstrings. I’ll miss it when he begins to pronounce things correctly. Just like I miss all of Seda’s mispronunciations.
When Thayer and Salem join us, it hits me that Thayer’s brother isn’t here, which is unusual.
“Where’s Laith? ”
Thayer groans.
Salem, on the other hand, singsongs, “He’s on a date.”
“Oh?” Though I arch a brow lazily, inside, my heart races with panic, and the strangest fear engulfs me. What if he’s out with Halle?
I shake my head. The idea is ridiculous. And even so, why should I care?
Thayer stifles a snort. “It’s one of his app buddies, don’t get too excited.”
By app buddies, he means one of the women Laith hooks up with.
“Shush.” Salem swats at him. “He doesn’t normally take them on dates. This is progress.”
Thayer grumbles, “Whatever you want to call it.”
Laith’s refusal to settle down is a sore spot for his family. After spending an evening out with him and a few beers to many, I know there’s more to the story, but I’m not about to spill his secrets.
“He’ll get there,” Salem says, wearing a small smile. “And what about you?” She zeroes in on me.
“What about me?” I feign confusion, suddenly feeling cornered.
“Are you dating anyone?”
“No.”
It hurts, the way her eyes dim. She’d love to see me settle down, to find my person, but she also harbors guilt, worried that she wasted my time while we were married. Like maybe she kept me from meeting the woman I’m supposed to be with.
I dated one of Seda’s teachers for about six months, but it just didn’t work out. That’s how it goes most of the time. I haven’t given up hope, but between the stress that comes with my line of work and carving out all the time I can for Seda, just the idea of finding time to dedicate to another person is exhausting.
“Once things slow down at work,” I say, hoping to assuage her guilt, “I’ll have more time to date. Don’t worry about me.”
Seda clears her throat, bringing my attention to her. Her mouth is ringed in tomato sauce, and her eyes are bright. “What about Halle?” she asks. “Maybe you could ask her on a date.”
My stomach knots in a weird way. Part denial and part interest. I stick with denial. “We’re neighbors, sweetie. That could get complicated. And I’m sure she’s still trying to get settled in. I doubt she’s actively looking to date.”
Thayer let’s out an amused laugh. “Don’t let being neighbors stop you if you’re interested.”
Another knot of my stomach. This one a little less pleasant. Right. That’s how he and Salem met.
I run my fingers through my hair.
“I don’t have time to date,” I reiterate, keeping my tone firm. “So that’s that.”
Thayer and Salem exchange a look, but neither speaks.
It’s rare that either of them genuinely irritates me, but at times like this, I can’t help but feel a little rankled. They have their own secret, silent language, and they’re clearly using it to talk about me without saying a word.
There’s no point. My lack of a love life is not their burden to bear .
And I’m going to have to meet up with Laith soon so I can warn him that these two seem interested in meddling in our love lives.
By some miracle, we make it through the rest of dinner without another mention of dating, and once I’ve gotten hugs from all the kids, I head home, carrying a plate full of cupcakes Salem insisted I take. I had the whole house renovated when I bought it. New paint and new floors, and I had the kitchen and bathrooms gutted and redone. On the inside, it doesn’t even resemble the house I purchased, which is exactly what I was going for. I wanted to make this place mine.
I flick on the light in the foyer and pad to the kitchen, where I set the plate on the counter. I know I should shower and go to bed, but instead, I’m drawn to my back porch, unable to resist looking for Halle.
I step outside and drop into the rocker on my deck. As I lean back, I peer over, going for casual.
Sure enough, she’s there and she’s…
I sit up straight. Why the fuck is she crying?
Before I know what I’m doing, I’m off the porch and striding across the lawn.