Page 97 of Miss Fortune

Caleb

Daisy was quiet on Sunday morning as we packed up the baby’s things and loaded them into my truck. She might put up a brave front, but I knew how attached she was to the baby. Hell, so was I.

When the text came in from Tabitha’s brother letting us know they were home, I sighed, realizing it was time to go.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, and then maybe we can get lunch.” Anything to put a smile on her face.

But she shook her head, putting the baby into the carrier and buckling him in. “Thanks, but it’s time I go home. Will you text me and let me know how it went?”

I was about to argue, hoping she’d stay, especially after last night. We had some unresolved matters to deal with, the two of us. But she deserved a chance to get some sleep. “Yes. Of course.”

The drop-off was uneventful. Tabitha even held the baby before I left. I told her brother to call me if there were any issues before making my way home.

My steps were heavy on the way into my empty house. There should be relief to be coming home to peace and quiet, no feeding schedule, sleepless nights, or disruption of my routine. But during the unexpected last few days, I hadn’t minded the chaos. In fact, instead of using this Sunday to prepare for the new workweek, I found myself lonely. I especially missed Daisy being here.

Pacing my floors, I envisioned her everywhere in my space. Although the baby had never been ours, he had given me a glimpse into what a future could represent, and suddenly I could imagine nothing else.

I took out my phone to text Daisy and stopped. Nope, these words belonged face-to-face. Once I was at her building, I went straight up to her apartment. I knocked, waited, then knocked again.

When she opened the door, my stomach immediately dropped. Shit, her puffy eyes and red splotchy face were a giveaway as to her state of mind.

“I’m doing better than my face says I am.”

Leave it to her to make me laugh. “Come here.” I pulled her into my embrace, feeling a hundred times better now that I was holding her.

“How did it go?”

“Tabitha was holding him when I left. She said she appreciated the notes on his schedule and feedings and, of course, everything you did.”

She sighed. “Her holding him is a good sign.” She broke away and walked into her apartment while I shut her front door. “I’m surprised to see you here. I would’ve thought you’d be enjoying some peace and quiet at the house.”

I wiped my hands against the front of my jeans. Jesus, was I sweating from nerves? “Yeah, well, that’s the thing.”

She turned to face me, cocking her head to the side. “What’s the thing?”

“I missed you already.”

She smiled. “You did?”

I hated she was so surprised. “Yes. And you know I love you.”

She shook her head. “Actually, it’s the first time you’ve said it.”

No. Couldn’t be. “I said it the night you did. Didn’t I?”

“No, you said you felt the same, but you didn’t say I love you.”

Great. I was already screwing this up. “Stellar start to this conversation. I’m sorry.”

She moved forward, taking my hands. “Caleb, there’s no wrong way to say I love you. Unless, of course, there’s a big ‘but’ after the words.”

I shook my head, smiling. “There’s no ‘but.’ I’ve been doing some soul-searching since you left for Seattle. I’ve closed myself off to a relationship because I’ve been afraid of letting someone in again and having them judge me. I’ve walked on eggshells around others because I’m afraid they’d see the real me, but you’ve always seen me. And you’ve never judged. Not even now when I can’t quite get the words right, you make them all right.”

My thumbs gently wiped the tears tracking down her face.

“I’ve been miserable for so long, I didn’t have a clue how to let myself be happy,” I went on. “Then you came along, and those Saturdays together were a lifeline I hadn’t known I needed. I kept saying I couldn’t do another relationship because I’d convinced myself I was too broken. That I couldn’t flex enough to let someone in, to accept change. But then this last week, with the unexpected chaos and sleepless nights, I realized it was a glimpse. A glimpse of how a future could be. How I could be.”

“What are you saying?”