“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” Caleb asks, glowering at me from across the table. “How do I know this isn’t some stunt you’re pulling to try to throw a wrench into what could be forming between me and Lauren?”
I scoff, resorting to using my voice again to hiss at him, “I literally just told you to text her back. I guess you’ll just have to take my word that I won’t interfere. Believe it or not, seeing her happy means more to me than giving in to my knee-jerk jealousy. I know you, Caleb. I know you’re the type of man that can see past her thorny exterior and get her to blossom again. I’m willing to let you fucking tear me to shreds every day if I have to, just to know that I’m making that sacrifice for her.”
He studies me a bit, likely searching for any sign that what I’ve just said to him is a lie. He won’t find one though. As much as it’ll tear me up inside, I’ll put on a brave face and deal with whatever jealousy I may feel if it means Lo finally finds some inner peace.
He sighs. “Okay. I’ll take the fucking job.”
“Yeah?”
He nods.
“Thank you.”
“Are you going to tell Lauren about us?” he asks me, a blond brow raised in question.
“No. Whether or not you do is up to you, but, like I said, I’m not about to interfere. If you want time to allow things to move forward without having the dark cloud of our past looming, then that’s your decision to make entirely.”
He nods again, picking at his cuticles. Finally, he signs, “I wasn’t sure if I was looking for anything serious with her—”
I rear back, nearly launching myself out of my chair. If hands could growl, mine would be doing just that right now as I cut him off abruptly, “Then fucking cut it off, Caleb. I’m serious. Do not fuck with her emotions.”
He scowls at me. “When she and I were talking on our date, she had indicated she wasn’t sure she was ready for anything super serious either.”
That’s fucking bullshit, but totally something Lauren would say, of course. She’s just too afraid to jump into the deep end at all. I know that woman like the back of my hand, however, and I know she isn’t one to just mess around with someone for funzies. If she’s putting in the mental effort to climb that hurdle and date, there’s for sure intention behind it—whether she’s even consciously aware of it or not.
Furthermore, I may not know the man in front of me nearly as well as I know her, but I sure as shit know he’s not a casual dater either. Caleb’s a diehard romantic. The self-assured kind, the type who knows what he wants and goes after it. Seeing him tell me he’s not sure if he’s ready for commitment? Unless something has changed drastically over the years, I’m calling that total hogwash, and I’d bet money on it.
“You both are full of shit, then,” I say out loud and very assuredly. “I will tell you this right now… you hurt her and every bit of the olive branch I just tossed you today gets doused in kerosene and goes up in a ball of flames. I’m not asking you to make up your mind right now about where you want things to go with her, but you should take it into consideration now when it comes to accepting this job offer today. You play with her, you pay with me.Capisce?”
Wow, okay. I didn’t even know I had it in me to go allGodfatheron his ass. I wriggle in my seat, puffing up my chest.
“Calm down, you watered-down Al Pacino,” Caleb rebuts with a sour look. “If you had let me finish in the first place, then you’d see that I was going to tell you that all it took was just that one night to see that my hesitation about getting back into dating was misguided. I think that keeping our history a secret from her would hurt her in the long run, if she were to find out on her own. I do plan on telling her at some point, but I appreciate you letting me be the one to do it.”
“Oh,” I huff, feeling the sting from having just been dressed down yet again by the same man who, back when we were going our separate ways, called me out on being too chickenshit for notspeaking up. Now? I’m beingthankedfor it. Makethatmake sense, please. Regardless, I need to swallow down the old hurt, I guess. Bygones being bygones and all that.
“Okay, then. Sorry I spoke over you before then,” I add.
“Yeah, and don’t do that if we do end up working together, please.”
I nod. “No, I know. I’m sorry. Really, I am. Can I tell Gannett you’ll take the job now?”
“Yes. I’ll try it on for size, but the second you make shit weird between us by bringing up the past, I’m out. I said I was through with you and your cowardly bullshit then, and I meant it.”
He has no fucking idea that I wasn’t just safeguarding my own self at the end of that last summer, when I told him we couldn’t continue long-distance. By cutting off any long-term emotional attachment from Caleb, I was protecting Lauren and our little family. I knew I wouldn’t be able to continue giving Caleb the time and attention he craved—which would probably have required more out of me, since it would be from afar—alongside my commitment to giving it my all to my life at home.
That promise I made to Lauren and Brody was, and always will be, my hard stop.
I know it won’t be easy, but—“I promise I won’t rehash the past.”
Caleb’s molars grind together as he glares at me. I can tell there’s a million more things he wants to add to that, but just like me, his hands remain still and silent, balled into fists on the tabletop. His primary means of communication are now markedly restrained. Part of me wants to ask about how he got that scar, why he can no longer speak aloud, but now I know that’s crossing an invisible boundary that’s been firmly drawn in the sand.
Whatever the reason, I know it must have killed off a part of his soul, because the Caleb I remember was a nonstop talker. There was never silence whenever I was with him. Never like this, and never this closed off and hardened. With the Caleb I used to know, there were always stories, laughter, and even singing. Lord, he was an excellent singer.
It’s hard for me to reconcile those memories of him with the glimpses I’ve seen of Caleb lately. A part of me mourns the loss, even though I know I have no right to mourn for such a thing. I stopped having that right as soon as I walked away all those years ago.
Gannett approaches our table, snapping me back to the present. “Hey, Marcus. Uh, I hate to break up whatever heart-to-heart is going on here, but I need to go pick up Tati and bring her to dance class,” he tells me before turning to Caleb. “I’m not big on formalities and paperwork and all that jazz. Why don’t you meet me down at the marina Monday at four AM if you want to see what a day on the boat is like before you make a decision? My boat is theLobsta Mobsta. If you don’t like it, no hard feelings, and I just go back on the hunt for someone else…”
Caleb signs, “I’ll be there.”
