Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
preston
The stairs in this house are out to get me.
Only this time, I’m at the very top step, gripping the banister, hanging on for dear life.
If I fall from here, I’ll land back in the basement, at the quiet sanctuary of my library, and possibly lie there with a concussion.
I was having a perfectly peaceful night, up until five minutes ago.
And frankly, the brain damage scenario beats walking into a humiliating confrontation with two women I shouldn’t be eavesdropping on.
I was done reading, heading to my room when I heard the door, followed by giggles and heels clicking against the hardwood.
I should’ve kept walking. Announced myself.
Instead, I stayed. Haven’t I learned this lesson earlier?
Mia told Callie to keep her voice down. That I might be sleeping. Another missed opportunity to show myself and be a decent human being. Missed my shot at that again when I inched closer to listen better.
To secrets. Private things.
Things you can’t unhear.
The kind that starts with “bang the awkward out of me” and spirals from there.
And Callie’s contributions? Those confessions alone will earn me multiple sessions of hypnosis, because they’re beyond what therapy can do for a person.
Now I’m glued to the wall, an overgrown, ethically compromised Spider-Man, praying I don’t sneeze or breathe too hard.
As I try to retreat, quietly and carefully, Callie says, “I’ll save you from hiring a man-whore to teach you how to fuck.”
That’s it. The end of whatever moral high ground I thought I still had. My breath catches in my throat. I don’t blink for a full ten seconds. I might be permanently stuck in this position: knee lifted, foot in the air.
But then Callie adds, “There’s nothing in your body that needs fixing,” and some of the tension goes out of me. I find my footing, unfortunately on a loose board, which betrays me with a loud creak.
Fuck.
Perfect timing though, because hell breaks loose in my living room, and I just roll with it. There’s a dramatic yelp, the unmistakable splash of something spilling, and Callie’s hysterical laughter trailing right behind it.
I panic-move, and another step up is all it takes. I stride in, doing my best impression of someone who hasn’t just been standing here being the dictionary definition of a creep.
Mia appears, breathless, heading back from the kitchen. She stops cold when she sees me. “Oh God. You’re awake.”
“I was reading downstairs,” I say, too fast and defensive, but she’s too flustered to notice.
She holds up the paper towel as if it explains everything. “I was just… Her drink… I need to clean the—”
“You don’t need to clean,” I say, stepping in and taking the roll from her hand. Our fingers brush. Hers are warm. “I’ve got it.”
I kneel beside the champagne-stained carpet, blotting as if I didn’t just hear every word of the most chaotic conversation of my adult life.
Behind me, Callie cackles on the floor, probably convinced she’s the star of tonight’s comedy special. Mia mutters something and helps her back onto the sofa.
“Time to call it a night,” I say, not looking at either of them. “Do you want to crash in Lily’s room?” I ask Callie.
“Noooo.” She shakes her head frantically. “No offense, but all those unicorns and fairies freak the hell out of me.”
“All right. I’ll drive you home, then.”
“Nah, just call me an Uber.”
“You sure?”
Callie smirks. “Yeah. You can track me through the app if your need for control gets too bad.”
Mia’s already heading to the kitchen again. “I’ll get you some water while you wait.”
Callie watches her go, then lowers her voice, just for me. “She’s a good one.”
I don’t say anything that can and will be used against me in the court of Calista Maverick.
Mia returns with a banana and the biggest drinking glass I own.
“Small sips until the car gets here,” she says, pressing it into Callie’s hand.
“And eat this. Before bed, not after you’ve passed out.
” She gets Calista sorted—water, sugar, orders her around with that quiet teacher calm—and one of the most stubborn women in the world complies. She might be a good nanny, after all.
“You working tomorrow?” I ask without thinking.
Callie levels me with a look. “Do you even know me?”
She’s not being dramatic—not this time. Work’s sacred for Callie. That’s why she’s on my team. And why she’s a rising star.
Mia tries to read the room, her gaze bouncing between us, until I add, “She’d never drink before a shift.”
Callie winks and clicks her tongue in agreement. “And that’s why he loves me,” she declares.
I do. She knows it. But I don’t say those words very often—unless it’s to Lily. Then I’m a goddamn jukebox stuck on the same track.
“April’s not the only one holding down the fort for you, you know?”
Oh, honey, I know. My chest tightens with the weight of everything I haven’t made clear enough to her. I’ve done a piss-poor job of showing her how much she means to Lily and me.
I press a kiss to her forehead and try to make it as clear as the breath between us.
“Callie, I’m not sure I’d even be here—sane and good enough for Lily—if it weren’t for you. Fuck the job. I’m grateful you’re my friend. Not my colleague.”
She beams. Not at me, at Mia. “He called me Callie. He never calls me that.”
Fantastic. Of everything I just said, that’s what she takes away from it.
“That’s because you stop listening the moment I cut your name in half.”
On cue, a horn blares outside.
“You sure you’re okay to ride alone?”
“Totally. I didn’t fall. Your nanny knocked me to the ground. I’m just tipsy, not flat-out drunk.”
“Thanks for tonight, Callie,” Mia says, giving her a hug. “I had a great time.”
“Aw, babes. Thank you. And thanks for the banana. Did you know they’re great for hango—”
“Because of the potassium. Yeah.”
Callie leans in and whispers, “Looks and smarts? Damn, Pres. Make a move soon, or you’ll have competition.” She lifts one brow in challenge.
Message received, Callie. Loud and clear.
She kisses us goodnight, and I walk her to the car. The driver is already waiting, and I open the door for her, but she just leans against it, arms folded on top, smirking up at me.
“Pres, wait.”
Oh, no. Nothing good will come of that.
I press a hand to the top of her head and guide her down into the seat—gentle, firm, and just patronizing enough to make my point. The night’s over.
“You never answered me before.”
I sigh. “About what?”
She raises her brows. Oh, great. I just failed the world’s easiest test.
“Did you thank April?”
She’s grinning now, snorting like a piglet, delighted with herself.
I nudge her leg next, still hanging out of the car. With my foot now and less patience. She finally sinks into her seat, but keeps the door open and the needling going.
“Seriously,” she says. “April really outdid herself, huh? Mia’s the total opposite of Blake. Just what you need in a rebound.”
My jaw locks. I try to stay neutral, but the flinch at my ex’s name gives me away.
I push through. “Mia’s not my rebound. She’s my daughter’s nanny.”
Why do I even bother? That reasoning would never be enough for Callie.
Her eyes glint with wicked delight. “Women are great multitaskers; I’ll have you know.”
I’m too tired for this. Whatever this is.
“Calista, the clock’s ticking. Driver’s waiting. Go home.”
She winks as she shuts the door. “Avoidance. That’s confirmation in my books, Pres. But that’s okay. You’ll spill it when you’re ready. I’ll be here.”
The car pulls away, and I can finally breathe. Even if the air tastes like exhaust and bad decisions.
I step back inside and I’m greeted with silence.
Which means Mia’s gone to bed.
Which also means I won’t be asking where I can drop my application to become her personal tutor slash man-whore.
Saved by the clock; damned for the rest of her stay.