Chapter Fourteen
Liam
The last few weeks have flown by in a blur.
Uncle Stanley makes an appearance at the store or job sites at least three times a week. The man is bored, and still a partial owner, so I leave him be. Aunt Willa can be the one to wrangle the old man back into the house because she’s the only one he’d listen to anyway.
No one is expecting him to wake up tomorrow and feel thirty years younger, as much as I wish it were possible.
The lack of stress and more time off has been good for him though.
He looks more alive, brighter. The light is back in his familiar blue eyes, which were dulled during our first meeting a few months ago.
There’s more color in his complexion, and he doesn’t look as sallow anymore.
The evidence of his age, and a life well-lived, are still apparent in his deep wrinkles and the silver streaks through his blonde hair. It’s a start.
Plus, he doesn’t bother anyone when he’s checking in.
Stanley doesn’t try to dictate the projects or undermine my instructions.
He’s quick to agree with my suggestions, and always asks my opinion before making any decisions with the crew members.
If anything, he’s there to help me, and the staff, better adjust to each other.
It’s been a small saving grace since we started work on Pippa’s studio.
After finalizing the renovation plans Calypso helped me with, the presentation and contract signing went smoothly with Pippa.
Not only that, she’s excited for the plans I’ve incorporated to push the studio into a more economical business.
There are a few adjustments that need to be made to fit her budget, like fewer solar panels to start in favor of upgrading the entire heating and cooling system.
The goal is to cut her costs where we can. Even though twenty panels can’t generate enough energy for the whole building, it will save her thousands of dollars each year. In the future, she ideally won’t need to go so long in between repairs.
Pippa has applied for a loan and a few grants that help small businesses take a more sustainable approach. She’s already been approved by one of them, and three other proposals are pending, so the budget could grow over the next month or two.
If there’s anything new I can bring to Maddon Construction and Hardware, it would be helping the company and Amada Beach move toward a more energy-efficient standard.
Calypso was surprised by that fact, which opened up a whole new conversation about how easily people judge others. Even us. Like when I assumed she wouldn’t have gone to Warped Tour because she was in ballet.
I’ve gotten a closer look into who she is, though we haven’t dived into anything particularly deep either.
She still doesn’t know I was engaged only a year and a half ago, and I have no idea what caused her divorce.
Stefan’s personality is more than enough, but what was the straw that broke the camel’s back? It’s easy to come up with hundreds of scenarios, each worse than the last. To Stefan’s very little credit, I think there are a few lines he wouldn’t cross. At least I hope so.
I haven’t asked Calypso—that’s something she needs to tell me on her own time.
He’s been aggravating as fuck over the last couple of weeks, though.
As I suspected he would, he called Calypso again a week after dress shopping.
She didn’t answer, and he didn’t leave a message this time.
I am surprised it took him that long considering how rumors are flying around town about us.
Other than a few flirty touches here and there, we don’t do anything other than spend time together. It’s somehow enough.
It has felt a little stagnant between us since the movies, but that was probably to be expected. Calypso always looks a little uncomfortable when wedding conversations come up; I figured she would need a distraction after an afternoon of dress shopping. I never expected her to admit that to me.
Things aren’t going backwards, so I’m taking it day by day.
There’s still a lot we don’t know about each other, or what either of us is actually open to at this time.
We haven’t made any moves to take things further—we haven’t even kissed since we started “dating.” A part of me thinks it is the biggest barrier between us but the thought could be coming from my dick. I try not to give it much merit.
Today, we’re making our weekly couple appearance at the Summer Bash Farmer’s Market. According to Calypso, it’s the biggest summer event in Amada Beach. I remember the Fourth of July Block Party being the event to come out for, but that hasn’t been the case for a few years, I guess.
There are even more vendors out than the previous weeks. It spreads down to The Loop, the lot where local food trucks line up and have seating areas. There’s live music at the end of the pier as well as at The Loop.
Calypso and I have been walking around for two hours and haven’t even made it halfway through the market.
We’re meeting up with her siblings, Lucas, and the rest of the group later.
The group.
Having new friendships, outside of her and my cousins, has been great.
I have a lot less free time than I did at the beginning of summer, and that feels more normal for me.
It makes me feel like a schoolboy going into a new class but I’m rolling with it.
Just like everything else that involves the fiery siren next to me.
“There you two are!” Miss Willow waves us over.
With a hand on Calypso’s lower back, I follow her toward the older woman. She’s been the friendliest to me, and I now know she’s Pippa’s mom.
The small town charm is hard to ignore.
“Hey, Miss Willow,” Calypso greets her and starts assessing the day’s inventory.
Not waiting for her to check out, Miss Willow hands me a cotton tote bag and I hold it open for Calypso. These routines aren’t something I ever thought I would want—I started to resent them with my ex—but they’re not suffocating with her. It adds excitement to my weeks.
“Are you kids staying for the drone show tonight?” Miss Willow asks in excitement. “All the girls are bringing out their pups. It’s so exciting.”
There was a town council meeting after the Fourth of July and someone brought up the hazards of fireworks. I didn’t attend the meeting but I was with the cause.
Not only is the noise harmful for animals and people with PTSD, but fireworks are so fucking bad for the environment. Between the temporary (but impactful) air pollution, water contamination, and the annual wildfires, there are more than enough reasons for any person to be firmly anti-fireworks.
