Chapter 28 Caleb
Caleb
So we’re at the Market kitchen with Dad micromanaging each step. He’s enjoying every second of it. I’m trying to focus and not give him anything to comment on, but that’s proving difficult when all I can think about is Brooke.
Leaving her house this morning was agonizing. But last night was heaven. By the time we got around to leaving the bedroom, dinner was unsalvageable. Some chef I am.
“Hungry?” I asked her, looking at the eggs and bacon on the counter.
“Starving,” she said, giving me a sly smile, her cheeks turning pink. She’d put on an oversized white t-shirt and pink-striped boxer shorts. No bra under the thin fabric of her shirt. I don’t know what I did to deserve that.
“Are you blushing, Spencer?” I teased, letting out a laugh. She buried her face in her hands.
“Yes, you are!” I pulled her close. She fit so perfectly against me. When I held her then. When we were in bed. I traced the freckles on her face with my thumb. “What are you blushing about?”
“Shut up.” She smacked my arm. “I don’t know…I…I haven’t done anything like that in my kitchen before. Barely even made out in here.”
All I hear is made out and kitchen. Before I could hear any more about anyone else touching her in this kitchen, I kissed her soft, swollen lips. I felt her smile against my mouth and her pert nipples against my chest.
“Babe,” I said. I meant it sincerely, that term of endearment was now all hers. “You’re about to do a lot in this kitchen that you’ve never done before.”
“Oh?” she said, biting her lip.
“Yes.” I kissed her forehead. “Like learn how to make scrambled eggs and bacon.”
She smirked. “And after that?”
“I have some ideas.” And I did. A lot of them.
“Like what?”
“Well,” I whispered in her ear, skimming my fingers across the waistband of her shorts. “For starters, I haven’t gotten to taste you yet.”
She dropped her face into her hands and groaned sweetly.
“C’mon, time for food,” I said.
Cooking with Brooke was a…disaster might be too harsh, but she certainly would have been berated by a culinary instructor.
We lost four eggs to cracking mishaps, and there was nearly a small grease fire with the bacon.
After that, I gently suggested she set the table.
We’ll start smaller next time—how to boil water small.
Or I’ll just cook for her all the time. Nothing would make me happier.
But my daydreaming about all the things I want to cook for Brooke is interrupted.
I hear her before I see her. “Caleb Foley!”
I raise my brows at Dad across the table.
“Hello, Maddie,” I glance sidelong toward the bakery counter. Ali, our bakery apprentice, blocks Maddie from getting into the kitchen. “You can let her back, Ali.”
“See,” Maddie huffs at Ali. “I do know him.”
Dad chuckles as Maddie stomps into the kitchen, her hands in fists at her sides. I swear she’s about to walk right up to me and slap me in my face until Dad clears his throat. She stops in her tracks.
“Maddie, this is my dad, Paul Foley. Dad, this is Maddie, Brooke’s best friend and Spencer Soirees planner.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Foley,” she says tersely, shaking his hand before shifting her gaze back to me. “We need to talk. About you know who…” She looks at Dad. Like he’d ever miss this. She doesn’t know enough about Paul Foley. I give him a shrug.
“It’s been quite some time since we’ve had a wedding planner waltz in here on a mission.
I’m intrigued,” Dad says. It’s been decades.
I think about Judy waltzing into the old location and how different Brooke is from her mom—her opposite in almost every way.
I have no right to feel it, but pride grows in my chest. For all she’s been through, Brooke’s kind, smart, beautiful, and so much more.
And for some baffling reason, she likes me.
“I’m talking about…” She glances at Dad again before covering her mouth with her hand. “Brooke.”
“You can say whatever you need to say in front of him.”
“Ugh, fine…” she says, literally stomping one foot. She blows out a breath and points a finger at me. “Caleb Foley, if you break her heart again, I vow to murder you in your sleep with your own chef’s knife and then…”
Dad’s chortle interrupts what’s obviously a prepared speech. He slaps his hand hard on the table, causing some of the Crabbie triangles to bounce on the baking sheet. Good! I can blame whatever issue he has with this batch on him.
“I think I like you, Maddie,” he says. “Please, continue.”
“She’s my best friend, and I had to pick up the pieces last time.
It took her forever to move on. Then Judy set her up with Kent and you know the rest. She’s been through a fucking lot.
She has to deal with having Judy for a mother and is blind to how that affects her.
So, if you aren’t all in, get out. Because while I won’t hesitate to help put her back together, I don’t think she can take it.
” She turns to Dad. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way, Mr. Foley.
I know you hate Brooke and her mom, but I cannot stand by and watch Brooke get hurt again. ”
“Maddie, I can assure you that we don’t hate Brooke or her mother.
Judy and I have our issues, and I tried my best to watch out for Brooke.
Most of what you’ve heard has come from Judy.
I’d keep that in mind since you already know what she’s like.
I’ve had my suspicions about how Caleb felt about Brooke for a long time.
I’m not surprised by it. In fact, I’m delighted. ”
“Oh,” Maddie says, clearly surprised.
“Brooke’s lucky to have a friend like you, Maddie.” He looks away from her and his eyes land on me. He’s grinning ear to ear. “And I agree with you, if he breaks her heart, he’ll have hell to pay. Not just from you. I’ve got a chef’s knife of my own, you know.”
Jesus Christ. I throw up my hands in defeat.
“Maddie,” I say. “I have no intention of breaking her heart. I promise.”
Maddie looks lost. She was obviously expecting more of a fight. “Okay, good.” She eyes the knife roll on the table. “Because those are some good-looking knives, and I’d hate to ruin one of them.”
I push the knife roll down the table, away from her. I don’t doubt for one second that Maddie would commit assault with a deadly weapon on behalf of a scorned friend.
Dad chuckles when I return from walking Maddie out. He’s enjoying this far too much. But if I know him, I’m also in for a lecture. He doesn’t take hurting anyone, especially women, lightly.
“What are you laughing at?”
“Oh, the drama of being young. Though you’re not as young as you were when you first hurt Brooke. Are you all in, son? You’ve only been back home since June. Things are moving fast.”
“I think…I think I’ve been all in for a while. I just wasn’t ready.”
“Ah, I see,” he says, waiting for me to say more, but I don’t. “And you’re ready to face the wrath of Judy?”
“I think I am, but I don’t know. She’s never been fond of me.”
“Caleb, I know you’ve struggled sometimes with what we do. Thinking folks look at us like—”
“The help,” I say. “Yeah, it pisses me off.”
“We are the help, son. It’s not a bad thing.
It’s the most precious gift. We help with the happiest moments, the weddings, birthdays, and graduations.
They come to us when they’ve brought home a new baby or when they’re visiting a loved one in the hospital.
We help the most devastating moments too, the funerals and celebrations of life.
And the small moments, when they’re having a bad day and need comfort, or received good news and want to celebrate.
We help them through the milestones of life.
It’s a privilege. I’m sorry I haven’t imparted that on you enough.
I’m proud of the work we do here. I hope you are too. ”
There’s a stinging in my nose. I blink it away.
“Dad, I’m sorry, I never meant—”
“I know, Caleb, I know. I’m proud of you. All you’ve done and all you’re going to do. With this Times piece, you’re going to be ready for what’s to come. Now redo those Crabbies. They look awful.” He stands up and is out of the kitchen before I can find any more words.
I spend the rest of the afternoon perfecting Crabbies.
With one pinch of salt more than the recipe calls for, I finally get an almost perfect batch.
Before I leave for the day, I grab some of the prepared items that Mom mentioned Mr. Edwards likes to drop off to him before going to Brooke’s.
Whatever kind of day he’s having, I can help.