“You went to him after we... Hell! You slept with him last night, didn’t you?” Wes spews out nonsense.
“I didn’t sleep with anyone last night! And no, I didn’t go to Caleb for anything like that after we had sex. Do you really think I’m a whore?” I shake my head. “I’m not fucking Caleb!” I toss up my hands.
“Right. Then why did he show up last night?” he growls and throws his beer in the trash.
“How the hell should I know? I never got the chance to ask him. Wes... I love you.” I soften my voice on the last words.
“Calla, like you said before, it won't work. We're done. I'll be at work Monday, and I'll stay until you find someone to replace me.”
I gasp. “So that's it?! You're just going to leave everything?” I blink, dumbfounded by him.
“Yes.”
Silence fills the room for an uncomfortable length of time.
I won’t make it back to the city in this state.
“Can….” My voice falters, so I try again. “Can I use the shower before I head back? I feel grimy and disgusting after the drive. It will only take 20 minutes then I'll be out of your hair.” I turn away from him, not able to look at his back.
“Sure.”
“Thanks.” I head toward the closest spare bedroom, catching a few “fucks” and “damns” from Wes.
When I get into the spare room and its attached bathroom, I pull out my cell phone and speed dial Trey. He answers on the first ring.
“Hey, Darlin’, I can’t talk long. Working on a new dish,” he explains, dishes banging in the background.
“Trey… I'll be in tomorrow….” my voice cracks as I try to speak clearly.
“What happened? You sound upset,” he observes.
I sit on the edge of the tub and try to put the last twenty minutes into words without breaking down.
“I can't believe it. Wes quit!” I start bawling, and no air is getting into my lungs.
Trey is completely silent, and I check to make sure the call is still connected. It is.
“I'll call you on my way home,” I say, and just before I end the call, Trey finally speaks.
“Be careful, Calla,” he whispers, and we hang up.
Reaching for the shower knob, I turn on the water before standing and shuffling back into the bedroom. I toss my phone on the bed and undress, leaving my clothes in a heap on the floor before walking back into the bathroom. I step into the shower and let the water beat down on my tense muscles, releasing only some of the stress. Thirty minutes pass while I stand there gathering my remaining mental state so I can face Wes again.
When I’m finally out and dried off, I step out of the bathroom and find my bag lying on the bed. The clothes I had been wearing are neatly folded next to it. I quickly put my faded, tattered blue jeans back on and pull out my form-fitting cream long-sleeved sweater. Refreshed and somewhat shielded, I open the bedroom door, bag in hand, and head into the kitchen to say goodbye.
As I pass through the living room, I find Wes sitting on a leather sofa. He's just getting off the phone when I step into his line of sight.
“Thanks for the shower. I'm going to head back now.” I start to turn.
“Calla, I… uh don't want you driving home this late. Stay here tonight. Please?” He runs his hand through his hair.
I shake my head no, because there’s no way I can keep my composure all night. “Trey or Adam?” I gesture to his phone.
“Both. And they’re right. Please listen... just this one time.” He sits forward and rests his forearms on his thighs.
“Wes, I’m sorry, but I can’t. Not now. If I stay, I won’t be able to hold it together, and I’ll want to call Ben. It’s going to be hard enough explaining you leaving. I don’t want to add fuel to the fire.”
“Son-of-a-bitch,” he mutters, pulling at his hair. “I didn’t think about our families,” he trails off, and I take that as my cue to leave.
I all but run out of the lake house. All the while, my heart is hoping Wes will chase after me. He doesn’t. I fumble with the handle before getting the Jeep door open and toss my bag in. I plug my phone into the charger and fire up the GPS app. I really don’t need to get lost again. Then I text Trey.
Me: I’m heading home. I can’t stay.
Trey: Drive carefully and text me when you get home.
About halfway home, I stop at an all-night diner. Between my grumbling stomach and the tears that just won’t stop, I have to pull off the road. I wipe my eyes for the millionth time and check myself in the mirror. My face is swollen and red, and there’s no way I can change it, so I decide not to go in. I rest my head on the steering wheel instead.
Pull it together, or you'll never get back. You can’t let the heartache Wes just caused be worse than what Torrence did. Buck up and get your ass home.
The phone ringing interrupts my pep talk. I glance at its cradle and watch it vibrate. I look out the window at the road in front of me and shift into gear, letting the phone ring. Cautiously, I pull back onto the paved road and drive home. Wes, Adam, and Trey take turns calling, but I don’t answer.
I can’t.
Chapter 32
Wes
I slouch back against the brown leather sofa, trying not to think about what just happened. However, after acting like a royal asshat, my brain won't turn off. I keep replaying the words in my head and hoping that my mouth will shut the fuck up before I say the one thing I never wanted to say. What the fuck was I thinking? I don't want to quit. I love working at Belladonna. Not to mention, Calla finally wants me as a business partner. Well, all of us. Fuck! Me!
“I need another drink. And food,” I mumble, getting up off the sofa.
