Chapter 9 Caleb
CALEB
Monday morning, Nyah breezed into the office right at eight. I was in my office, but I heard the way she greeted Amy like nothing in the world was wrong.
“Good morning, Sunshine!” Bright, effortless. The kind of presence that made everyone else feel slightly off-balance by comparison.
Amy hadn’t been herself. I’d made her nervous for weeks. I’d noticed the tight set of her mouth and the nervous energy when I walked in and greeted her each morning.
The lilies arrived shortly after.
That part I knew for certain, because I’d ordered them myself and watched the delivery confirmation like a lunatic.
I imagined Nyah opening her office door and stopping short when the fragrance hit her. I pictured her standing there, confused, inspecting the card.
“Truce?”
I’d written that single word, hoping she would appreciate the gesture. I’d been away the previous week, and in my mind, I hoped the distance had softened things.
Minutes later, Nyah stormed into my office carrying the flowers like a weapon. She didn’t bother with pleasantries. Stopping in front of my desk, she demanded, “Did you put these on my desk?”
I leaned back in my chair, keeping my tone even. “No, I didn’t.”
The relief on her face was instantaneous.
“The delivery man did,” I added, unable to resist the grin. “Do you like them? Amy told me lilies are your favourite.”
She whacked the flowers onto my desk hard enough to make the pens jump. “What do you want, Caleb?”
I thought flowers might smooth things over. They always had before. I hadn’t counted on the sheer distrust in her eyes. The flowers hadn’t softened a damn thing. If anything, I think they’d insulted her.
“Like the card says,” I replied. “Truce?”
She leaned forward, palms pressing into my desk, invading my space in a way that would have intimidated anyone else.
“You forget that I’ve heard you apologize before.
And this doesn’t count as one.” She shoved the flowers toward me.
“As I said the last time I saw you, do not speak to me at all. We can co-exist without interaction. Anything you need from me can be conveyed through email. Clear?”
She didn’t wait for my response. The door slammed behind her, rattling the glass.
I sat there for a long moment, staring at the flowers as they’d personally betrayed me. I tried to understand where I went wrong. Did she think my sudden change of attitude was a game? A trick? Another manipulation?
When I walked into her office a short while later, she startled badly enough to prove she hadn’t heard me approach.
“How would you like me to apologize?” I asked.
She leaned back against her desk, hands clasped together, eyes narrowed in a way that made it clear she wasn’t impressed by words. “The best way would be to show me you mean it. I will believe it, and I may even accept it when I actually see a change in you. Now, excuse me, I have work to do.”
Without another word, I left.
I’d thought making up with Nyah would be easy. I’d done this dance before—appease an angry woman. Smile, charm, flowers—it always worked. I’d even gone to the trouble of finding out her favourite flowers. Surely that counted for something. Apparently not.
Even though the last couple of weeks had shown me exactly what people thought of me, the dream I’d had—being pushed off a cliff—had shaken me more than I cared to admit.
I’d woken up in a cold sweat afterward, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it might crack my ribs.
Even a couple of medicinal tequila shots hadn’t helped me get back to sleep.
A conversation with my father on Friday had made me realize just how ungrateful and pompous I’d been.
“You haven’t gone to the office the whole week,” he’d said, regarding me critically over the top of his glasses.
“Dad, I just can’t stand her,” I’d said, pacing his office like a caged animal.
“You don’t understand. She’s treating me like a child, restricting my access and blocking everything I try to do.
” I’d dropped into the chair opposite his desk and leaned forward, resting my head on my arms, suddenly exhausted.
He’d reached across the desk and taken my hand. “Son…”
I lifted my head, momentarily disoriented by the contrast of youth and age where our fingers met. He hadn’t done that since I was young. He’d been a much younger man the last time he’d done this, and the gesture hit me harder than any lecture could have.
“You have to walk before you run,” he’d said. “You have to learn before you can manage the hotel, and you have to understand procedures before you change them.”
I straightened in the chair, the words settling more heavily.
“It is not going to be easy,” he continued mellifluously, “but you have to try. Your mother and I have given you everything you ever asked for, but the world doesn’t work the same way.”
I found myself nodding at what my father said, even though part of me still wanted to argue.
“Nyah’s a good person. Give her a chance, son.” He patted my hand and smiled. “You’ll grow to like her. I promise.”
That conversation made me feel special in a way I hadn’t felt in years. I’d longed for a moment like that—for connection—for as long as I could remember. Walking out of his office, I was determined to make him proud.
I wanted to prove to my siblings that I was no longer the lazy, irresponsible person they remembered.
I wanted my friends to see I was more than just an open wallet for them to use.
And with the women I dated, I wanted to be more than a means to get noticed at five-star restaurants or rack up likes on Instagram.
For the first time, it wasn’t about appearances. I was going to make something of myself.
After leaving Nyah, I walked straight to see Elizabeth Collins, the Manager of Front Office and Reservations. “Hi, Elizabeth,” I said, sticking my hand out.
She immediately stood and shook it, her posture stiff with surprise.
“I’d like your help, if you have the time, to show me how Front Office operates.”
She took a small, shuffling step backward, clearly caught off guard. “Of course, I have the time, Mr. Evans. I… I’d be happy to.”
She took me around the department, introduced me to the staff, and showed me how to work the Cloudbeds booking system.
I pulled out a notebook and jotted down notes while she spoke, surprised by how much there was to remember.
When I asked whether I could work in Reception for a couple of days, her mouth fell open before she nodded her approval.
The disbelief on her face stung more than I thought it would, but I reminded myself I’d earned that reaction.
If I was going to make an effort to change, it meant starting from the bottom and working my way up. I wanted Nyah to see that I was genuinely trying—and if she saw it, I knew my father would notice too.
Georgia, the Front Desk shift manager, pinned a ‘Trainee’ badge onto my jacket.
The contrast wasn’t lost on me. After supervising a successful check-in, she left me alone to complete another while she took phone reservations.
My heart thumped the first time I did one solo, but when she returned an hour later and found that I’d checked several parties in and out without any issues, her impressed expression gave me a quiet surge of pride.
Later that day, while I was working at the front desk, I noticed Nyah walking through the lobby. She slowed when she saw me behind the reception desk.
I glanced up and met her eyes, smiling.
She didn’t smile back. Instead, she disappeared through the staff entrance into the admin offices.
I stayed focused on the guest in front of me and finished the check-in.
I didn’t know what Nyah made of any of it. I only knew that, for the first time in a long while, something about this felt right.