28. Caleb
Caleb
I stare at Poppy as she picks at her chicken salad. My mind is racing, replaying Amara’s words over and over. She wants to see me. Tonight. Sneaking out while Dom is in his office.
“You have dancing for three hours tonight?” I ask, knowing the answer but needing to confirm my mental timeline.
Poppy looks up, her fork paused midway to her mouth. “Yes, Dad. Same as every Tuesday.” She tilts her head. “Why?”
“Just checking.” I glance at my watch again—5:44 now.
“Dad, that’s the third time you’ve checked your watch in like two minutes.” Poppy puts her fork down. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. Just...busy night ahead.”
“Working on your book?” She takes a sip of water, studying me over the rim of her glass.
“Something like that.” I push my barely touched pasta around my plate.
“You’re being weird.” Poppy narrows her eyes. “Does this have anything to do with Amara?”
My head snaps up. “Why would you say that?”
“Because you get this look whenever someone mentions her.” She mimics my expression, furrowing her brow dramatically. “Like you’re constipated but also about to cry.”
“I do not look like that.”
“You totally do.” She points her fork at me. “Plus, you’ve been extra weird since her accident.”
I check my watch again.
“Dad! Seriously, what is happening with you tonight?”
“I love you,” I tell her abruptly.
Poppy’s expression softens, confusion giving way to concern. “Are you okay?”
“Can’t I tell my daughter that I love her?”
“Of course you can.” She reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “Love you too, Dad. But you’re still being super weird.”
I push back from the table, my legs unsteady beneath me. “I’ll make some coffee.”
The kitchen has always been my refuge. The place where I can think, where I can breathe. I grab the dark roast beans from the freezer. Pull back the top and pour some into the grinder, letting the mechanical whir drown out my thoughts for a few precious seconds.
The rich earthy aroma hits me as I pour the grounds into the filter, thinking about Amara and the predicament I’ve found myself in.
“You want something, Pops?” I call over my shoulder.
She laughs, the sound bright and innocent. “Dad, I don’t drink coffee. You know that.”
I smile despite everything. “I mean anything I can get you.”
“No, thanks.”
The coffee machine gurgles to life. I stare out at the back garden while I wait, watching the fading sunlight cast long shadows across the lawn. Everything’s changing. My daughter’s leaving for Juilliard. I’m falling deeper for a woman half my age. A woman who doesn’t really remember me. And Dom...
Dom would kill me if he knew what Amara, and I had done. What we’re planning to do. That’s if she remembers.
But it’s just a threat—isn’t it? He wouldn’t kill me.
No. I know Dom too well. We’ve been friends for years, bonded through grief, but I’ve seen what he does to people who cross him.
The coffee machine beeps, jarring me from my thoughts.
“Dad?” Poppy’s voice is closer now. She’s standing in the doorway. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re staring at that coffee like it holds the secrets of the universe.”
“Just thinking.”
“About Amara?” She’s too perceptive, my daughter.
I pour the coffee into my mug, watching the steam rise. “Poppy, if something happened to me—”
“Don’t.” Her voice cracks. “Don’t talk like that.”
I’d never leave Poppy alone. But what am I risking by seeing Amara tonight?
I set my coffee down and turn to face my daughter. The weight of everything I’m not telling her sits heavy on my chest.
“Poppy, if something happened to me, I need you to know that my will is in the safe in my office. The combination is your birthday.”
Her face pales. “Dad, what the hell?”
“You’re my sole beneficiary. Everything goes to you—the house, my retirement fund, the—”
“Stop it.” She steps forward, her green eyes wide with alarm. “Why are you talking like this? Are you sick? Is that what this is about?”
I shake my head. “Just thinking about life and how I got here.”
“This is about Amara, isn’t it? I know she nearly died, but she didn’t.” Her voice softens.
“She could easily have.”
She sighs. “Dad, you need to date again. Proper date.”
“Would you mind if I did? If I found someone?”
Poppy’s expression shifts from concern to something gentler. “I think ten years is a long time to grieve.”
We look at each other, the unspoken presence of her mother hanging between us.
“She was wonderful...your mom. She loved you so much. She’d be so proud of you.”
Poppy’s eyes lace with tears as she nods.
I step forward and pull her into my arms, holding her tight against my chest. She feels smaller somehow, like she’s shrinking back into the little girl who used to fall asleep on my shoulder. I breathe in the scent of her shampoo, trying to memorize this moment.
She pulls away first, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand.
“You’re just sad because I’m going to New York,” she says, forcing a smile. “That’s all this is about.”
I nod, grateful for the easy explanation. “That’s what it is.”
I stand at the water’s edge, watching waves crash against the shore. The sun hangs low on the horizon, slashing the dark sky in shades of red and pink.
My pulse races.
I’ve checked my watch twenty times since dropping Poppy at ballet. Time moves like molasses when you’re waiting for something that terrifies and thrills you in equal measure.
Sand rustles behind me.
I turn, my breath catching in my throat.
