Chapter Five #2
His lips thin and he nods. “That’d probably be my unhealthy obsession with collecting discarded department store mannequins. My entire shed is filled with them.”
I rear back, my eyes going wide. “Cut it out; no you don’t. Caleb, that’s fuckin’ creepy as shit.”
He laughs. It’s soundless, but behind the scar, his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “No, I really don’t. I have—well, had—a lot of hobbies, but that isn’t one of them.”
“What were some of your hobbies then?” I ask.
He proceeds to settle back on the bench and sign to me all the things he used to enjoy doing in his free time.
Caleb really is a man of very many interests.
It seems to me as if there isn’t much he hasn’t done.
I get the feeling this is the first time he’s shared all this with anyone since he lost his ability to use his voice, given the huge smile he dons while telling me all about his dare-devilish past.
He still snowboards in the winter, but doesn’t do the big-mountain stuff anymore, and he always goes alone now—too afraid to put his son at risk.
He used to do motocross, but sold his bike after the accident.
He’d like to get back into kite-surfing again, eventually.
All the stuff that scares the absolute living shit out of me, it sounds like he thrives on it.
One thing is for certain, Caleb is an adrenaline junkie.
It seems like he gave a lot of it up, however, after the accident.
I'm not sure if that's due to fear or from lack of accessibility, but just knowing that he's no longer out there seeking the things that bring him joy is disheartening.
I understand it though. I myself feel like I let my past hold me back way too much.
Sometimes, it feels more like I'm just surviving, rather than thriving.
Other times, I thank my lucky stars for the blessings I've been given despite the trauma.
My outlook is forever changing, much like the rise and fall of the tides at sea.
Suddenly, my stomach rumbles. “Hungry yet?” he asks me, a single eyebrow arched quizzically.
“Ugh, yes. Fine, we can go out to dinner,” I feign annoyance with a playful smirk. Honestly? I think I was set on letting him take me out to dinner the first time he asked earlier at the ice cream shop.
“Do you want to go to Portside?”
“No!” I blurt, dread coiling with me. I clear my throat, attempting to smooth over my sudden outburst. “Um, no thank you. I don’t like going to bars, sorry.”
His brows shoot up momentarily before he reconsiders and suggests, “Okay, that’s fine. How about Spinelli’s? Do you like Italian?”
“Love it,” I tell him. “But I’ve never been to Spinelli’s, actually.”
“If you love the fare, why not?”
I smirk. “I’m essentially married to a man whose Nonna grew up in Verona. He says it’d be a form of blasphemy to eat there when he can make better gnocchi at home.”
His brows furrow at that. He looks lost in a memory for a moment, before his hands raise back up. “Well, let’s go test that theory. Time to settle the great gnocchi debate.”
Not that I have any to compare this to as an adult, but in terms of first dates, this really was a fantastic one.
I’m sure, throughout the night, Caleb must have wondered about my quirks—my mistrust of having anything to drink unless it was a closed capped bottle of water, not the house water from a pitcher, and wanting to be seated somewhere in the middle of the crowded dining room, instead of in a quieter corner—but at least he was respectful enough not to pry.
And not once did he bring up the fact that he had told me so much about himself, and yet I ended up not having the courage to give him much of anything about me.
It’s like he was just happy to ramble on about himself, and I’m sure that’s mostly because someone can finally understand him.
Total green flag behavior.
Still, I’m apprehensive. I’m going to need more than just a handful of dates before I start to open up more, I’m sure.
Luckily for me, he seemed almost excited about wanting to meet up again outside of his appointments.
We even kissed before going our separate ways, and it was…
nice. Not demanding or urgent. It was sweet, really.
Shit, and he asked me to text him to let him know I made it home okay.
Me
Made it home safe and sound. Thank you again for tonight. I had a really great time.
Caleb
I’m glad. And me too! You never did tell me who won the gnocchi debate…
Me
Ehhh, I don’t know if I dare say.
Caleb
Why? Does your hubby go through your text messages?
Me
No, not at all. I just don’t want to hurt your feelings when I admit his is better. Sry.
Spinelli’s was good, though! Don’t get me wrong… Just not as good as Nonna’s.
Caleb
Hmm, well if it’s a grandmother’s cooking you enjoy. Just you wait until you’ve tried my Nana Wilmot’s cottage pie recipe. That’ll stick to your ribs.
I’ll make it for you sometime. It’s Cam’s fave.
Me
Deal, but only if I can be there to watch you make it.
Caleb
Ah, I see, I see. Trying to steal the secret family recipe. Sneaky girl…
It’s a date then. ;)
Have a good night, Lauren.
Me
:) You too.
I’m still grinning—probably like a deranged clown—when I let myself inside the house and find Brody and Marcus curled up on opposite ends of the couch, fast asleep.
My good mood isn’t even thwarted when I spy the mess of popcorn and ice cream fixings littering the kitchen counters…
or the root beer bottles leaving condensation rings on the coffee table.
I simply pry the cochlear processor out of Brody’s hand and put it back on the charger for the night. He rouses, groggy and confused. “Did you and Dad have a guy’s night?” I ask him.
He nods, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, then signs, “We must have fallen asleep during our movie.”
“Why don’t you head to bed, baby?” I suggest, ruffling his shaggy hair.
“Okay. I love you.”
“I love you too. Goodnight.”
When Brody pads off towards his bedroom, apparently skipping his teeth for tonight, Marcus shoots up in a panic. When he sees it’s just me, he visibly relaxes. “Hey, babe. How’d your date go?”
I grin. “Surprisingly well.”
A soft smile plays on his lips. “Good to hear. Uh, sorry for the mess. I’ll clean—” He starts to stand up and head for the kitchen, but I stop him.
“Relax, Marco. It’s fine for tonight.” I find myself leaning into him and wrapping my arms around his waist. I sigh, nuzzling into his warm embrace—comforted by his steadfast security.
His arms curl around me tighter. “You sure you’re okay, Lo?” he mutters into my hair.
I nod. “Mhm, I’m fine. I just needed one of your bear hugs so I know it’s okay to let my guard down. I’ve been so overwhelmed with nerves and anticipation since he asked me to go out. He was an absolute gentleman, but I was still, I don’t know, anxious I guess.”
“Perfectly understandable. I’m glad to hear he was good to you though. So fuckin’ glad. Are we having a cuddle night tonight?”
“If that’s okay…”
“Of course. It’s always okay.”
And just like always, after we both take turns brushing our teeth and climb into our bed, I find absolute comfort waiting for me in Marcus’ strong arms. All it takes is just a few minutes of us laying together, my head on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat, and I’m lulled to sleep.
I’m not even sure I had the energy in me to reply to his whispered, “Love you, Polo.”