Chapter 19 Caleb
CALEB
Istood just outside Nyah’s office when I heard her squeal.
She was on the phone.
At first, I didn’t register the words—only the tone. Joy. Pure, unfiltered joy. Then her voice carried clearly through the slightly open door.
“Hi, baby. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow!”
My steps slowed, my hand hovering uselessly near the doorframe as I realized I was listening to something that had nothing to do with me—and yet, suddenly, everything to do with me.
“There are a lot of surprises tomorrow, sweetheart,” she continued, her voice warm. “I hope you like all of them. Now, just make sure you have your lunch and chew your food properly, okay?”
I frowned, my confusion growing.
“I love you too, baby.”
The words landed with a strange, hollow thud in my chest. Before I could fully process it, the call ended. Through the narrow gap in the doorway, I watched her close her eyes and clutch the phone to her chest, as if she were holding something precious, something irreplaceable.
I forced myself to move and walked in moments later, rubbing my hands together, trying to sound lighter than I felt. “Would you like to celebrate by going out for lunch with Dad and me?”
She opened her mouth to answer—but her phone rang again.
She glanced at the screen and excused herself.
I watched her expression change as she listened. Frustration replaced softness.
When she hung up, she sighed and chewed on the end of her pen.
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
“Yes, it will be,” she said absently. “I just have to figure out where to get a rental car. It’s a long weekend, and mine won’t be ready from its service check.
” She flipped through the hotel directory.
“Just as long as I meet the bus on time. Everything else can wait until I’ve got him back in my arms.”
The words landed like a punch, dragging a surge of jealousy through me before I could shut it down
“The… bus?” I asked.
She glanced up at me, fingers tapping a number into her phone. “Lucas’ bus. I’ve been miserable all summer, and tomorrow I’ll finally have him back.”
Lucas. The name echoed in my head like a warning bell.
I backed slowly toward the door, forcing a smile that felt brittle on my face. “That’s great,” I said. “I’m happy for you.”
So much for lunch. So much for champagne!
My father and I walked to the restaurant, a place designed for discretion, where business deals and family conversations coexisted behind crisp white tablecloths and low voices.
The ma?tre d’ greeted my father by name and guided us to a table tucked away from the windows, shielded from the hum of the lunch crowd.
As soon as we sat down, my father glanced around, scanning the room once more before his eyes returned to me.
“Where’s Nyah?” he asked casually. “I assumed she’d be joining us.”
The question caught me off guard. For a split second, my mind went blank, and then instinct took over. “She had a call she needed to take,” I said, reaching for the water glass. “Something operational.”
It wasn’t entirely untrue, which made it easier to say, but the twist of unease planted itself low in my stomach anyway. I didn’t like lying about her, even in small, harmless ways.
My father nodded slowly, considering this. Then he leaned back in his chair and smiled. “Well,” he said, “I suppose that’s good in a way. It means I can tell you first—before I tell her.”
Something in his tone snapped my attention into place. I straightened slightly. “Tell me what?”
He folded his hands together and looked at me with that familiar mix of authority and approval. “I’ve been thinking about your next step,” he said. “You’ll be starting work alongside Simon and Sophia at headquarters by the end of the month.”
I blinked. “That soon?”
He nodded, completely at ease. “Yes. You’ve learned everything you needed to here. You’ve proven yourself.” His mouth curved into a proud smile. “And frankly, your siblings need you now. You’ve done good work at the hotel, Caleb—exceptional work—but it’s time to move forward.”
I leaned back in my chair, absorbing it. Barely two months. I had walked into this place convinced I’d face resistance, maybe even failure, and instead I was being told I was finished—graduated, almost.
“And the hotel?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.
“Nyah can run it again on her own,” he said easily. “She always has. You were never meant to stay there permanently.”
Nyah. The name surfaced before I could stop it. I pictured her in her office, efficient and composed. I hadn’t thought about how my leaving would land with her. I hadn’t thought about whether it would matter at all.
My father reached across the table and patted my hand. “You should be proud of yourself. This transition wouldn’t have been possible without the discipline you’ve shown—without the way you’ve changed.”
I nodded, smiling when I was supposed to, but something inside me twisted.
