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One Week Later
This is a bad idea.
My week was spent working alongside Cayden as he exercised his notable dominant nature not only in the office but at home as well. Once our day finished, I was surprised when he came over after dinner to work on the house. I told him not to worry, as I saw how hard he worked during the day, but no matter how exhausted he was, he came over without fail.
Since that night on the balcony, the night of our sort of kiss, he’s been a little distant, so I haven’t spoken about it. Or the fact that I have my own private surveillance. I can’t help but feel he’s making himself scarce because he needs space, so I don’t push. Instead, I enjoy his company and focus on work.
The deliverymen, who Cayden knew on a first-name basis, came with endless supplies for my home and weren’t even bothered by having to make numerous trips back and forth each time. Most of it was wood, plaster, and roofing materials—the essentials to get this show up and running.
I did what I could, and I couldn’t help but notice how pleased Cayden was when I asked continual questions. He suggested we work on the bathroom first. He noted that the plumbing could stay where it was, which meant it just needed a cosmetic renovation.
That sounds easy enough until we began ripping out the tiles, which was a backbreaking job. Even though I managed to use every swear word under the sun, it felt liberating to destroy something, knowing it was for the greater good. Cayden remarked that once we were done, I wouldn’t recognize this place as the outdated, derelict shack it currently is.
He said it would take a week or so to get the bathroom back to pristine condition. In the meantime, he offered his home as an alternative whenever nature called. We only stopped to gulp down bottles of water as we were both eager to get back to our project.
As we were ripping out the sink, he suggested we do the kitchen next. This was going to be the most expensive room to remodel, he said. I told him he’d better give me a pay rise then.
We worked alongside one another as a dynamic force, and I was pleasantly surprised to realize I was a fast learner.
Everything was going great, better than great, but when he mentioned my bedroom, dread churned in the pit of my stomach because touching it almost felt sacrilegious. Like I was disturbing a holy place. The moment he saw my hesitation, we came to a compromise. His priority would be to fix the balcony after he confirmed my fears that it was seconds away from collapsing.
Even still. The thought of him tearing up the place I know every night for the past twelve days he’s kept under watch punches a hole straight through me. But eventually, I agreed.
The day was turning out to be the best I’d had in a long time, and with my mind distracted, I didn’t realize how late it was. So when it reached the time for me to get ready for dinner with my parents, both Cayden and I became tense, the easiness between us fading.
It was apparent that neither of us wanted this magical day to end, but curiosity got the better of me, and I was bidding Cayden farewell. He said he’d be back tomorrow, and the thought would be a nice one to come home to.
When he walked out the front door, his shoulders sagged with what appeared to be a sense of burden. As I watched him descend the first porch step, I was surprised when he stopped and turned over his shoulder. “Do you want me to come?”
I almost fell face-first onto my porch. “To my parents’?” I asked, in case I was lost in translation.
He nodded firmly, confirming my suspicions that he was also apprehensive about tonight.
But this man never ceased to amaze me. “You’d do that for me?”
The air fell still. “I’d do anything for you.”
I wanted to say yes, please, come with me. Everything is always easier with you by my side. He read my thoughts, however, and settled on an alternative. “Call me if you need me. And make sure you lock this door.” There was no further discussion.
I leaned against the doorway, watching him as he walked toward his house with a hint of frustration to his steps. Once he faded from view, I closed the door and locked it.
Taking a breath, I realize it was the first time all day I felt uneasy. Being around Cayden helps me forget, which is why…this is a bad idea.
I’m sitting in Cayden’s monster truck, idling by the curb about a block away from my parents’ million-dollar mansion. I have no doubt security, aka a police cadet reject, will be cruising around the corner in his little white car and asserting his authority any second now. But I need a minute.
I can’t shake the feeling that something life-changing is seconds away from happening.
I know I’m probably overreacting because I don’t have any fond memories of this neighborhood or my parents’ home, but something big is looming. I peer into the rearview mirror, not recognizing the big, frightened eyes as my own.
I have no doubt my family won’t recognize me either, seeing as I’ve tossed out the majority of the clothing I left this neighborhood with. When I opted for this bright orange bohemian dress, which sets the fire red to my hair alight, I knew Stella would be far from impressed that I wasn’t decked out in couture. But she needs to get used to the new me.
So far, I’m happy with who I see.
Snapping from my funk, I run my hands around the steering wheel, finding strength in the fact that Cayden’s hands have been here too. With a new lease on tonight, I put the truck into the gear, relishing when the beast roars through the gated community, disturbing the sterile peace.
The moment the tall, white gates come into view, I am hit with the memories of when I first saw them. It was the day Stella took me “home.” Everything was so murky, and she spoke to me like I should have remembered all the information she relayed. But I didn’t remember any of it. I still don’t.
