Chapter Eight
Calypso
Standing with my hip against the bakery counter, I rub my hands down my face. It’s been a long day, and it’s only ten a.m.
After Liam came in for his morning coffee and pastry—the best part of the day, as much as I hate to admit—it went downhill from there.
I had a missed call and voicemail from an unknown number after he left just before seven.
Assuming it was a new customer, I played the voicemail on speaker.
Chuck, Juanita, and Ana were in the kitchen with me when Stefan’s voice rang through the air.
Of course one of the few mornings that it’s a full house in the kitchen is when Stefan had to call me.
“Calypso,” he said with a familiar superiority.
“We need to meet for dinner and talk like adults. That’s never been your strong suit, but now that I’m back in town, trying to create a life with Ruby, I won’t let you embarrass me.
And my ex-wife being seen with that… that brute is certainly a humiliation. Call me back, and do it soon.”
In the three years of him trying to reconnect with me, he has never called me. I changed my number the week our divorce was finalized, but knew it would be simple enough for him to get it when he wanted.
To answer Liam’s question about why I haven’t told Mia or the police: he hasn’t done anything.
I know enough about how hard it will be to get a protective order against him.
Nothing he has ever sent me was threatening in the least, just a fucking nuisance.
Updates on his life, jewelry I’d love to receive from anyone other than him, black dahlias (previously my favorite) on my birthday and Valentine’s Day, things a heartbroken lover would send the desire of his affections.
Outside of the office our divorce took place in, he always played the role of a scorned husband.
I was the young, wild woman who lured him in only to dispose of him later.
The town never believed it, and Mia saw firsthand what a load of shit it was, but it didn’t stop him from portraying me in such a cruel way.
That voicemail though…
It feels like the start of his old, jealous behaviors.
Chuck is so angry that I’m hiding in the front of the store where he knows better than to talk about Stefan.
He’s upset that I didn’t tell him Stefan was contacting me, and I understand that.
If one of my siblings were in this situation, or Lexi and our employees, I would want to know and shield them.
Hell, I wish I could save Ruby from this fate.
The thing is, I’m the oldest sister and it has always been my job to protect them—everyone really. I can handle Stefan too. I’ve done it since I was sixteen.
There’s this greasy pit in my gut telling me that maybe, for the first time, I can’t handle my ex-husband’s volatility on my own.
For two years after our divorce, Stefan left me alone. At least I thought so; maybe he looked into me and Brighter Daze, but he never bothered me. It was too good to be true, but I started to believe he’d let it be a clean exit.
I mean, that came after three years of a torturous divorce. Another one of his manipulative power moves—make sure I spend as much of the trust my dad left for me in his will. His parents paid for every God-awful hour of mediation and negotiations.
We didn’t even have that much to split, other than the house we owned together. He made it hell.
Then one night, on the anniversary of our divorce, we saw each other at The Siren’s Cove. He was entering the lounge after what I assume was a business meeting, and I was entering the elevator with a nameless man at my side.
I anticipated his letter that came two weeks after that.
There have been other men before Liam—my one-night stands and a few flings that lasted a couple months at most. None of them were serious, and I guess Stefan knew that.
Something about Liam pisses him off, though.
Unfortunately, it only makes me more attracted to Liam. If I was even an ounce less jaded, I’d give him a chance. A real one that exceeds only the physical aspects.
If I could go back in time and ask sixteen-year-old Calypso who she imagined herself marrying, Liam would have been pretty damn close to the fantasy.
Maybe with the skater boy haircut, but it was 2006, so that’s a given.
That would have been before I met Stefan and my desires slowly morphed into his, until it finally felt too suffocating.
At thirty-two years old, I am jaded. I can’t imagine that changing anytime soon.
I’ve felt off since hearing the voicemail.
I dropped a tray of cupcakes, made the wrong drink three times, and snapped at Gavin who is an angel of an employee and friend.
If we didn’t have multiple orders due tomorrow, including those cupcakes, I’d cash in one of my sick days that have piled up over the years.
Knowing I have to meet with Vivi and Grady to do cake testing this morning has my already fried nerves on high alert.
