Chapter Twenty-Six
Caleb
I’d decided I was going to learn how to cook. Real food. Not the sandwiches and scrambled eggs that had been sustaining me since I’d moved in with Chantel.
“That meal was incredible.” Zadie read my mind as we shuffled out of the dining room, leaving Chantel to deal with the aftermath. “Do you think Solange would teach me? I’d kill to cook like that.”
“Get in line. I was thinking the same thing.”
“Or maybe I could just convince her to move here.” She smiled, and the ease of it sent a spiral of heat through my chest.
“Good luck.” I rubbed my full stomach and dropped onto Eric’s couch. “That woman is Montreal to her bones.”
Zadie hesitated before curling up beside me, close enough that her shoulder pressed into my arm. “I should probably sit on the other side of the room.”
“But then you’d be on the other side of the room.” I wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her closer.
She huffed a laugh. “Exactly. Getting caught making out by Chantel was a little too reminiscent of being busted by my parents. Not a trauma I need to relive.”
“Can’t say I know what that’s like.”
“What?” She pulled back to look at me. “Your parents never caught you with a girl?”
“Nope.”
She shook her head. “How? I was elite level when it came to sneaking around and my mother still walked in on me enough times to make me think she’d bugged my room.”
“My teenage years weren’t exactly normal.
” The words felt almost too heavy to say out loud, but there was no point in running from the truth.
“I didn’t get the chance to sneak around with anyone.
Although, I did smuggle myself out of my hospital room a couple of times.
That’s how Eric met Jamie. I was hitting on her in the hospital cafeteria when Eric shut it down. ”
Something shifted behind her eyes, and my gut clenched. I knew what pity looked like—I’d been on the receiving end of it since I was twelve. But right now, I couldn’t read her.
And I sure as fuck couldn’t stand the thought of her treating me that way.
“You were hitting on your sister-in-law?”
The tension let go, my held breath releasing, and I broke into a wide smile. “She wasn’t my sister-in-law at the time. Just a sad-looking woman in a cafeteria who I thought was pretty.”
“How old were you?”
“Fourteen.”
“Seriously?” She laughed, her voice turning warm and flirtatious. “I would have paid money to see that. I bet you were just as smooth as you are now. Did she make those googly eyes at you, like she did with Eric at dinner?”
“You think you’re funny, don’t you?”
“A little.” A wicked glow lit her eyes, and her barely contained laughter drew my attention to the way her crimson dress pulled tight across her breasts.
Before she could register what was happening, I had her pinned beneath me on the couch. Flat on her back, her hands gripping my shoulders, her eyes wide and heated.
“How funny are you now?” My voice came out rougher than I intended.
I dipped my face toward hers, and her eyes fluttered shut, her mouth softening in anticipation. The temptation to take her mouth—to take a hell of a lot more—pulsed through me like a second heartbeat.
At the last second, I deviated to the right.
My lips found the crook of her neck, and instead of kissing her the way we both wanted, I dragged my mouth across her skin, finding the spot below her ear that made her breath catch, then the hollow of her throat, then the curve where her neck met her shoulder.
She arched into me, a strangled gasp escaping her lips.
“Cal.” Her fingers dug into my shoulders. “We can’t. Not here.”
“I know.” I pressed one last kiss to her collarbone and pulled back just enough to see her face. Flushed, pupils blown, lips parted. “But I wanted you to know what you do to me. In case you had any doubts.”
“Trust me.” She was breathless. “No doubts here.”
I rolled off her and settled on the floor beside the couch, resting my head against the cushion near her shoulder. She stayed on her back, staring at the ceiling, her chest rising and falling like she’d just sprinted a mile.
“How long were you in the hospital?” she asked once her breathing had steadied.
“Which time?” I ran my hand lightly down her arm and over her stomach. The way she was lying made her dress cling to every curve, the swell of her lower abdomen just visible beneath the fabric. I couldn’t help tracing my fingers over it.
“How many times were you there?”
“A few. The longest stay was the one where I met Jamie. It was six weeks. That’s the time I died.”
She covered my hand with hers, linking our fingers and pressing them gently against her stomach. “How can you be okay with me? With this?”
“If you’re about to list all the reasons I shouldn’t be, save your breath. I’ve heard them all. And none of them change a thing.”
“I wasn’t.” But her voice was quiet and the look on her face told me she still didn’t believe it.
I leaned down and kissed her cheek, my thumb stroking over her growing bump. “I’m more than okay with this, Zadie. All of it.”
“You really are, and that’s what throws me. Because I’m still not sure if I’m okay with it.” She searched my face. “You could have anyone. Someone your own age, without the baggage and the lifetime of bad decisions and an ex who won’t return her calls. Why this? Why me?”
