Chapter 22 Caleb
Caleb
Wendell wakes me by licking my face. Maybe he’s finally starting to like me, or the sound of my phone buzzing is annoying him.
I forgot to set it to Do Not Disturb before falling asleep.
I’d been preoccupied with thoughts of Brooke and that floral nightgown as I fell asleep, and if the certain stiffness I’m experiencing is any indication, I was having similar thoughts while I slept.
I grab my phone from the nightstand. Notification after notification from Brooke. They’re about the Quincy wedding, but my mouth breaks into a smile at the thought of Brooke thinking about me before nine o’clock in the morning. Even if it is about work.
My thoughts of Brooke are interrupted.
Joey: Hey man, remember how you owe me a favor?
Caleb: Redeeming that already?
Joey: I need a sous this Saturday. Harold’s wife is in labor early, Gianna’s on vacation, and Garrett doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing.
Joey: You’re the only one I trust to help.
Caleb: I’m your third choice? Ouch.
Caleb: What are the chances of Garrett figuring out what he’s doing before Saturday? It’s my only weekend off all summer.
Joey: What if I told you a certain brunette wedding planner would be there?
Caleb: I don’t know what you’re talking about.
Joey: Nice try. After you rushed out the other night, Jordan filled me in.
Joey: C’mon, it was fun working together again.
Caleb: I’ll think about it.
Joey: See you Saturday!
Obviously I’m going to help Joey. Last weekend had been like the old days when we were both sweating our asses off working for Foley’s.
I miss having a partner to work with. I think he does, too.
Going out on his own is more demanding than he anticipated.
I also miss working with Dad. Getting away from town for a while was what I needed, but I worry I missed too much time working alongside him.
I’ve seen glimpses of Brooke in action already.
At the first Quincy meeting, the night of the burgers, that wedding she did with Joey at the beginning of the summer when I’d resisted the urge to dance with her.
Her clipboard energy is pretty fucking hot—I wouldn’t hate seeing more of it—and I want her to see me in my element.
Though Joey bossing me around isn’t exactly ideal.
Shit. He’s absolutely going to take full advantage of being head chef and having me as his sous.
Whatever, I’ll take it. I’m ready to give off all the yes, chef energy.
Caleb: Don’t tell her I’m going to be there
Joey: You don’t tell me what to do, sous. I tell you what to do.
Joey: (But you got it, man)
Caleb: I’m already regretting this.
Dad’s been back in the office more. It’s nice seeing him where he’s supposed to be.
His energy has been up lately and he’s been doing a little work.
Mostly administrative—the kitchen’s too chaotic—but the way he’s deep in documents with a smile on his face tells me he’s happy.
I tap my knuckles on the open door. “Hey, Dad.”
“Caleb!” he booms and pushes himself out of his chair.
“Don’t get up.” He doesn’t listen. I walk around the desk and give him a hug.
Lingering for longer than I used to. The summer schedule has kept me busy and away from my parents more than I would’ve liked, but they insisted I focus on work.
Get them through the summer catering schedule while Dad recovers.
Foley’s is everything to them. All he ever wanted was for me to follow in his footsteps and take over one day.
I should be grateful, but it was suffocating having my life planned out for me.
Even when I was accepted to culinary school, I wasn’t ready to fully agree to my parents’ plans, but they gave me the space I needed to figure it out.
When I started at the wedding venue out in San Francisco, it was for the experience Dad wanted me to have in order to take Foley’s to the next level.
What he didn’t know was that on my days off, I also worked at one of my instructor’s restaurants.
It was while working there that everything clicked.
It finally felt like I belonged in the kitchen.
Foley’s is where I grew up, but I wanted my own restaurant; a cozy place where people can gather and enjoy a good meal.
Right when I’d gathered up the nerve to tell my parents my idea, Mom called to tell me about Dad’s heart attack. It was time to come home.
“You’ve been busy here,” he says, shifting through papers on the desk.
Invoices and schedules I left for him last week.
His desk is a lot cleaner. Took me a full day and a few hundred dollars at the office supply store to organize the mess.
I even started a color-coded filing system that Brooke would approve of.
“Sure have,” I say. “Part of me thinks you had a heart attack just so you could get out of working this season.” I force a laugh. Making jokes is the only coping mechanism Dad and I can handle. “It’s been grueling here.”
“I may have booked a few extra events hoping this was the summer you’d be coming home,” Dad says with a wink.
“Thanks for that.”
“Are you surviving the Spencer women?” he asks, raising a brow.
“Something like that,” I say. “Haven’t had to deal with Judy much. I’m not used to sharing control, but Brooke is great. A perfectionist, but I’m getting used to it. We’re getting along well.” I look down in an attempt to hide the smile growing on my face.
“She has to be to survive her mother. I didn’t want to get into it in front of your mother.” He sighs, staring into space. It’s a look I know well. He’s choosing his words carefully. “Judy’s a bit of a narcissist, Caleb. And she’s done some pretty questionable things over the years.”
Dad’s far from a mental health professional, but as soon as he says it, the pieces fall into place.
Judy dismissing Brooke’s chronic migraines.
