Chapter 26
Hadley
The last day in the Bahamas felt like borrowed time.
Like the universe had given us a pause button and was politely reminding us it would expire soon.
The villa smelled like sunscreen, ocean salt, and fresh coffee drifting from the open kitchen. Every window was open, curtains lifting lazily with the breeze while waves hummed somewhere just beyond the cliffs.
Laughter echoed faintly from the pool where Malcolm was already being used as a jungle gym by the twins.
I sat at the breakfast island picking through mango slices and toast I wasn’t hungry for, one hand resting on my stomach like it had developed a permanent address there.
Cal surprised me when he leaned over my shoulder, stealing a piece of pineapple straight from my plate.
“I’m taking Malcolm shopping in Nassau,” he said casually, chewing.
“Need anything?”
I glanced up at him. Sunglasses pushed into his messy hair, sleep still clinging to his voice, faded band tee hanging loose on his shoulders. He looked… relaxed. Almost human.
I shook my head. “Just come back in one piece.”
Eli sat perfectly straight, headphones resting around his neck, carefully arranging pineapple chunks into a flawless grid pattern across his plate like he was building architecture instead of breakfast.
“Eli. You wanna come? There’s a music store. They’ve got pedals and cables.”
Eli’s fork paused mid-air. He looked up. “Guitar pedals?”
“Yeah. And maybe some Lego sets if you’re into that.”
Eli stared at him, processing. His eyes flicked briefly toward me, then back to Cal. He ran calculations in his head like he always did when faced with social decisions.
Eli considered for three full seconds. “Okay.”
Cal’s mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. “Cool. Be ready in twenty.”
They left twenty minutes later, Cal in sunglasses and a faded band tee, Eli with his backpack strapped tightly, headphones now around his ears but not turned on yet, his compromise for new environments.
Malcolm drove.
I stood by the front archway watching the SUV disappear through the iron gates.
The moment it vanished, the villa felt… quieter. Bigger. Emptier.
Eleanor found me on the terrace. She carried two mugs of herbal tea. Sat beside me without asking.
“He took Eli,” she said softly.
“Yeah.”
She handed me a mug. “That’s new.”
I sipped. Chamomile. Warm. “He’s trying.”
She stared at the pool. Water rippling in the breeze. “He was such a happy little boy, you know. Always singing. Always laughing. Even when Richard was strict, Cal would sneak into the music room and play piano until his fingers hurt.”
I waited.
“He was such a happy little boy,” she said quietly. “Always singing. Always laughing. He met Kei, Jake, Holland, and Sydney in elementary school. First grade. They were inseparable from the beginning.”
I listened carefully.
“They built forts together. Put on pretend concerts in our living room using wooden spoons as microphones. Sydney was the loudest. She always wanted attention. Even at six years old.”
She gave a sad smile.
“They stayed sweet through middle school. Sleepovers. Science fairs. Birthday parties. Then high school came… and teenage years hit like a storm.”
Her grip tightened around her mug.
“Then high school happened.” Her voice dropped. “He, Kei, Jake, Holland… and Sydney. They formed that band. Richard hated it. Called them bad influences. Said music was a hobby, not a future. He pushed Cal toward law school, internships, the safe path.”
She exhaled shakily. “Cal rebelled. Hard. Started staying out late. Coming home drunk. I covered for him every time. Told his father he was at a friend’s house studying. I couldn’t stand seeing him cry. He was my baby.”
“They became reckless. Rowdy. Sneaking out. Drinking. Parties every weekend. Sydney especially… she liked chaos. She thrived in it. I started seeing changes in her first. The way she encouraged them. The way she pushed Cal to test boundaries. I stopped liking her. I tried to separate them, but by then they were a unit. A pack. They’d chosen each other over everything else. ”
My stomach twisted. “You protected him.”
“I enabled him.” Tears welled. She didn’t wipe them. “Then… something happened. The five of them, Cal, Sydney, Kei, Jake, Holland, went to a festival in Mexico. They were supposed to be gone three days. They disappeared for three weeks.”
My breath stopped.
“Kidnapped,” she whispered. “Some local crew thought they could ransom rich kid and his friends. They were held in a warehouse. No food half the time. Threats. Worse things.” Her voice cracked.
“When the authorities found them… they were different. All of them. Cal came home silent. Wouldn’t look at me.
Wouldn’t talk about it. Just drank more.
Partied harder. Started using. Coke. Pills. Whatever shut it off.”
I felt cold despite the sun.
“They were… involved. Sexually. All five. During those weeks. And after. It never stopped. The group thing. The codependency. I knew. I saw the bruises, the marks, the way they looked at each other. I should have stopped it. Should have gotten them help. Therapy. Something. But I was terrified. Terrified of the shame. The stigma. What people would say about my son.”
She cried openly now. Quiet, shaking sobs.
“I should have intervened. Therapy. Rehabilitation. Anything. But I was terrified of the scandal. Of the shame. I convinced myself they’d grow out of it.”
My throat burned.
“They didn’t,” she whispered. “Cal started using drugs to numb everything. Alcohol. Pills. Coke. I watched my son fade while pretending it was rebellion instead of trauma.”
