“Significant is one word for it,” Eric growled, his blue eyes locked on his brother.
A wave of protectiveness surged through me, strong enough to nearly drive me out of my chair. Caleb was a grown man, but the way Eric was looking at him, like he’d done something reckless and unforgivable, made me want to put myself between them.
“I think it’s wonderful,” I said, my voice firmer than I intended. “The world doesn’t have enough people willing to give their time like that.”
Caleb’s hold on my knee turned to a death grip. Every muscle in his body was rigid as he held his brother’s stare.
Jamie rubbed her hand over her large belly. “This baby is making it impossible to enjoy a big meal. Solange, I couldn’t have done it without you.” She turned to her husband. “I think I need to lie down. Will you help me to our room?”
Eric stared at Caleb a moment longer before pushing his chair back. “Of course, beautiful. Whatever you need.” He turned to Solange as he stood. “Thank you for a wonderful meal, Tante Sol. I’ll tell Mom your stuffing is still better than hers.”
“Merci, Eric. Go take care of your wife. I’ll look after the girls. This little one could use a nap as well.” She lifted Mia from her highchair with practiced ease. “Right, chérie?”
Chairs scraped. Dishes were stacked. Jamie tried to help clear the table before Solange shooed her away with a stern look that reminded me so much of Chantel it was almost funny.
“I can clean up,” I offered.
“No.” Solange’s voice was firm. “My daughter can do it when she’s finished acting like an insolent child.”
The room emptied, and then Caleb and I were alone.
He turned in his seat, his entire body angling toward mine, and I did the same. His legs and his broad shoulders swallowed the space between us, but he didn’t pull back.
“And that is my family,” he said through a tight laugh. “Part of it, at least. Believe it or not, they’re the easy ones.”
“They’re a hell of a lot better than mine.”
He held my gaze with those brilliant blue eyes—steady, unwavering, and completely stripped of pretense. He was devastating. Hard muscle, soft hair, and an emotional depth that defied every assumption people made about him.
Caleb Alexander had dealt with some shit in his life. I might not have had all the details, but I knew it was significant.
Cancer was fucking significant.
And deep down, I knew it had made him who he was today. A man with a big smile and an even bigger heart. A man who saw the world as a place of possibility. A place of fucking hope.
Hope that was contagious.
“I’m sorry, Zadie.” His voice dropped low.
“For what? You’ve got nothing to apologize for.”
“I pushed too hard earlier. I don’t want you to feel cornered.”
“You didn’t corner me.” I blinked against the sting in my eyes. “You’ve been honest about what you want. That’s not pressure, Cal. That’s courage. I’m the one who keeps pulling you in only to shove you away again.”
“You probably should be sorry for that.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “Most women find me irresistible.”
The tears retreated, replaced by a laugh I couldn’t hold back. “With that modesty? I’m sure they’re lining up. You can have your pick.”
“I’ve already picked, Zadie.” The humor vanished. “I want you. Only you.”
“You have my attention. It’s just…”
“Just what?” He leaned forward, his arm landing on the table beside mine, his other hand finding the back of my chair. His legs boxed me in, and my pulse kicked hard.
I felt stripped bare. Every wall I’d built, every excuse I’d rehearsed, every reason I’d constructed to keep him at a distance—none of it held up when he looked at me like that.
“I’m scared.”