Chuckling, I say, “Maybe I should bring my dog.”
Calypso’s head whips toward me. Maybe we’ve never talked about Rosie, my long-haired dachshund, but she looks truly repulsed by me for the first time. She shakes it off before Miss Willow questions anything.
“You should, dear! Bring ‘em over if you decide to,” she says in excitement.
Cutting in, Calypso quickly checks out and we turn down the aisle again.
“You have a dog?” she asks, leaning back repulsed by the possibility. “You should have mentioned that.”
I look down at her with a quirked brow. “Why?”
“Liam,” she dramatically sighs out and shakes her head. “I would never date a man who has a pet.”
“Unfortunately for you, honey,” I say smoothly and wrap an arm around her shoulders. She holds my waist, leaning into me. “We’re on track to fall in love, and I’ll drive us out into the sunset. In your car, of course.”
Her head falls back and she laughs. Not her normal, teasing snicker; one of her rare belly laughs. It’s cute as fuck.
“You’re really just in this for the car.” She pinches my side.
I shake my head and whisper in her ear, “I’ll take whatever you’ll give me—happy to even beg for it.”
She looks up at me coyly, a flirtatious retort on the tip of her tongue when someone runs into her shoulder. Hard.
There’s way too much force for it to be an accident, even in these crowds.
“Fuck,” she mutters and turns into my chest.
She’s okay—I know she is. There won’t even be a bruise.
It doesn’t stop me from turning around. I see red when I do.
Ruby’s gripping Stefan’s hand, looking back at us with a guilty expression. Her fiancé is pushing forward, but I grab the back of his polo before he gets further.
“Liam,” Calypso says, but she doesn’t try to hold me back.
“What the fuck?” Stefan grumbles, surprised by the altercation.
Fucking coward.
I turn him around, standing in the middle of the aisle. I’m not going to hit him—no matter how badly I want to—but he seems like the type of man who cares about his image. Mine already kind of sucks around here, and I’d run it into the ground again for Calypso’s sake.
“Don’t touch her,” I say. My fist is bunched into the front of his polo now. “Ever again.”
He scoffs. “I can do whatever I want when it comes to my ex-wife.”
“She’s not a piece of property you sold and can barter back, you fucking prick,” I spit out.
He rolls his eyes but doesn’t deny my words. Ruby is watching the entire interaction with an expression that falls by the second. She’s a sad, lost puppy who wandered into the worst yard possible.
Pushing my chest away, Stefan says, “I wouldn’t call it bartering when she’s been coming back since she was sixteen. If anything, I’d call it charity.”
I blink once. Twice. Three times.
It’s not the implication that Calypso still wants him that has me so fired up. I don’t believe that for a fucking second.
Calypso once mentioned that he’s six years older than her, and that Ruby is only a few years older than she was. I stupidly gave him too much credit, assuming she meant the age when they met—not when they fucking got married. Now, I’m doing the math, and it has my stomach roiling.
He met her when he was twenty-two and she was still in high school?
It doesn’t change anything that I feel about Calypso, other than that growing need to protect her, but it changes everything about Stefan. She was a kid when they met.
Between the loss of her father and falling for the devil, did Calypso ever really get to be one to begin with?
I’m speechless as I stare, seething, at Stefan in front of me. Blood throbs in my ears and I don’t think I can hold myself back this time. Stefan must see it on my face because the moment I tighten my fist, he turns on his heel.
This time, Calypso reaches out for me and pulls my arm into her chest. In the second I take to make sure she’s okay, Stefan is already gone in the crowd. Even Ruby’s bright hair is lost in the thick mass of people.
“Don’t,” Calypso commands me, tightly gripping my wrist. It’s quiet but mighty—fierce, just like her.
Looking down, I close my eyes and shake my head. “I need a good reason not to, honey.”
She scoffs. “Because he doesn’t matter.”
I look at her with pained eyes. “You were sixteen, Calypso.”
She pales, realizing what set me over the edge. “When we met—not when we dated,” she whispers, glancing around. We’re in the middle of the aisle but I still have half a mind to find him.
“Can you honestly say it was always innocent?”
Her glare hardens but she avoids my question. “Then stay because I’m asking you to.”
Fuck, she’s got me there.
Taking a deep breath, I try to relax my muscles but take one more hard look down the pier, hoping he might come back for round two.
“Liam.” Calypso draws it out, almost sounding like a plea. That gives me the strength to let it go—for now. Hearing her beg me for anything only breaks my heart. I’d rather be the one on my knees for her in every situation.
She grips my jaw, forcing my attention back to her. “I don’t want this to turn into a scene. Not here—not today.”
The farmer’s market is Calypso’s favorite part of her week. It’s become mine too.
“Plus… you’re too pretty to be arrested,” she teases, repeating my sentiment from the night we met. “Especially in these shorts.” She tugs on one of my pockets.
Stefan is going to be around more, even if I’d love to imagine otherwise. Right now, Calypso’s honey-brown eyes that are filled with affection are the only thing I want to focus on.
My hand trails up her neck and rests on the nape of her neck. “You’re okay?”
She rolls her eyes but it’s more for show. “I won’t be if he ruins the rest of my day.”
Sundays are her favorite.
I slip my hand in hers, unsure of this new territory, but hand holding feels good, right, after the moment we just had. She interlaces our fingers and pulls me to a better part of the day.