Chapter 22
“We’re early.” Caleb checks his watch as we walk along the North Cove Marina at Brookfield Place, where a Serastra model is moored.
The spring sun glints off the Hudson River, making me squint as we pass the lineup of luxury yachts bobbing gently in their slips.
The Manhattan skyline rises behind us, glass buildings catching the morning light.
“You were the one who insisted we come check everything before meeting the decorator,” I remind him, adjusting my sunglasses. My hands brush against the gold hoops with diamond drops that Caleb gave me a week ago. The gift he had been planning to give at the restaurant the day Luis...
I shake my head, not wanting to dwell on the events of two weeks ago. The launch is in a few weeks, and Caleb wanted to see the decoration progress first-hand—so here we are. The polished teak of the dock gleams beneath our feet, and the salt-tinged breeze ruffles my hair.
He flashes me that smile, the one that makes my stomach flip and my pulse quicken. “I wanted to make sure we have time to fix anything that needs fixing.”
“Nothing’s going to need fixing, and even if it does, it’s the first week of April.
The launch isn’t until May. We have time.
” I hope I sound more confident than I feel.
This yacht launch is important. Our biggest event of the quarter.
The Serastra 70 stands out even among the other luxury vessels, its classic lines and gleaming hull representing millions in potential sales.
“Still.” He glances at his watch again. “The decorator won’t be here for another hour.
Want to grab coffee? There’s a place two blocks over.
Come on,” he says, and his hand finds the small of my back, guiding me away from the marina.
The touch sends warmth spreading through me. “You know you want your caffeine fix.”
He’s not wrong.
The coffee shop is one of those trendy Battery Park City establishments with exposed brick and Edison bulbs, the kind that charges fifteen dollars for a latte and makes you feel like you’re part of some exclusive club.
It’s warm inside, the smell of roasted beans and cinnamon wrapping around us like a blanket.
“By the way,” Caleb says as we step into line, "Ethan and Natalie found a kitten."
I blink at the sudden change in topic. “A kitten? When?”
“Yeah. Maybe last week, or the week before that? I don’t remember.
” He runs a hand through his hair, and I can’t help but notice how good he looks in his sky blue shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, his tie loose at the collar.
The black slacks fit him perfectly, and his sunglasses are pushed up into his hair.
“They’re looking after it now. Ethan’s been sleep deprived for the past week, which makes him even more cranky than usual. ”
I frown. “What about Natalie? She needs her rest.”
“She’s fine. Ethan’s handling most of it.”
“How old is the kitten?”
Caleb shrugs. “No idea. Can’t be more than a month old. More or less? I’m not exactly an expert on cats.” He makes a face. “They’re feeding it milk every couple of hours.”
“Every couple of hours?” I keep my voice level, but concern edges into it. “Natalie needs her sleep. Waking up like that isn’t good for her pregnancy.”
“Relax.” His hand touches my arm, a gentle pressure that somehow grounds me. “Ethan’s got it under control. He’s the one doing the night feedings.” I want to argue, but something in his expression stops me. There’s a softness there when he talks about his brother.
“He’s smitten with Natalie,” Caleb continues, his lips curving into a smile. “He didn’t want the kitten. But she did, so now he’s making damn sure that thing stays alive.” My heart does something stupid in my chest. Something warm and fluttery and completely inconvenient.
“Next,” the barista calls, and we step forward.
“I’ll have a caramel macchiato with extra whipped cream,” Caleb says, then glances at me. I open my mouth to order, but he continues before I can speak. “And a large black coffee, no sugar.”
I blink in surprise. “How did you—”
He winks at me. Actually winks. “I’ve memorized your order, Eve.”
My face burns. I’m in my early thirties, and I’m blushing like a teenager because this man remembered how I take my coffee.
I’m so flustered I can’t even form words, just stand there feeling my cheeks burn while he looks entirely too pleased with himself.
His gaze holds mine for a beat too long, and something warm unfurls in my chest.
We move to the side to wait for our drinks, and I busy myself by examining the display of coffee beans near the register. My eyes catch on a familiar label, and I do a double take. “Oh my god, they have Monterra Reserve.”
“The overpriced one you like?” Caleb leans over my shoulder to look, and I catch a hint of his cologne. Something woodsy and clean that makes me want to bury my face in his neck.
Focus, Eve.
