by Emily Duvall
My heart is heavy as I close the laptop. I was just sitting in group the other night with such certainty that I had Caleb.
The phone rings and I jump, hoping for Caleb and getting Charlotte instead. “Hey,” I say.
“Thank God you answered,” she rolls right into her reason for calling, “I need to get out tonight. My boyfriend dumped me. Please say you’ll come. I can’t stand to spend the night with a cheap bottle of wine.”
“You’re upset.”
“Yes.”
We have something in common. The prospect of going out sounds better than hanging around here. “I’m having man trouble myself,” I say, stealing the line from one of the commenters on Why Men Don’t Call Back, a podcast Charlotte listens to at work sometimes.
“We’ll discuss tonight. I’ll see you at Up & Up at seven.”
I officially have plans.
I’ve been adapting the fashion rules to what I think looks good on me and for reference, peruse through a website with the latest trends. None of my clothes resemble what the models wear, and I go with the standard jeans-and-shirt combo with my hair in a low ponytail. I’m too busy putting extra effort into my appearance to notice my mom has called and texted.
I leave my apartment and get to the lobby to find my parents are there, in the middle of a heated discussion. Once my mom sees me, she rushes over, noticing the details of my outfit and my hair. “Where are you going?” she says, ready to shut down my answer.
“I’m meeting Charlotte. She broke up with her boyfriend.”
“Oh. Well. Your father and I thought we’d all grab dinner.”
Dad touches her arm. “Let her go, Ellen.”
“Ryan, I told you this would happen.”
“I want to go,” I say.
My mother makes a huffy-puffy sound. “You’re sure?”
“Of course I am.” There’s a round of hugs before I leave.
Up & Up is insanely loud with live music. My hands jump to my ears and slowly, I let them slide away. There’re ten television screens hanging behind the bar, each one displaying a different sport. There’s obnoxious laughter and glasses clinking. I think Doctor K should host group in a place like this. I bet we’d get much better practice.
“Table,” Charlotte says and points to a seat near the back.
The waitress is at our table before I scoot in my chair. “What will you have?” she says.
I take my sweet time looking over the menu. Charlotte clears her throat. I keep reading. I don’t order alcohol much and go with my drink of choice. “A glass of Riesling.”
Charlotte makes a face. “I don’t know how you can drink that stuff. That’s a headache waiting to happen.” The waitress returns with our drinks and Charlotte clinks her glass against mine. “To men we don’t need.”
“I need Caleb.”
“Oh no. You don’t. Did he call you yet?”
“No. No calls or texts. It’s been a week.”
“Hmm.” Her lips twist like she’s going to say more.
“He also didn’t meet me for jogging.”
Charlotte lets out a long sigh. “I’m kind of going through something similar. I saw this guy a few times and I haven’t heard from him.”
I lean forward intently. “So? What do you do?”
She frowns. “Nothing. You need to know the truth. We’re way too generous, giving men a pass, like they hold all the cards. Why is it you’ve spent your week wondering why he hasn’t called? He should be worried that he’s taken too long at this point and might lose you. I’m afraid I might have said something to push my guy away. Maybe I came on too strong. Maybe you did the same with Caleb. Who knows what they’re thinking? They can be so frustrating, but really, they’re so vulnerable. You need to find out what makes him tick. Have you found out?”
I’m a little lost here. “Found out what?”
“What makes Caleb vulnerable?”
“I’ll ask him.”
Charlotte’s hand hits the table. Her expression is grave. “Didn’t you just hear me? Don’t do that.”
“You just told me to.”
“The key is finding out without asking. The beginning of a relationship is delicate. You don’t know everything about him.”
“I would if he would call me.”
“He might not though.”
“That’s not what I want though.”
“And that’s the hardest part. You don’t always get what you want.”
That’s not fair. What if he doesn’t like me anymore?
“The best way to not think about Caleb is to find someone else.” Charlotte looks around the room, like she’s assessing her options.
“What are you looking for?”
“The guy who will take me home tonight. That’s how I get over an asshole.”
“I don’t think Caleb’s an asshole for not calling.”
“Really?” She slams her glass down and flicks my wrist. “Then why’s he here with her?”
“Ow.” I turn around and see him, sitting at the bar next to a woman. They’re talking and smiling. She bumps his elbow and he seems to like that. Light touching means showing affection. My heart dips.
“Whatever you do,” Charlotte advises, angling her body close to me, “don’t go talk to him.”
“But I want to talk to him.”
“You can’t. You’ll just have to trust me.”
“How long should I ignore Caleb? Tonight? A day? Not more than a week?”
“Until he comes to you.”
Defeated, my shoulders slouch. “What if he doesn’t?”
“Then he’s not worth your time. This isn’t the end of the world, Maren. Caleb is one guy. There’s plenty of good ones out there. I know what I’m talking about. I’ve had twenty-seven boyfriends. How many have you had? It doesn’t count unless the guy has lasted more than three months.”
“I’ve never dated someone that long.” The conversation is causing my mood to change and not for the better. I turn my back on Caleb. It took me so long to find someone. If it took this long, it could be years before another man shows interest.