Judy making the broken engagement about her.
Judy pushing Brooke to be perfect in every way.
Whenever Brooke shows an ounce of autonomy or makes a mistake, it’s somehow a personal attack on Judy.
“What do you mean?” I want to know more from him about their dynamic. In those early days, Dad and Judy were building their businesses alongside each other. He saw a lot of Brooke. We saw a lot of Brooke.
Dad folds his hands together on the desk.
“I always felt bad for Brooke. Judy doted on her, it was sweet at first, but Brooke became Judy’s little doll.
Always dressed up, behaving like an angel, quiet when she was supposed to be quiet.
Performing for adults when Judy wanted, following her direction.
Your mother and I couldn’t understand it.
You were throwing tantrums, generally rowdy.
We chalked it up to the difference between girls and boys, but as time went on, I noticed Brooke walking on eggshells around Judy.
Reading the room and Judy’s mood, behaving accordingly when she was only a kid. ”
“I don’t remember any of this. I remember Mom watched Brooke a lot when you worked weddings with Judy.”
“Well, you were young yourself. Whenever I could, I’d bring you both home to our house. The poor girl needed a break. Remember what you two played the most?”
A memory pops into my head so suddenly it nearly takes my breath away: Me grabbing a toilet paper roll from the bathroom and wrapping it around Brooke to make a wedding dress. Arranging stuffed animals and action figures to be wedding guests. I laugh to myself. “We played wedding. Over and over.”
Shit, this goes further back than I realized. I’ve married Brooke Spencer dozens of times.
“You made your mother be the officiant,” he says.
“I remember.” I smile, remembering a young Brooke wearing Mom’s veil.
“Oh, she loved it. I’d get home and she’d tell me the vows you’d made up. It seems like she’s come out the other side. Judy’s a damn good wedding planner, I’ll admit that. Brooke is, too. I just hope she’s found some happiness. She’s had a hard year.”
“She told me about Kent.”
“I should have told you,” he says with a heavy sigh.
“Judy went around town swearing everyone to silence about it. For Brooke’s mental health, she said.
I’m sure it was good for her, but Judy never cared a lick about anyone’s mental health.
She made the whole thing about her. Asking everyone not bring it up to Brooke.
Meanwhile, she’d tell her sob story to anyone who would listen. ”
“That’s what Brooke said. I do think she’s happy, Dad. At least happy to not be married to Kent Chadwick.”
“I always hated that kid.”
I laugh. “Me too.”
There’s a tightness in my chest I can’t shake.
Different from the warm swelling ache I’ve grown accustomed to whenever I’m near Brooke.
Hell, whenever I think about her. This is tight and hot.
I’m white knuckling my way around the traffic circle on my way home.
And I’d like to tell the car with the please be patient, new driver sticker that just cut me off to fuck off.
I’m fucking angry.
Angry for Brooke. Furious with Judy. Upset with myself.
Brooke’s so smart, confident, capable. She works so hard to be the perfect daughter to Judy.
How could someone take advantage of her? How can her mother completely disregard a chronic condition? How can she make her daughter’s broken engagement all about her? How can Brooke continue to work for her? How does she not see it?
I’m home and parked, but my hand still grips the steering wheel with all my strength.
I have to channel this anger and frustration.
As soon as I enter the house, I grab Wendell’s leash and he comes running to the door.
We head toward the marina so I can try to make sense of things.
Running’s always cleared my head, but Wendell can’t keep up on his short legs so a walk will have to do.
I’m not sure what’s next for me after this summer, so much of it depends on Dad’s health. But I am sure of one thing: I’m spending the rest of this season making sure Brooke knows she’s absolutely remarkable.
Judy got into my head years ago. Our paths didn’t cross often, but when they did, she barely acknowledged my existence.
She sees me as the help. Someone beneath her.
The same way some clients do—never good enough to be part of their circles.
Pretty rich coming from someone else in the service industry, someone who started with nothing.
But Judy always saw herself, and therefore Brooke, as better than.
I thought I knew how much Brooke would do for her mom’s approval back then, but I didn’t know the half of it.
She’s not looking for approval, she’s looking for love.
She’d go so far as to marry someone she didn’t love because it made her mom happy.
She deserves so much more than that. She deserves unconditional love.
Telling myself Judy would never approve of me for her daughter is a mantra I’ve lived by for years. That only solidified when Jennifer’s dad berated me for dating his daughter. He’d caught us making out behind the paddle hut at the country club. Such a cliché.
I let that fear push Brooke away five years ago.
It wasn’t because I didn’t feel the same when she kissed me. God, I wanted to kiss her back. But I thought I wasn’t good enough for her. That I didn’t deserve her. Maybe I didn’t. Fuck, I did completely reject her. I pushed her away like a fucking coward.
Maybe I don’t deserve her now. Maybe she won’t let me in that way after I left her standing at the edge of the dance floor that night. But I see the way her cheeks fill with color when we’re together, and calling her “babe” feels right. She’s even stopped rolling her eyes whenever I say it.
Fuck it.
I’m still not perfect, but I’m going to make it my mission to be perfect for her.