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If he notices that I’m putting the barrier of my employment between us, he pretends not to notice. He glances through the file. “Well, I did want an update on the feasibility report, but you seem to have your hands full with things here. I wouldn’t want to disturb you.” Even as he says this, he takes a seat on the sofa, no sign of leaving.
I give it a second, before saying, “You’re still here.”
He’s studying the copy of the report he has in his hand and doesn’t even spare me a glance. “Yes, I know.”
I resist the urge to kick him out of my house, asking with a bite, “Would you like me to get you some coffee?”
“That would be great,” he says distractedly.
I scowl. “Caleb, it’s seven in the evening and you’re sitting in my home, working, while I’m in the midst of moving! Surely, you can find a better location to do this?”
This does get his attention and he folds the contract. “I have nowhere to be.”
I’m trying to wrap the idea of this wealthy man who probably sleeps in money, choosing to sit in the middle of this mess that comes out of packing an entire house up.
Max returns and sits next to Caleb, duly chastised, and determined to show repentant he is of his crimes if just to get his TV privileges returned.
I walk into the other room to bring out one of the remaining boxes and I hear him whisper to my boss, “Are you also in trouble?”
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry when Caleb replies solemnly, “It certainly seems so.”
Entering my bedroom, I stare at the mostly empty room where I have spent the better part of a decade, where I’ve had my heart broken, where I’ve had sleepovers with that little angel outside when we used all the available cushions in the apartment and built forts.
Not all the memories are bad, I muse, wistfully, as I pick up a box.
Carrying it out, I see Caleb stand up, and before I know it, he’s taking the box from me.
His voice is quiet, “I don’t mind helping out, especially since I’m imposing.”
“You don’t have…”
He’s already putting the box with the rest.
I settle my hands on my hips, staring at him. “You’re very strange.”
“I beg your pardon?” He’s shrugging off his jacket.
“For a boss.” I study him. “You took me shopping, you’re in my home, and now you want to help me move.”
He’s watching me with, an inscrutable look in his eyes, a small secretive smile playing on his lips, which is part amusement, as if he knows something I don’t.
“What are you playing at, Mr. Starr?”
Caleb’s smirk grows broader, and he murmurs, “You know, every time you call me Mr. Starr, I feel like I’m in trouble.”
I narrow my gaze at him, trying to understand just what he wants when there’s a banging on the door and I hear a loud voice ordering, “Open up, Kendall! I know you’re inside!”
I stiffen as I recognize the voice. “Max, go to my room,” I instruct, my tone sharp.
Caleb takes a step forward and my eyes cut to him. “Stay with
him. This has nothing to do with you.”
If I see the flash of annoyance in his face, I ignore it.
Does Caleb Starr think he knows me?
He hasn’t even touched the first layer of who I am.