“Well, drink up,” Charlotte says.
We get through our first glass and order another. Charlotte’s attention is mostly on her phone, but she asks me questions and we discuss work. I don’t know what else to talk about. Libby and I didn’t stay in a bar long, and not one like this, where I can’t even hear my thoughts.
“Excuse us, ladies,” says a male voice.
We look up to find two men holding beers in front of us.
Charlotte sits up straight and fiddles with her hair. “What do you want?” she says.
“Your chairs,” one of the men says. “You have two free ones and we need a place to sit.”
“You can sit here,” I say, catching Charlotte’s approving glance.
“I’m Josh,” the taller one says, sitting next to me. “This is Scott.”
There’s a silent choice of partners as Scott and Charlotte start talking, leaving me with Josh and his square face.
“How’s it going?” he says, watching me over the rim of his glass.
“I’m ignoring a guy who didn’t call me.”
“Good thing I’m here. Which guy?”
I turn around and point at Caleb. The woman sitting next to him bumps his arm and he looks over at me.
“You’ve been spotted,” Josh says. “Is he your ex?”
“We jog together. Do you run?” He runs his hands over his front and his shirt catches, revealing his full belly with a trail of dark hair. “There’s no way you do.”
His hands stop and his face winces. “Ouch.”
I shrug. “You couldn’t be my running partner.”
Any response he’s about to give me is cut off by something that’s caught his attention. I shift around and look up to find Caleb standing behind me. Nothing about his expression is happy. “Caleb,” I say, repressing a smile. He came to me.
“Maren,” he says coolly, “I
didn’t realize you were here.”
“We’re in the middle of something,” Josh says.
Caleb ignores him. “How’s your evening?”
“What?” I shout over the music.
“How was your evening?” he yells.
“I’m staying away from you, so you’ll notice me.”
Charlotte chokes on her drink. “Maren.”
Josh grabs his drink and stands. “I don’t have time for this.” He looks at Caleb. “Good luck with that.”
Caleb takes the seat that Josh was in. “Why would you let that loser sit here?”
“He asked.”
“Doesn’t mean you have to say yes.”
“You’re with another woman at the bar and this chair was free.” My cheeks burn. I can’t think clearly and my heart pounds so hard. I wish the music would stop. It’s too much.
“She’s my coworker. It’s nothing.”
“You’re laughing with her and she’s touching you.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“Have you kissed her?”
“No. She’s a colleague.”
“You kissed Sara.”
I look him in the eye. I’m desperate to find an answer. All I see are dark pupils. “Are you going to kiss me again?”
“No.”
“But you’re my boyfriend.”
“No, I’m not,” Caleb clarifies.
Everything comes to a screeching halt.
I want to be home. Now. Playing my games and hiding out from the rejection. It sucks. It hurts. Not to be wanted. Tears threaten to fall from my eyes.
Caleb folds his arms over his chest. “You do understand that we were never together, right?”
That’s the issue. I don’t understand. I feel…I feel… “This music is too loud.” I get up and leave with Charlotte yelling after me. I go through the crowd not caring how my shoulder hits other people or the gasps and looks people give me. I need air and quiet.
I push through the door and hurtle forward, startling a couple making out. I take a seat on the steps and put my head in my hands. The music shatters the quiet for a moment, followed by footsteps. Caleb is next to me, sitting with me and he rubs his hands together in a way I’ve come to realize is his quirk.
“I thought you understood,” he says. “I’m not looking for a relationship.”
“You said we weren’t kissing other people. I was there for that conversation.”
Caleb pauses and takes a calculated breath. “Something has come up at work. Something that impacts our relationship.”
“You could have picked up the phone and called.” I turn my eyes to his face. He does not do the same. His jaw is tight, and his lips are hard. I take a risk and put my hand on his arm. Caleb whips his head to mine. “What do you want?” I ask gently, afraid that I am missing an important moment.
“I’m defending Paul Pierce. He’s my client.” Caleb’s eyes are intense. “You know who he is.”
I jerk my hand away from his arm. My blood freezes. “No. Not him.”
“You were there, in his bar, last year with Libby.”
I stand, my voice is defiant as my eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it. Not even with you.”
He’s right there with me, walking next to me as I go. “Don’t walk away from me. Tell me about that night.”
I hear Pierce’s voice and his threat. “No.”
Caleb grabs my hand and stops me. “Do you realize how much this changes between us? This is a major conflict of interest.”
“Just don’t defend him and the problems won’t be there.”
He sighs and runs his hand through mine. “How can you ask me that? How can you even say that? This case is everything to me.” He shakes his head. “Maren, I need to know what you know.”
“No,” I say with too much heart.
“Why didn’t you tell me you had been at that bar? That you talked to the police?”
“Why would that ever come up between us? That was months ago.”
Caleb runs a hand through his hair. “Unbelievable. This whole thing. Okay, fine. You don’t have to talk. Not tonight. Let’s not do this now.”
“Not ever,” I add.
His fingers twist around mine, but there is no warmth in his eyes. “I’m just doing my job.”
“Then go do it.” I make a motion to start going home.
“I’m coming with you,” he calls out, getting to my side. “At least let me walk you home.”