As I start to head for the kitchen, I stop at the hallway leading to the room Calla used not even an hour ago. Why didn't I go to her? She was crying because of me. I could’ve apologized, but I let someone else comfort her, even though she’s mine. She was mine as soon as she came to my bed. Damn it. I huff out a deep breath and move toward the kitchen. There’s not much I can do right now. I need to make a plan. And for fuck’s sake, I need to remember that Calla is not, has never been, and never will be like Zoe. That bitch really did a number on me if what I said to Calla is any indication.
In the kitchen, I scavenge for food. Originally I was going to go out and get something to eat, but that was before this shit went down. Now I’m stuck with rations, if that.
Fuck. Guess it's cereal for dinner.
I pour my bowl of cereal, along with a cup of coffee, and head to the front of the house where the den is. When I’d come in yesterday, I’d put the mail and paper on my father's desk, knowing I’d want to read the food section. I step behind the desk, place my dinner on top of it, and pull my phone out of my back pocket before sitting down.
My phone flashes for the millionth time, telling me I have a voicemail and text message. Both are from Calla from when I ignored her yesterday. My hand hovers over the phone. I want to hear her voice, or see what she needed to say, but I don't pick it up. I simply watch the light flash and take a bite.
As I chew, I pick up the paper, unwrap it, and turn to the food section. I spot Torrance's announcement and the review from his friend. If I’m not mistaken, he’s the one that waved at me the night of the dinner.
“Holy fuck! He liked the menu. That’s my girl. We fucking did it! She’s finally out from under that son-of-a-bitch.” I reach for my cell to call her, when a distinct ring echoes in the silent room.
With the swipe of my thumb, I answer.
“Trey, what's up man?” I sit back in the chair.
“Is Calla still with you?” he asks.
“No, she left. Why?” I can't help the worry I feel and hear in my voice.
If something has happened to her, I’m going to kick my own ass. I knew I should’ve made her stay this late at night, but I was being pig-headed.
“Shit! I've been calling. I can't get ahold of her. ‘The Reaper's’ coming tomorrow.” Tr
ey sounds both disappointed and frazzled.
“Wait, what?” My heart is now racing. “Mr. Grimm... Calla’s uncle... is coming to Belladonna tomorrow? How do you know it's him?”
“I’m not sure who called, but someone did. They requested a reservation next to the kitchen and used one of his code names,” Trey responds.
“But we don't take reservations. And he would know that.” I drum my fingers on the desk.
“No shit. And normally he wouldn't let anyone know he was coming. Maybe they’ve been talking? Either way, we need everyone here. Without drama.”
There is silence on the other end of the line then some commotion. A soft, muffled voice says something to Trey, and I strain to make out what is being said. The voice gets louder, and it sounds like Nessa is back... and royally pissed off.
“Tell him!” Her voice is growly and stern. I can picture her hands resting on her hips as she taps her foot, a fierce expression on her face.
“Tell me what?” I ask.
Trey sighs, giving into Nessa’s demand.
“She didn't pick him over you. You’re the last person she had sex with, and she didn't think you’d want her afterwards.”
“How do you know any of this?” I rub the bridge of my nose.
“When you left the table after breakfast, she took a walk to clear her head. She called and told me what happened. What she’d said and done. She was going to talk to you when she got back," Trey explains.
“We didn't talk after she got home,” I confess. “She went out and met Caleb, and that was that.” I lean forward and grab my spoon, dipping it in the cereal. When I lift it to take a bite, it's all soggy, and I push the bowl away.
“I gathered that much from the fight, and from the conversation we had when I drove her home. Wes, Caleb only asked to meet with her to see if we’d help with a charity cooking event. He might want Calla in his bed, but that's not what he asked her for.” Trey sighs. “So, you dumbass. You quit for nothing but your pride... without bothering to get the facts, first.”
I run my hand through my hair. “Fuck. Me.” A knot forms in my stomach, making it feel like the cereal I just ate might reappear. I’m a motherfucking idiot. Why didn’t I let her talk? I seriously need to kick my own ass, or call my brothers and Ben and let them have at me after this clusterfuck.
“Exactly. To make things worse, she was so happy about the news yesterday, but because you’re butt-hurt, you didn't pick up your phone when she called to tell you the good news. You didn’t even bother to answer her text.”
“The review?” I ask, hating myself for what a jackass I’ve been.
“The review. We completely changed the menu yesterday. Every day is something new. She tossed every old menu. It's been a huge hit. She wanted you here to see it and to clear the air.” He falls quiet again.
“And I fucked it up. Damn it! Why do I lose my shit when it comes to Calla?” I’m not really expecting an answer.
“Because you love her.” He lets that hang there.
“I... uhhh…..” I don't know what to say. It's the truth. But after what I did, what I said, I’m not sure I can fix any of this.
Trey waits for me to say something a little more coherent. When nothing comes, his voice is frustrated as he makes a few indistinguishable sounds and hangs up on me.
I pull the phone from my ear to stare at it.
Caleb only wants Calla to work with him on a cooking charity….
Trey’s words finally fully register, and I grab my dishes, phone, and keys, and head for the kitchen. I quickly clean everything before going into my room to pack. I’m not going to miss being there for Calla... or fixing what I broke.
Silently, I slip in the back door of Belladonna the next evening. The dinner service is already underway, and by the look of it, ‘The Reaper’ is already here.