“It’s not overpriced. It’s just... premium.” I reach for a bag, already calculating if I can justify the expense. At twenty-eight dollars a bag, it’s a splurge, but maybe for the office? It would be nice to have good coffee for once instead of the generic brand we usually stock.
Caleb’s hand covers mine, stopping me.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Saving you from spending too much on coffee.” He takes the bag from my hand and sets it back on the shelf.
Disappointment curls in my stomach. "I wasn't going to—”
“I already stocked the office kitchenette with it.”
I stare at him. “What?”
“Monterra Reserve.” He says it so casually, like he didn’t just tell me he bought the most expensive coffee in bulk. “Three bags. Figured that should last us a few weeks.”
“That’s…” I do the math in my head. Three bags with tax would be over ninety dollars. “Caleb, that’s a lot of money for coffee!”
He shrugs. “You like it. So I got it.”
“Why?” The question bursts out of me before I can stop it. “Why did you do that?”
He tilts his head, studying me with an expression I can’t quite read. “Why?” A slow smile spreads across his face. “I’m not allowed to spoil you?”
My face burns even hotter. I look away, unable to hold his gaze. “It’s your money,” I mutter. “Do what you want with it.” I look away, hiding the smile that threatens to break out.
The barista calls our order, breaking the moment.
Caleb grabs both cups, handing me mine. Our fingers brush, and even that small contact sends electricity up my arm.
We find a small table by the window with a partial view of the marina in the distance, and I wrap my hands around my coffee, letting the warmth seep into my palms. Outside, people rush past on the sidewalk, heading to their own destinations.
The city moves at its usual frantic pace, but in here, in this moment, everything feels slower.
There’s something different about Caleb lately I can’t quite place.
He’s changed since the whole showdown with Luis.
There’s an intensity to him now. He watches me when he thinks I won’t notice, picks up on little things about me even I don’t pay attention to.
It’s strange being the focus of this kind of attention—not the kind that wants something from you, but the kind that just wants to know you.
It’s unfamiliar territory, and I’m not sure what to make of it.
Ever since Luis’s arrest, I was sure Caleb would bring up ending our fake dating arrangement, but he’s not once brought it up.
Instead, he took me out to lunch and dinner last week to an upscale restaurant.
He got me flowers on our way home last Friday.
He spent half of Sunday fixing the leak in my sink before caving and calling a plumber.
He’s just… there. He’s started inserting himself into the tiny parts of my life, and it scares me.
What scares me more is how much I’ve come to like these intrusions.
A part of me dreads the moment when he decides it’s time to end our arrangement, to pull away from this intimacy we’ve built.
The truth is, these feelings for Caleb have been growing for weeks, maybe longer.
I just refused to acknowledge them. I’ve been falling for him gradually, with each small gesture, each moment of unexpected kindness.
He’s managed to charm his way into my heart when I wasn’t looking.
I’ve been fighting it, denying it, but I can’t anymore.
I have real feelings for Caleb Wilder, feelings that weren’t part of our deal.
I take a sip of my coffee, hoping it might clear my head or at least give me something to focus on besides the man sitting across from me. When I look up, I find Caleb watching me in a way that makes my pulse quicken. Has he been studying me this whole time while I’ve been lost in my thoughts?
Caleb clears his throat, his expression shifting to something more serious. “Have you heard back from your family?” The abrupt change of subject catches me off guard, but I’m grateful for it. Safer territory.
I grip my coffee cup a little tighter. “Rafael called to check up on me last Saturday.”
“Did you answer?”
I nod. “Yeah. I did.” The surprise in Caleb’s eyes makes me smile despite myself. “Don’t look so shocked. I can be mature when I want to be.”
“What did he say?”
“Asked how I was doing. If I was okay.” I take a sip of my coffee, letting the bitter taste ground me. “He sounded worried.”
“And Marco?”
I look down at my cup. “He’s called a few times, but I haven’t been able to pick up yet.” The unspoken question hangs in the air between us. Caleb doesn’t ask, but his eyes do.
“My mother hasn’t called,” I say finally, answering what he doesn’t say.
I try to smile, trying to hide the pain I know is visible in my eyes.
“It’s fine. I’m used to it. Not like I’m ready to forgive them anytime soon.
” I look out the window, watching the people pass by, each caught up in their own lives, their own dramas.