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JULIET
If I hadany second thoughts about giving Caleb his second chance, they melt away the next morning, when he picks me up to whisk me out to the Hamptons for the day.
“Your chariot awaits,” he says, holding open the door to the convertible Mercedes. I’m not a car person, but even I can tell this is a gorgeous model. But not as gorgeous as the man sliding behind the wheel.
“You look… Different,” I say, studying him as we hit the road. It’s not just his casual outfit: a linen shirt, open at his throat, and dark wash jeans. He seems more relaxed than I’ve seen before. Lighter.
“A beautiful day with a beautiful woman,” Caleb says, flashing me a grin from behind his Ray-Ban Wayfarer shades. “What’s not to like?”
I smile back. I still can’t believe that he solved all my problems with one call—and a very large check—and I can’t deny that it’s a weight off my mind, too.
Plus, a little voice whispers, reminding me that now my mom’s living situation is secured, I don’t need Olivia’s payoff anymore.
I try to push that thought away, but as we’re pulling onto the highway, his phone rings.
I wonder, which phone is it?
The incoming call flashes up on the car system, and I brace myself for Caleb to flip the switch again: into work-mode CEO, or shady and detached. But instead, he clicks to reject the call.
“Aren’t you going to get that?” I ask, surprised.
“I’m off the clock.” Caleb grins.
“Really? I didn’t think that was possible,” I tease, only half-kidding.
He chuckles. “There’s a first time for everything. I don’t need to think about the office, not this weekend. I have everything I need right here.”
Maybe it’s another line, but I don’t think so, not this time. And it’s flattering to know that Caleb’s put the rest of his high-powered life on hold so we could spend time together.
Maybe he really is serious about this second chance with me.
That decides it. If he’s off the clock, then I am too. This weekend, Olivia and her secret suspicions don’t exist. Nothing does, except Caleb, and me, and whatever he has planned.
And I’m betting it’s delicious.
We reachthe Hamptons in a couple of hours, and I watch as the rural beach towns shift into something more exclusive and grand. Here, the houses are massive and imposing, and the people we pass on the quaint cobbled streets are stylish, part of that wealthy country-club world that Caleb was born into. It’s so foreign to me.
His hand rests on my thigh. “What are you thinking?”
“That we vacation in very different ways,” I joke.
He chuckles. “What did you do for your summers?”
“Um. Hang around. Read. Lay out on the front lawn and get sunburned,” I reply. “What do you do here?”
He grins. “Same.”
Somehow, I doubt it. He stops at a crossing and my jaw drops as I glimpse a familiar face being hustled past by her bodyguards. “Wait. Is that Beyonce? I think that’s Beyonce!”
He doesn’t even look, so I try and regain my composure. I’m sure this place is swarming with celebs. I need to play it cooler than this before my head explodes.
I’m expecting us to head to a fancy restaurant or beach house, but instead, Caleb pulls up at a busy marina. “I thought we could take my boat out for the day,” he says casually.
Of course he has a boat. No, a yacht. Complete with gorgeous white leather seats, polished mahogany trim, and even a little galley kitchen with an ice bucket and cold drinks waiting. Caleb gives me the tour, then sits me down to enjoy the view as he takes charge, unmooring from the dock, casting off, and unfurling the sail as we motor out of the marina.
And boy, is it a spectacular view.
I sit back, feeling the sun on my face and the breeze in my hair. Luckily, I dressed for the beach with a bikini under my denim cut-offs and loose blouse. As we pick up speed, I have to laugh.
