Chapter Six
Liam
A soft pink touches Calypso’s cheeks, and it’s the first time I’ve seen her blush. It’s faint, but it’s there. She’s been flushed from arousal, which was the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen, but that was different.
Honey is something so mundane and simple, making her reaction extremely endearing.
“Uh,” she says and pulls herself together. Clearing her throat, she gives me a meaningful look. “Remember my ex-husband I told you about?”
I look back at him, equally as unimpressed as he is by me. She’s never mentioned him to me, but just like at the bar, it’s easy to play off my surprise.
The man in front of me is more shocking than learning Calypso was previously married.
Not only is he clearly a fucking prick, but he’s such a pretty boy.
I love nice things and am willing to drop some cash for them. That’s why I didn’t blink an eye at buying the earrings for Calypso, but it wasn’t for any sort of gain on my end. There’s a difference between expensive taste and this.
Her ex-husband has probably never scraped his knee, and spends longer on his hair than his current and former wife do. None of that is necessarily wrong, but when it’s paired with his obvious entitlement, it would be suffocating.
I mean, who the fuck wears a tailored suit to a farmer’s market on the pier? His gelled-back hair looks greasy and his eyes are beady, emphasizing the overall supercilious demeanor he carries himself with.
After spending only a few hours in her presence, I realize that Calypso will only accept being worshipped. I’ve gotten a peek of that today, seeing how easily she accepted my expensive gift, and acting as if it’s a privilege to hold her bags.
It fucking feels like one.
In bed, she liked being fucked hard but not rough.
Even when she was under me, she was always a little more in control than I was.
It was hot as hell. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her breathy demands and apparent disinterest in my pleasure, knowing it was inevitable, whereas hers needed to be worked for.
With one look, I know this dude has no interest in anything that doesn’t benefit him.
A lot of men are too stupid to realize the infinite rewards that come from making sure your partner is well-taken care of, emotionally and physically.
The young, sad woman standing meekly beside him only confirms my assumptions.
“Huh,” I finally say, as if that’s enough of an answer.
His glare falters for a second at my disinterest.
“This is Stefan,” Calypso says, offering me more information than I expected.
With a snotty upturn of his nose, he offers me a hand, like it’s muscle memory. “Stefan Prescott. And you are…”
Ignoring his hand, I slip mine a little further around Calypso’s back, making sure he sees me grab her hip protectively—possessively. She doesn’t move closer but also doesn’t flinch away from my touch.
Small wins.
“Liam Maddon,” I say.
I included my last name out of habit, but a deep sneer pulls across his features as his eyes flash to Calypso.
“Maddon?” he scoffs. “As in Mia Maddon?”
Neither of us answer. Calypso crosses her arms, now wearing the smug expression he was sporting seconds ago. I’m trying to figure out what my cousin has to do with any of this.
“You’re fucking your divorce lawyer’s brother?” he accuses.
It’s harder to hide my surprise this time. Calypso must have been one of Mia’s first clients. And if he were anyone else, I’d almost feel bad for Stefan. Respectfully, Mia is a fucking shark.
“Cousin, actually,” Calypso says smoothly.
I smirk down at her with a heated look that she matches with a saccharine smile—the cherry on top of this whole interaction.
I wish we were still fucking.
The familiarity from that look is enough to confirm any of Stefan’s suspicions. He’s stunned silent, scrutinizing me.
After a moment of tension, Calypso steps forward and my hand drops.
She closes the space between her ex-husband, and my hackles rise.
I tell myself it’s because I don’t trust him, but Calypso doesn’t look scared—only determined.
His slimy smile makes me want to fucking deck him right here on the pier.
“I’m Calypso,” she says in a softer voice than I’ve ever heard from her. “It’s nice to meet you.”
She doesn’t offer the young woman a hand but she smiles warmer than usual.
The young woman clears her throat and moves out from behind Stefan, but only by an inch. “I’m Ruby. Uh,” she stutters, “Ru-Ruby Harris.”
The name is fitting. She has prominent freckles and deep auburn hair that complement her green eyes nicely.
“Soon-to-be Prescott,” Stefan interjects and wraps an arm around her waist. She’s standing at his side, rather than a step behind him, for the first time.
Ignoring him, Calypso keeps her gaze fixed on Ruby. “Well, I own the bakery in town if you ever need anything.”
“She doesn’t,” Stefan sneers and steps in front of her.
Ruby shrinks back and I can see the muscles in Calypso’s body tensing. Tentatively, I grab her hand and pull her back, realizing if one of us is ever going to be arrested for punching a man, it will be her. It’s kind of hot, but I’ll save that thought for later.
“You are not welcome,” Calypso adds in a cold voice.
He lets out a deprecating laugh. “I’ll share the address with Ruby anyway.”
Ruby’s face falls when she looks up at him. Calypso must be a sensitive subject between them.