Because for the first time since I’d arrived at the hotel, the idea of leaving didn’t feel like progress.
It felt like loss.
I returned to the hotel afterward. Nyah was busy when I passed her office, already buried in schedules and notes, and I told myself it was better that way.
Cleaner. Easier. I had no claim on her—no right to curiosity, let alone jealousy.
And yet, the idea that her life extended so fully beyond the walls of this hotel, that there were people who occupied spaces I never would… left me disconcerted.
I got into my car at the end of the day and shut the door harder than necessary. Of course, she had someone. Of course, there was another man in her life. What had I been thinking, imagining otherwise?
Pulling out of the parking lot, I spotted her standing on the sidewalk outside the hotel. Should I offer her a lift? I hesitated.
Lucas. The name pulsed in my mind, irrationally loud. Why was this bothering me so much? It wasn’t like we were dating. Still, the idea of her waiting for a bus felt wrong.
I honked.
She didn’t look up.
I leaned on the horn harder this time.
She startled, looked up, and then darted into the street, nearly getting clipped by a car.
My heart lurched. I jumped out and grabbed her shoulders. “What is the matter with you? Don’t you look before crossing the road?”
She blinked rapidly. “Why were you honking? I thought something was wrong.”
I closed my eyes briefly, collecting myself and letting her shoulders go. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m sorry I scared you. I just wanted to offer you a ride home since you didn’t have your car.”
“You made all that noise just to give me a ride?” she asked dryly, already opening the passenger door. “You could have just used the phone.”
She wasn’t wrong.
I flushed as I got back behind the wheel, painfully aware that calling her would have been simpler—and far less revealing. I drove her to the grocery store at her request while she talked animatedly about everything she needed to cook and bake.
Lucas this. Lucas that.
I dropped her off at her apartment and drove straight to my parents’ house, the name looping in my mind until it lost meaning altogether. Lucas. Loopers. Look-at-us. He sounded like a douchebag. I wondered how serious they were, and hated myself for wondering.
Dinner at my parents’ house had started to feel different, and I didn’t miss the shift.
I noticed it the moment I stepped through the door and wasn’t met with the usual polite distance, the barely concealed assessment of whether I would disappoint them again.
There were no guarded pauses, no brittle politeness stretched too thin.
One weekend, when Simon complained about one of the firm’s building contracts—a client insisting on a design that didn’t work structurally—my father listened patiently, nodding as he always did.
“If you want,” I said carefully, not pushing, “maybe I can help.”
Simon narrowed his eyes, the old reflex kicking in. “Help does not mean screwing their daughter.”
I snorted before I could stop myself. “Ha. Very funny.” Then, more seriously, “I meant I could take a quick look. Just suggest something.”
After lunch, he followed me into our father’s study. I pointed at the screen, walking him through the adjustment—remove the column, redistribute the load, open the space without compromising the structure.
“Huh,” Simon said finally, leaning closer. “I think you’re right.”
There it was—the reluctant admission.
He patted my back, quick and rough. “Well done, baby brother.”
It shouldn’t have mattered as much as it did, but it did.
A few days later, I had stopped by headquarters to see Sophia. “Bruce’s birthday is coming up,” I said after some small talk. “He’s been going on about a new set of golf clubs. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to get them, or if I should.”
She stared at me like I’d just spoken a foreign language. “I… wow.” She touched her throat. “Yes. You can get them. You know which ones he wants.”
Since I was there, I asked her to lunch.
Suspicion immediately flickered across her face. Narrowing her eyes, she pressed her lips. “What do you want, Caleb? You’ve never come to the office like this before, much less to discuss gift ideas.”
“I don’t want anything,” I said, slumping back in the chair and staring down at my hands. “I just wanted to have lunch with my sister.”
“Lunch? That’s all?”
“Actually, never mind,” I said, pushing back up to my feet. “I forgot, but I’ve got some things I need to catch up on.” And then I left her office.
She had probably thought I wanted money when all I was looking for was to enjoy her company.
Arriving home, I hugged Cooper and ruffled the fur on his neck. “Am I that bad? Do they think I’m that selfish?” I was trying to make things right between my siblings.
The next day, Sophia called me to set up a lunch date. Over a meal of burgers and milkshakes, she apologized for her terse manner, and the two of us chatted and bonded.