“Because you’re fucking stunning. Inside and out.” I held her gaze. “The rest of it—the baby, the baggage, the ex—I don’t see obstacles. I see you. And everything that comes with you is just part of the deal.”
“You’re not who I expected, Cal Alexander.” She reached up, threaded her fingers through my hair, and pulled me to her.
I didn’t resist. Why would I? Her grip was insistent, her expression hungry, and I’d been hers since the first night I’d laid eyes on her.
Our mouths met in a kiss that felt inevitable. Her lips, my tongue, her teeth catching my lower lip, my breath tangling with hers. Not frantic. Not desperate. Just deep and sure and right.
I pulled away before things could get heated, and she let out a long, satisfied breath that turned into a yawn.
“Did I wear you out?”
“Maybe.” Her smile was soft, her eyelids heavy. “It’s been a long day.”
“Rest. I’ll go make sure Chantel hasn’t drowned in dirty dishes.” I left her curled on the couch, even though every step away from her felt like leaving something precious behind.
Something I didn’t ever want to be without.
But we weren’t there yet. Physically, we’d jumped from zero to sixty, with my body pushing for one hundred. But the rest needed time to catch up. Fuck, we hadn’t even been on a proper date.
The kitchen was quiet. Chantel wasn’t scrubbing dishes like I’d expected. The counter was a haphazard array of organized chaos, and she sat at the breakfast nook, staring at her phone with a frown.
“You know, you’re not doing yourself any favors.” I slid into the seat across from her. “You can’t act the way you did at dinner and then half-ass the cleanup.”
She looked up with an irritated sigh. “Whatever, Prince Charming. Not all of us are as socially gifted as you.”
“Don’t be jealous. I had years with nothing better to do than sharpen my people skills. Although, your patients might benefit if you worked on your bedside manner.”
Her frown didn’t lift. Only her eyes moved, rolling to the ceiling.
“The secret you’re keeping is making you cruel.” I held her gaze. “If you’re not careful, you’ll end up like Celeste. And they’ll figure it out eventually. I’m not sure why you’re still hiding it.”
Her jaw tightened. “You don’t know as much as you think.”
“I know you’re in love with Dylan. That much has been obvious for a long, long time. You could explain the rest.”
Her eyes squeezed shut and she shook her head. “Not until I’ve told Zadie. She’d never forgive me if I told you first. Hell, I’d never forgive myself.”
“Fair enough. When are you going to tell her?”
“I don’t know. None of this is as simple as it should be.” She rubbed her temples. “In the meantime, I’d appreciate you keeping your insights to yourself. I’d hate to have to admit you to my ER.”
“Your empty threats don’t scare me.” I laughed. “Besides, I know plenty, and I’ve kept all of it to myself. You can trust me.”
She studied me a moment, the furrow between her brows softening. “Are you taking Zadie home?”
“I rode my board here, so I was hoping to borrow your car. You can get a ride with Eric later.”
She waved her hand dramatically at the disaster surrounding her. “Have you seen this kitchen? I’ll be here until midnight.”
“I’ll help,” Eric offered from the doorway.
Chantel’s composure cracked. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to hear you admit you need help with this mess.” He smirked, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed.
“I admitted nothing.”
He raised an eyebrow. “So you don’t want a hand?”
“I didn’t say that.” The tension in her shoulders eased, and the anxious twist of her mouth gave way to something that almost resembled relief.
“Great. I’ll leave you two to it.” I stood and grabbed Chantel’s keys from the counter.
“Caleb.” Eric’s voice stopped me at the door. “I’m sorry about dinner.”
Good. He fucking should be. But I wasn’t going to say it out loud. I held his stare, waiting for him to give me something more.
“I was an asshole. The thought of you spending more time in that hospital…” He shook his head, emotion cracking through his rough veneer. “It doesn’t matter what I think. I just want you to be happy.”
“Volunteering makes him happy,” Chantel said.
“It does,” I agreed. “I can’t explain it. But it does.”
“Good.” Eric nodded. “That’s all I care about. I want my entire family to be happy.” His gaze drifted to Chantel, and I wondered how much more of our conversation he’d heard than he was letting on.
“On that note, I’m taking Zadie home.”
“I won’t be there until tomorrow,” Chantel called after me. “Or maybe the next day. Depends on how long this disaster takes.”
Eric chuckled. I left the two of them to figure out the dishes and whatever else needed sorting between them.
Zadie was asleep on the couch when I came back. Curled on her side, her shoes kicked off, one hand tucked under her cheek.
I crouched beside her and brushed a curl from her face. “Time to go home.”
She blinked up at me. “Did I miss something?”
“Nothing that can’t wait.” I helped her to her feet and kept her hand in mine.
She leaned into me as we walked to the door, her body warm and heavy with trust. And somewhere between the kitchen and the front hall, she whispered something so quiet I almost missed it.
“I think I’m ready to face my fear.”