In a perfect world, I’d only feel joy and excitement for my baby sister.
But the closer we get to their wedding, the more it feels like the walls are closing in around me.
Stefan’s presence has created a dark cloud over my entire life in less than a week, and I despise that he still has even that much power over me.
Fixing myself a cup of lavender tea before going back to the kitchen, the bell above the door rings. I don’t bother looking up since it’s been a slow morning and Gavin is at the other register.
I feel his large, warm presence behind me before he says, “Hey.”
Swallowing down my lingering anxiety, I curse myself for finding an inkling of comfort in his low, gravelly timbre.
I turn around, holding the cup to my lips, and take a sip. “Back already? Have I accidentally caused a caffeine addiction?”
He shrugs and runs his eyes down my body. “Maybe, but coffee wouldn’t be my vice.”
I let out a dry breath, hoping it hides how much I love his attention. He’s straightforward, even when he’s attempting to be subtle.
He bites his lip and taps his fingers on the counter, looking boyish and endearing despite the tattoos visible from his rolled-up sleeves.
“I have a favor to ask,” he says slowly. “And it’s crazy—like, really stupid and ridiculous—but I hope you’ll at least hear me out.”
My eyebrows raise and I take a long drink of my tea. I’m on guard because who starts like that? Fucking weirdo.
I’m intrigued. I usually am when it comes to Liam Maddon.
“Will you not deny the rumors going around town?” All of my amusement drains from my body and Liam quickly adds, “Everyone thinks we’re dating.
Pippa hired me to start the studio’s renovations on two conditions.
I have to be done by the first week of December, and she’s trusting me because you trust me. ”
I raise one of my hands to my forehead. I don’t get migraines often, but today will be one of those miserable days after all.
“When did these rumors start?” I ask. Mentally, the last few days play through my mind, reel by reel like an old-school film spool.
“I think the farmer’s market,” Liam says casually.
He was probably cool as a fucking cucumber when Pippa threw this at him. Thank God she didn’t approach me first or she would have seen through every lie immediately.
Not Thank God.
It doesn’t matter if Pippa finds out we aren’t dating—it shouldn’t matter.
Letting out a sigh, I shake my head. “We had dinner together on Friday, then spent the entire morning together on Sunday. I introduced you to so many people.”
“As your friend,” he adds.
His effort is appreciated, but no. I grimace at the reminder, at how eager I must have looked to the town. All I wanted was a good laugh from the numerous stories I heard about Liam—and now I’ve ended up as one half of the town’s newest sweethearts.
“I’d never introduce someone as my boyfriend.
First of all, I hate that word. Second, I’m private, which is hard in a town like this.
” I leave out the part about how my siblings and I are treated like the entire town’s grandchildren because of their care for our mother.
“It’s pretty much what they’d expect me to do. ”
He nods, trying to follow along. “And Pippa said being Mia’s cousin doesn’t change her opinion of me, which I get. My cousins will always defend me. She does, however, trust your instincts about a person.”
I told Liam that I was enrolled at the dance studio for most of my childhood and adolescence, but I didn’t go into details about my relationship with Pippa; how close we are, years after I quit dancing.
Sometimes I feel closer to her than I do my own mother, but the guilt festers before I’d ever have the guts to admit that.
“And you… what? Want me to pretend to be your girlfriend?” I ask in disbelief.
He fakes a grimace. “You’re right, ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’ are out. We aren’t twelve.”
I snort. It’s exactly how I feel about calling someone that at my age.
More seriously, Liam sets his hands on the countertop and talks quietly. “You saw how the town remembers me, and it’s not wrong—I was a little shit. I would hate myself if I were any of them. But I really need someone to give me a break if I’m going to help my uncle.”
I nibble on my lip, thinking it over. Liam’s eyes catch on the plush, pink skin for a millisecond before he meets my gaze again, a new type of desperation swimming in the blue tides.
“The studio would be a huge project,” I ruefully admit.
There are three different stages, though one is much larger than the others. Each one has its own changing area, and there are five different practice studios, a concession area, main atrium, office areas, and a few other nooks and crannies.