“Adam thinks it’s okay to correct his teacher’s grammar now that he is in grade two,” she said when I enquired about the kids.
“That must go down well. Amy will probably be worse, though. She starts next year, right?”
“Oh, she’s got Bruce dancing around to her tune already.” She laughed and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “They’re so delightful... most of the time!”
“I miss them,” I bit into a fry. “I can’t wait to see them on the weekend.”
She held my hand over the table. “It’s good to have you back.”
A sense of belonging lodged in my chest. I hadn’t realized I’d been starving for it until it was finally fed.
Over the next few weeks, Simon scowled less. He included me more. Dinner invitations followed. I stayed the night a couple of times at Simon’s and Sophia’s house. Conversations stretched long after the kids went to bed.
Lying awake one night in Simon’s guest room, a sense of peace filled me. This, I thought, is what it’s supposed to feel like.
Now, as we sat around the table, my father announced the airline contract the hotel had secured.
“You should have seen the presentation Caleb gave,” he said with pride, carving into his fish. “The representatives didn’t know what hit them. He even answered a question that he was not prepared for, and they were blown away by his quick calculation and fast response.”
I lifted my glass, but paused. “Nyah deserves credit for that.”
My father frowned.
“You didn’t see the paper she passed me?”
My mother smiled at me, eyes bright. “Still, it was your presentation that got the contract, darling.”
“She saved me,” I admitted. “I wouldn’t have landed it without her.”
Simon raised his glass. “Congratulations, baby brother. Welcome to the business.”
No sarcasm. No edge. Just acknowledgment.
Even the house help seemed to be singing a different tune. I had walked into their quarters one night after the rest of the family had departed to their rooms. They all stood up immediately, standing upright and nervously fumbling with their clothes.
“Sorry, sir. Is there something we can get you? Something that we can help you with?”
“Nothing. I don’t want anything.” I crossed and then uncrossed my arms, swallowed and cleared my throat.
“I just wanted to say I am sorry.” A weight lifted off my chest as I continued.
“I’m sorry for how I’ve behaved in the past and for how I treated each of you.
” After shaking their hands individually, I left their quarters with them staring at me, their mouths still hanging open.
Each time I came over after that, I was greeted with a warm and welcoming smile, something I hadn’t received previously. ‘Please’ and ‘thank you’ had become part of my daily vocabulary, which made my mother and father do a double-take.
“What has gotten into you?” my mother asked.
“Nothing, Mother,” I said, sipping coffee. “I learned that respect is supposed to be earned, not just handed out like candy.”
I apologized to Martina and Taylor, too.
Even though it was late, I offered sincere condolences for their loss.
“I’m sorry about the baby,” I said, handing Martina some flowers.
“I was insensitive and rude at that time. Please accept my apologies.” Her jaw dropped as I shook Taylor’s hand.
“If there is anything you need, please just let me know.” I handed them a new contract, which included a raise in their salaries.
The joy on their faces was something I hadn’t seen in years.
It made me feel good, and I realized that this was what I needed to feed my soul rather than the vacuous models I used to date.
Each time I arrived home, I placed my jacket on the hanger and put my dirty clothes in the laundry basket. That was after I greeted Martina first at the door. Who said a leopard doesn’t change its spots?
And yet—even as the warmth settled in, even as I felt recognized and finally, truly seen—a name pressed at the back of my mind.
Lucas.
He stayed there too, like an unwelcome shadow. I didn’t want him there. I didn’t want the intrusion, didn’t want the reminder that while my world was slowly falling into place, there was a part of Nyah’s life I had no claim to—no right to resent—and still couldn’t ignore.
I kept the date I’d arranged that evening but cut it short. I couldn’t focus. I kept comparing the woman across the table to Nyah—her voice, her presence, the way she listened.
Eventually, I stood. “I’m sorry, but something urgent has come up. I’ll drop you home.”
Driving afterward, my mind refused to settle. I missed a turn, exited the highway too early, and ended up on the wrong road entirely. Get out of my head, Nyah.
But she didn’t.
And neither did the unsettling realization that somewhere along the way, without intending to, without planning to, I had started wanting something I had no right to want at all.