19. Cal
Chapter nineteen
Cal
Greyson wasn’t a chatty guy, but his silence was deafening.
Despite his attempt to join in the lighthearted ribbing in our sibling chat yesterday, it was hard to miss his pointed lack of response the minute Noelle was brought up.
Seriously, we’d all been friends once. Why couldn’t he get over himself?
It wasn’t his heart that got broken. If I could be the bigger person, why couldn’t he?
Because he lost something when she left.
Noelle was practically family. A sister. One of us.
He lost me, too. You were a mess he couldn’t fix. Because broken hearts didn’t work like that. A little duct tape and superglue wouldn’t fix the gaping wounds. I’d gone off the deep end for a few years, and Greyson hated not being able to fix something.
Maybe he has a point. That quiet voice of reason crept in. Greyson knew me better than anyone, but he didn’t know everything. Like that I’d been praying for this chance for years.
Lord, some wisdom right about now would be welcome.
But I had bigger problems than my broody brother at the moment.
“Cal, I’m so sorry,” Juliet whispered hoarsely over the phone. She sounded like a duck with laryngitis sucking on a cough lozenger, but I’d learned my lesson yesterday with the whole honey badger thing and wouldn’t tell her that.
“It’s okay, Jules. Rest up. I’ll get someone else to watch Khia.” Hanging up, I pinched the bridge of my nose and eyed the stove clock. I had seven minutes before I had to leave. Surely one of my other siblings could pinch-hit for me.
No. They could not.
After our family get-together on Sunday afternoon, the sickness had struck hard and swift by this drizzly Tuesday morning. Everyone was either sick like Juliet—a family that got sick together stayed together, as the saying went—or had prior commitments.
Six minutes.
Who else could I ask? Ruby, maybe? No, she’s working. Maybe Mrs. Gulliver’s offer still stood? Ha. I laughed out loud. I’d be better off letting Rosie Cotton play nanny for the day. Khia would definitely approve of that. Maybe the Darlings were on to something.
Five minutes.
I glanced out the broad front windows. Noelle.
Oh, boy. In the history of all my bad ideas (and there were many), this might take the cake. Never had I imagined I’d be asking my ex-fiancée to nanny my kid, but here we were.
We were friends.
Who had kissed.
And planned a wedding.
This was insane. But insane was my middle name because I was out of time and other viable options. I didn’t have her number, so we’d have to do this the old-fashioned way.
Four minutes.
No going back now. Grabbing Khia and her backpack, we hurried across the lawn.
The worst she could say was no, right?
Or maybe the worst she could say was yes.