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This crush I have on Caleb has to stop. He’s a good person doing a nice thing and nothing more. He’s made it abundantly clear that he thinks I’m a nuisance. And since he did something nice for me, I need to be polite. I’ll make him breakfast, thank him, and that’ll be the end of that.
But first, I’ll cover him up. As I reach for the blanket, he opens his beautiful green eyes, sleepily at first, but then homing in on me. His hand comes out to wrap around my wrist, causing me to gasp. He isn’t hurting me, but the electricity between us is so charged, I feel like I might combust.
The seconds tick by without a word. I know the first thing out of my mouth is going to sound silly, but I can’t stand the silence between us.
“How do you like your eggs?” I ask. He rises onto an elbow, still holding me, tilts his head to one side, and there it is, a smile curving his full, sensuous lips that would make a nun beg for mercy. I swear my heart is beating so loud that he must hear it.
“Sunny side up, not runny,” he says, his voice husky. “How do you take yours?”
“Um…same.” Why do I sound like a squeaky mouse? I clear my throat and repeat more clearly, “Same.”
He moves into a sitting position, giving my hand a little tug and setting me next to him, where his arm moves from my wrist to encircle my shoulders.
This must be a dream. There’s no other explanation. I pinch the back of my hand, emitting a little “Ow.”
“Don’t do that, Gwen. You’ll mark yourself,” he says, taking my hand and rubbing the spot gently, while I watch him. I tell myself not to read anything into this. He’s just being nice. Yesterday was a nightmare, and he’s a nice guy doing the right thing for a neighbor. “Breathe, baby,” he says, and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
I dare not hope for more than friendship. Having Caleb as a friend is far better than having to race out of my home to avoid seeing him. I started doing that after the spark plug incident. Now his head lowers, and his lips brush over mine. Soft, pliant, warm, and gentle lips move over my own. A tingle turns into a burning need for more. My hands creep up over his chest and my arms twine around his neck. He presses me closer, my breasts flat against his chest as he deepens the kiss, taking his time and taking his fill.
Caleb breaks our connection too soon. I could have kissed him all day. When I open my eyes, they’re staring into his, and Caleb is smiling at me.
“What’s happening?” I whisper, afraid of ruining the moment.
“I’m done fighting the pull. We’re going to see where this goes. I’m not an easy man. I have a hard job. One I love, and I won’t give that up. The women I’ve dated in the past have always had a problem with sharing my time. I may have to leave at any point for a call out. Missed dinners, late nights, they couldn’t hack it. Maybe you can’t either, but I’m hoping we can find a balance that will work for both of us,” Caleb says, although it’s hard to concentrate on the words when he continues to stroke my cheek gently, his very touch wreaking havoc with my senses.
It takes me a minute to find my voice. “I can hack it.” God, he smiles wider and brighter than before. My heart does a little dance.
“Let’s start with breakfast, then maybe you can tell me about Zaira,” he says. I lower my lids to hide the sadness. It’s been years, but it still feels raw when I think about losing her. His finger under my chin tilts my head upward to meet his eyes. “I want to know you.”
I nod, biting my lower lip. “Coffee first.”
“I’ll make coffee if you tackle the eggs,” he says. “I can grill, I can make pasta and the occasional soup in a can. The rest is a takeout menu,” he kids.
“I like cooking.”
After another soft, sweet kiss, he lets me go. “Feed me, baby.”
* * *
Caleb
“Mom died giving birth to Zaira.” Gwendolyn is in the corner of the sofa, cradling a cup of coffee in her hand. Her eggs were sublime. I’m not sure what she added to them, but they were far better than anything I would have made. Once we finished and I helped clear the table, she settled in and started to tell me about her Zaira.
“Shit! That’s rough,” I say.
“Dad didn’t want her to go through with the pregnancy. The doctors warned her that she was a high risk, and she was older than most pregnant mothers. I had already started college, and Dad was against the pregnancy from the time he found out Mom might be in danger.” She shakes her head. “Mom was relentless. She finally got Dad onboard, and all was going well. They had ultrasounds and discovered they were having a girl, and the baby and my mom both seemed perfectly healthy. Together, my parents decided on a name. Both were ecstatic. I would come home on weekends, and we were a happy family, waiting for our newest member.” Gwen pauses, words catching in her throat.
I take her hand. “We can stop.”
“No. No. Normal birth, then all of a sudden, Mom’s gone. Dad is devastated. He clings to Zaira like a lifeline. Mom wanted Zaira so much, and Dad poured all he had into his new baby girl. I did too. I took a year off from school to look after her while Dad continued working. When she was old enough for day care, we enrolled her, and I transferred to the local college. It was hard, but we muddled through.”
I give her time to collect her thoughts.
“One day, I came home with Zaira, and waiting for us was Dad’s boss. Dad was in an accident at work, and he didn’t make it.” Tears start flowing down her cheeks. I gather Gwendolyn into my arms. “I lost my parents, but I still had Zaira, and I was determined to do the best for her that I could.”
“What happened, baby?” I urge her to get it all out.
“Zaira was born with a heart defect. She was doing great, but by the time she was two, you could see that she wasn’t well. The doctor wanted to do surgery. I was against it at first. She was so weak and fragile, but it was her only hope. I agreed, and two and a half months after her third birthday, I lost her too.” Gwendolyn sinks into my arms, releasing the pent-up pain of losing her entire family.