I stared at my tea. Mug shaking in my hands.
She reached for me. “Please don’t leave him after the baby comes. I see more of the old Cal in him when he’s with you. The way he looks at your stomach. The way he listens to Eli. He’s still in there. Somewhere.”
I set the mug down. Hard. Tea sloshed.
“I can’t carry his baggage, Eleanor.” My voice came out steady. Stronger than I felt. “I have Eli. I have this baby. I have my own trauma. I’ve spent my whole life surviving. I won’t spend the rest fixing someone who won’t fix himself.”
She flinched.
“I’m not leaving yet,” I continued. “But I’m not promising forever either. He has to want to heal. Not just for the baby. For him. And if he doesn’t… I will walk. With both kids. And I won’t look back.”
She cried harder. Nodded. “I know. I just… I love him.”
“So do I,” I said quietly. “That’s the problem.”
...
They came back in the afternoon. Eli ran to me first, eyes bright behind his glasses.
“Look!” He held up a bag. “Cal got me a distortion pedal. And Lego Technic. And new headphones with noise cancellation that’s better than mine. Thirty percent better frequency control.”
I knelt. “That’s amazing.”
Cal stood behind him. Holding another bag. Smaller.
Eli hugged me, quick, awkward, then ran inside to show Gina.
Cal stepped closer. “Got something for the kid too.”
He handed me the bag.
Inside: tiny onesies. Black with white lettering.
One said: “Future Headliner.”
Another: “Mom’s Favorite Mistake.”
A third: “Dad’s the Cool One.”
I burst out laughing, pressing them against my chest.
“These are ridiculous.”
He shrugged, scratching the back of his neck. “Figured we should establish brand identity early.”
I held one up against my stomach. The fabric barely bigger than my palm.
“They’re perfect,” I whispered.
He stared at me like he was memorizing the moment.
He shrugged. “Figured we should start the gender war early.”
“It’s a girl,” I said.
“Boy.”
“Girl.”
“She’s going to have attitude.”
“He’s going to have talent.”
“Or she’ll have both.”
He smiled faintly at that.
He pulled me into the room. Closed the door.
We sat on the bed together, shoulders touching, legs stretched out.
He kept pulling the onesies out one by one, smoothing them like they were fragile art pieces.
“See this one?” he said, holding up the headliner one. “That screams boy.”
I rolled my eyes. “It screams ego. Gender neutral.”
He laughed under his breath.
The quiet stretched comfortably between us.
Eventually he lay back, pulling me with him until my head rested against his chest.
His hand drifted instinctively to my stomach.
The baby kicked almost on cue.
He froze.
Then whispered, “Yeah, that’s my kid.”
I laughed softly.
“Possessive already?”
“Damn right.”
“See? This proves it’s a boy. Only boys are this cocky in the womb.”
I rolled my eyes. “She’s just strong-willed. Like me.”
He looked at me then. Really looked.
“I like that,” he said quietly.
My heart tripped.
We fell asleep like that, tangled together, my cheek against his heartbeat, his hand covering our baby like he was guarding something sacred.
It was the most peaceful nap I’d had in years.
Evening came. Dinner was quieter. Everyone tired from the week. After plates were cleared, Cal took my hand.
“Walk?”
We went to the beach. Same stretch. Moon higher tonight. Stars sharper.
We sat in the sand. He pulled me between his legs like last night. Arms around me. Chin on my shoulder.
We talked about nothing. The waves. Eli’s Lego obsession. Kylie’s fear of crabs. Malcolm’s terrible jokes.
Then silence.
He reached into his pocket. Pulled out a small velvet box.
My stomach dropped.
He opened it.
Not the cheap Vegas ring.
A thin gold band. Twenty-karat blue diamond solitaire. Simple. Stunning.
“I want to try,” he said. Voice rough. “For real. In real life. Not just here. Not just because of the baby.”
I stared at the ring.
“I’m not perfect,” he continued. “I’ll fuck up. I’m still learning how to feel again. How to say things. But I want this. Us. I want to make it real.”
My throat closed.
I thought of Eleanor’s tears. The warehouse. The drugs. Syd. The numbness.
“I’m scared,” I said.
“I know.”
“I’m scared of Syd. Of you putting everyone else first. Of me being the last person you think about when things get hard.”
He exhaled against my neck. “I know.”
“She still texts you.”
He stiffened. “I’ll block her. Today. Right now if you want.”
I turned in his arms. Looked at him.
“Words aren’t enough, Cal.”
“I know.” He took my left hand. Slid the old Vegas ring off. It felt lighter leaving.
He slid the new one on. Perfect fit.
“I promise,” he said. “I’ll be more present. From today. Sydney won’t be a problem. I’ll prove it.”
I stared at the diamond. Blue fire in the moonlight.
I sighed. Long. Heavy.
“Okay,” I whispered.
He kissed me then. Deep. Desperate. Grateful.
I kissed back.
But inside, quiet, steady, I kept one wall up.
Because promises were easy on a beach under stars.
Real life waited back in Beverly Hills.
And I wasn’t sure which version of Cal would come home with me.