I can’t see her face, but her hand is still in mine, and she squeezes hard.
Something about her expression makes him smirk, suddenly looking like a predator playing with its food.
I’m about to pull her away from the line we’re standing in, but I hesitate.
I don’t know if Calypso would want to run away or have the last word.
Before she can make that decision for herself, he grabs Ruby’s hand and turns down the pier.
After a second, Calypso drops mine and meets my eye.
With her arms crossed and a hard stare, she says, “So, that’s my ex-husband.”
I nod, taking in her frustration. “He’s a prick.”
Her eyes move to me and the smallest of smiles cracks through. “Trust me, I know.”
There’s a few people in front of us, but no one else entered the line for agua frescas. In a quiet voice, I ask, “How long have you been divorced?”
She lets out a dry laugh. “It was five years at the end of March.”
Holding her eye contact, realization slowly washes over me. Amused, I ask, “Are you saying that I was just revenge?”
She shrugs, but her natural sassiness comes back as the tension melts from her. “You and the four men before you.”
Clutching my chest dramatically, I feign physical and emotional pain. “And here I thought I was special. At least tell me I was the best?”
Calypso shakes her head, but it’s not in denial. More like because I’m ridiculous, and possibly a little endearing.
“It’s okay,” I shrug and stuff my hands in my pockets. “My ego is big enough to know the truth.”
“You’re an idiot,” she says in a snarky tone. Calypso still has her arms wrapped tightly around her waist, but the coldness in her eyes is starting to melt with each breath she takes.
“I’ll be available next March,” I tease. “In case you need more assistance.”
“It wouldn’t really be a one-night stand if I did that.”
“No,” I agree. “But it would piss him off. You could even send him a picture of my O face.”
She’s fully fighting off a smile now, but it’s a sorry attempt. “Yours?”
We’re next in line. Before walking up to the register, I say, “Yeah, mine. He doesn’t deserve to see yours ever again… If he ever has.”
Calypso snickers, low and mischievous, but she doesn’t deny his lack of sexual prowess. It isn’t surprising to learn that he never made Calypso orgasm. Not around his cock or on his tongue—something I managed to do multiple times in one night.
After a moment, she adds, “You know, it was Mia’s idea.”
Slowly, I turn to look at her with raised eyebrows, but I’m not all that surprised by the confession. Like I said, Mia’s ruthless.
“She said after three years, it would be just as satisfying for her as it hopefully would be for me.”
“Sounds like something she’d say,” I admit and laugh.
Calypso smiles and walks up to order for both of us. Before I can pull my wallet out, she’s already using her phone to pay.
She hands me my drink and I say, “Thank you—I would have paid. But thank you.”
“I can afford two drinks, if not earrings,” she insists. “Especially when you’ve had to play the role of boyfriend more than once.”
“Doesn’t matter,” I say and take a sip. I’ve never had this flavor of agua fresca before, but it’s good as fuck.
We walk in silence for a few minutes, enjoying our drinks and the cool, salty breeze. The end of the pier is coming into view. Even with some of the booths overflowing onto the sidewalk, our time together is coming to an end.
Against my better judgement, I ask the question that has been rolling around since we left the last booth.
“Does he bother you?” I ask. “Your ex—Stefan. The way he talked about knowing Brighter Daze’s address felt weird.”
She side-eyes me before nodding. “He sends me mail once or twice a month. It may have been his attempt to rekindle at one point, but now it’s a delusional power move, I think.
Last week, he sent an invitation to their wedding,” she spits out.
“I truly couldn’t care less that he’s engaged to another woman. I just feel bad for her.”
I let out a low whistle. “She was young. I can’t imagine if one of my sisters were engaged to a man like that.” She takes a long sip of her drink but doesn’t say anything. How old was she when they got married? “Have you told Mia that he’s contacting you?”
“No,” she says quickly and firmly. “And you aren’t going to either.”
“Calypso, if he’s harassing you—”
“Bothering me, like a fly,” she says with exasperation. “Not anything more than that.”
We’ve stopped and are staring at each other now.
Both of our arms are crossed as we face down.
I’m stubborn and really don’t want to give in at this moment.
However, it’s Calypso’s life—I know I can’t do anything that she doesn’t want me to.
Pushing her boundaries, especially when we are getting to know each other, isn’t going to work in my favor either.
“Fine,” I say. “I won’t tell Mia, or anyone else.”
She waits but there’s nothing else to say. I’m being honest with her, and she has a new, sometimes clingy, friend who knows about her secret.
Finally, Calypso nods and we continue walking through the market. We’re not in a rush, despite the earlier tension. After half an hour, I’m hugging her outside of her little red car and watching her drive away.
Walking to my 4Runner, I’m already setting my morning alarm for an hour earlier, giving me enough time to stop by Brighter Daze for coffee before work.