Amara approaches, her steps cautious, uncertain. Her bruised face is still stunning despite the purple shadows beneath her eyes.
The confidence I’d grown to love seems dimmed, but she’s here. That’s what matters.
“You came,” I say, the relief in my voice embarrassingly obvious.
She stops a few feet away. “I did.”
I extend my hand as my heart pounds against my ribs, waiting for her to take it. “Do you remember me?”
She looks at my outstretched fingers, hesitates, then slides her hand into mine. Her touch sends electricity through my veins, just like always.
“No,” she says softly, shaking her head. “I don’t remember you.”
My heart plummets. I try to mask my disappointment, but she catches it.
“But I found my diary,” she continues. “I read all about how I feel about you. How we met. How you told me you felt about me.”
I swallow hard. “You know about the website?”
She nods, looking away toward the ocean. “I can’t believe that person is me.”
“She is. But she’s only part of you.” I squeeze her hand gently. “Would you walk with me? Along the shore?”
“Okay.”
We move in silence for several steps, the wet sand giving beneath our feet, waves lapping at our ankles.
“In your diary,” I finally say, “did you read about our plans?”
“To run away together?” She glances at me. “After Poppy leaves for Juilliard?”
“Yes.”
“It seems...impulsive. Dangerous even.”
I laugh without humor. “It is. But I meant what I said then. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”
“Why? Why risk everything for me when I might never remember you?”
“Because I’ve spent ten years in the dark. And then you came along.” I stop walking, turn to face her. “I never expected to feel this way again.”
She studies my face, her eyes searching for something familiar. “My diary says I love you. That I fell hard and fast.”
“Did your diary also tell you I love you, too?”
She bites her lip and nods.
“Do you think you could? Again?” My heart hammers against my ribs, hope and fear tangling inside me.
“Do you want me?” Her voice breaks, and the sound fractures something in me.
“My feelings for you haven’t changed.”
She swallows as she turns to look at the ocean.
I wrap my arms around her waist and stand behind her, whispering in her ear, “We’ll figure it out. Together.” I turn her to face me and touch her cheek gently, my thumb grazing her skin. “If you want to. No pressure, no expectations. Just hope and possibility.”
“What if Dom finds out?” she whispers, glancing over her shoulder as if he might materialize from the shadows.
“He’s my best friend. But you’re...” I struggle for words, feeling the ones I want to say slip off my tongue.
“I’m what?” Her eyes lock with mine, vulnerable yet demanding the truth.
“Everything I didn’t know I was missing, but everything I can’t give up.” I swallow hard. “Like finding a piece of myself I never knew was lost until it was right in front of me.”
A single tear tracks down her cheek as she stutters, “I remember loving you.”
I know she doesn’t, but it’s still nice to hear.
I take her hand and guide her to the surf lifesavers' cabin on the beach. We sit side by side on the bench facing the ocean, our shoulders touching, watching the last ribbons of sunset disappear into the darkening horizon.
“I never stopped loving you,” I say, my voice barely audible above the crashing waves. “Even when they told me that you might never remember. Even when Dom warned me to stay away.”
She turns to me, her blue eyes reflecting the fading light. “He warned you?”
“He’s protective of you. Always has been.” I run my thumb across her knuckles, savoring the softness of her skin. “But how could I stay away? It was like asking me not to breathe.”
The truth sits heavy on my tongue. I know Dom wants her too.
I’ve seen the way he looks at her when he thinks no one’s watching—possessive, hungry, conflicted.
I’ve caught the subtle shifts in his voice when he speaks her name.
My best friend, the man who helped me through the darkest period of my life, wants the same woman I love.
But I can’t bring myself to tell her. Not now, when she’s finally here with me, her hand in mine, her eyes searching my face for answers.
“What is it?” she asks, sensing my hesitation.
I shake my head. “Nothing important.”
What good would it do to plant that seed? To make her question her relationship with the man who’s been her protector? A man who told me he took her virginity because I was holding back. Dom may want her, but he’s never going to cross that line if she doesn’t remember.
But I won’t be the one to tarnish her image of him, not when she’s already lost so much.
Instead, I pull her into my arms, one hand cradling the back of her head as I press my lips to hers. The kiss is gentle at first, tentative—like we’re discovering each other for the first time. But then she sighs against my mouth, and something ignites between us.
When we finally break apart, she’s breathless. Her fingertips trace the outline of my lips, feather-light, and send shivers down my spine. “I remember…”
“Amara. What are you saying?”
“When I said I remember loving you. I do. I wasn’t going to tell you. But you have to promise not to tell anyone. Not yet.”
My opens and closes as I stare at her, wondering how long she's remembered for but I'm more surprised that she wants to keep it a secret.
“Why not?”
“Because someone tried to kill me and until I know who it was, I’d prefer for everyone to think I can’t remember anything.”
I pull her to me, kissing her deeply on the lips. “You trust me?”
“I do. Now kiss me again,” she whispers, her eyes never leaving mine.