I want to tell him how I remember everything, right down to the pencil behind his ear. I can’t tell him about how angry Pierce sounded and how big and crazy his eyes got or the bottle of vodka in his hand and the shot glass he kept refilling and forcing the driver to drink. My eyes blink and I see him, and I hear him. “Yes, I would like that.”
Chapter 16
Caleb
Out of nowhere she’s with me, walking to her apartment. The night is insane with her next to me. She brings out another side to me. I am a lawyer assigned to oversee one of the biggest cases of my career and my witness is the woman that I want to wake up with. Go figure. The consequences for breaking the attorney-client relationship are severe and far-reaching. I could lose my job, and possibly, my right to practice law. My credibility and reputation could be stripped down and taken away. I can’t see her again and this will crush her. Taking her home from Up & Up is counterproductive to the list of violations I could face, but I’m not going to let her stay in the bar and let her get full-blown drunk with douche bags waiting to lay claim.
I get her home while letting this bomb fester inside me. All my misgivings are burning a hole through me.
Maren’s got a buzz. She’s jabbing the key in the lock and missing.
I laugh and swipe the key from her hand. “Let me do it.”
“I know how to unlock my door.”
“I was being a gentleman. I’m not telling you what to do.” I open the door and let her go in first.
She slams her bag on the counter and kicks off her shoes. “You’re the only person who doesn’t tell me what to do.” Maren grabs my face and presses her lips against me and slips her tongue in my mouth. The alcohol makes her movements rough and needy. Her lips are warm and perfect tinged with beer and a body I instinctively know intimately. My mouth works over hers as my hands lift her on the counter. I wedge myself between her legs and kiss her chin, her neck, the top of her breasts. My hand sweeps over her cheek and whispers of, “Slow down,” leave my mouth.
“I like it fast.” She stops, meeting my gaze and her eyes are rough currents of longing.
I’m tempted to show her how fast I can go. I’m afraid my selfishness is in the way. I want every piece of her. Each kiss is rough and full of easy, needy, lust. Her tongue, my tongue, our mouths—we’re all over each other. My hands swipe over her thighs, and her waist, and up, until I cradle her face. She’s soft, she’s curvy, and I want her like this, in my arms, giving herself to me.
My heart is beating fast and I remind myself this will hurt her, or worse, I’ll pay the price. I don’t have a clear head and I have every reason to stop. Right now? All the No’s are met by a stronger, greedier, Yes. I’m the person who lets her take risks. I’m the man who lets her make her own choices. I’m the one who takes her home. She breaks away, looking at me briefly. Fire and heat are in her eyes. They reflect the longing in my own. I’m caught up in everything about her. Her hand touches my abs. Hesitant at first, and then undeniable, as she strokes up and down with fingertips teasing my skin. She looks me in the eyes and she’s all here, she’s right with me in this crazy thing. Saying no is going to be harder than I ever imagined and for all the reasons I shouldn’t pursue her like this, my conscience kicks in and I feel the need to clarify, “Maren, I’m not your boyfriend. I can’t be.”
“Caleb,” she says my name a like woman who knows what she wants. “You’ve already explained all that and you walked me home.”
“I didn’t want you leaving by yours
elf. Charlotte looked like she was going to go home with that guy.” Her hands press against my sides. My breath catches. “You have no idea how much I want you.”
“I do.”
My voice is like gravel, gritty and rough. “Not everything is black-and-white. I’m worried you won’t be able to handle tomorrow when I don’t call. When I don’t show up for running.”
“But I like running with you. It’s our thing.” She lets go of me. She puts space between us. “You’re the one who keeps changing their mind.”
“Things must be different now.”
“Because of the case?”
“You might have to be a witness, Maren.”
“I don’t know what that has to do with tonight.”
“You’re going to have to tell me what you saw. That changes this.” I point to her and to me. “Did you see three girls at the bar?”
“Stop asking me.” Her voice is agitated and becoming louder. “Stop asking me.”
“Believe me, I don’t want to ask. I don’t want this burden, but I can’t be with you and be the lawyer defending Mr. Pierce.”
“How long will the case take? A week? Thirty days? Sixty?”
“I have no idea. It could be over fast or even take years.”
“I need a date. A month.”
“Why? Why do you care so much about time?” She moves her hand aimlessly over my chest. I grab her wrist and seize her hand over my heart. “You always want specifics, but sometimes there aren’t hard dates. Things change. Plans shift. What about what I want? This could have been avoided if I’d known. Why didn’t you tell me you were in the bar that night?”
“How would I have known to mention that?” Maren scoots to the edge of the counter and stands.
I won’t let her sit there and be irreverent. “What I want matters too, and my career is everything to me. It’s all I have.”
“It shouldn’t be the only thing.” She puts her hand gently on my arm.
Maren takes my face without warning and she brushes her lips against mine. I give in, slipping my tongue in her mouth and rolling my hand around her waist and up her shirt. Her skin is soft and smooth. I groan between kisses, between the rush of warmth and need as my fingers glide over her bra strap.
She pulls back, eyeing me. “You’re wrong. Darcy is important to you.”