From my viewpoint, Calla appears uneasy and very flustered. Her eyes are puffy, and she keeps yawning as if she didn't sleep much last night. But she's pulling herself together enough to cook. Trey and Adam move cautiously toward Calla, wrapping their arms around her. She allows their comfort for a short time then barks for everyone to get back to work. That’s when Adam heads out of the kitchen to deal with the wait staff.
Calla and Trey get back to work preparing the menu. With Calla barely holding herself together, the staff take turns walking over to see what she needs. They work as a team to help keep her from falling apart. Her food has to shine brighter than ever for this particular critic.
Every few minutes, Trey glances at his watch as if expecting someone to show. Finally, his gaze lifts, and he peers around the kitchen. It’s a bit unnerving because it's like he knows someone is watching. As he walks back over to Calla, he spots me. Cautiously, I place a finger to my lips for him to remain silent.
He nods with a smile.
I mouth, “How is she?” without drawing attention to myself.
Trey answers silently with a shake of his head.
I remain out of sight while I study the kitchen staff working the menu and protecting Calla, even if it's from a man that would never truly want to hurt her. At least, not intentionally. Yet, not many know the ‘The Reaper,’ or Mr. Grimm, is her uncle. But he can’t play favorites in his line of work.
“Y’all still call him the ‘The Reaper’?” she tosses out and laughs. “You know he’s not that bad.”
“Yes!" everyone in the kitchen answers, and her face lights up.
“Oh my God, he’s going to love that!” She chuckles a little more.
She turns toward the staff, yelling out ingredients and trying to contain her enjoyment. “He requested the stuffed lamb with spinach, cranberries, walnuts, and special sauce, with a side of spaghetti squash and a Caesar salad. This has to be prefect, folks.”
I need to make things right with her, and she needs all the help she can get tonight. Moving further into the hustle and bustle of the kitchen, I make sure she’s able to see me.
“Calla!” I call out over the commotion, but no one except Trey hears, or rather sees, that I’m saying her name.
Trey pauses and rolls his eyes at me. It's as if he’s calling me a chicken-shit for not stepping up next to her. Maybe he’s right. I take a few more steps, when something makes Calla take notice of Trey's posture change, and she peers around until her eyes fall on me. She freezes and simply stares at me as I move closer to her prep station.
“Would you like another set of hands?” I offer quietly.
“Sure.” She eyes me warily, but at the same time, the sadness bleeds out of her face. She glances over to Trey, who has a shit-eating grin on his face. As I head to my area, a new wave of ease fills the kitchen.
I look over at Calla before starting my prep, and she mouths, “What did you do?” to Trey.
“Called in reinforcements,” he responds loud enough I can hear, and I grin, shaking my head.
The kitchen falls silent as his words echo through the room. I chuckle, and Calla glares at me.
“I'll deal with you later!” Her voice has an edge to it. It's joking, yet serious at the same time.
“Promise?” I wink and try to give her a wicked smile.
There's only one way I’ll let her deal with me later, and I know she’ll enjoy it. But first, I have to apologize. How I ever thought I could leave this... or her... really is beyond me.
The kitchen now roars with life and laughter.
As the main course goes out for Mr. Grimm, we watch from the window as the server sets the plate down on his left side. Calla moves toward the door, prepared to walk out. The server glances at Mr. Grimm, whose expressionless face would scare even me, then to Calla, who is now walking to the table. She smiles at the server, who quickly retreats.
I scramble out of the kitchen, closely followed by Trey, to watch my girl completely win over her uncle.
“Mr. Grimm, how are you tonight?” She gives him a smirk with this formality.
“Your servers are lacking,” Mr. Grimm gr
umbles, holding up an almost empty glass of wine.
Adam comes to stand next to us, carrying a bottle of red wine and a glass, as the server moves toward us.
“Make sure his water glass is full too,” Adam instructs Nessa’s server. Then he mumbles, “The servers are doing just fine.”
Adam hands the server the empty wine glass, along with the wine, and she quickly heads back to the table.
“This dish is from our new menu. And we’ve paired it with a lovely Zin,” Calla informs him as the server passes her the glass and bottle before picking up his water glass to refill it. “Would you like to try the suggested pairing, or your previous wine?” she asks, presenting the bottle of wine to her uncle.
He agrees to the new wine pairing, seeming not to want any further conversation. Calla glances our way, specifically at Adam, and nods. He strolls to the table then begins to uncork the bottle. Adam hands the cork to Mr. Grimm and pours a small taste in the large glass. Mr. Grimm swirls the wine in the glass before lifting the glass to his nose, smelling its aroma. Lowering the glass, he sips the wine and places the glass back on the table.
“Adam, it smells divine. Please pour me a full glass.”
Adam blinks but remains silent as he pours the wine. When the glass is full, he steps back and waits for Calla.
“Enjoy your meal.” She smiles at Mr. Grimm and takes his empty salad bowl as she and Adam turn and slowly head away from the table.
“Calla, will you join me for a minute or two?” her uncle requests, glancing up from the table.
This is unexpected, and it stops both her and Adam short. They turn back toward the table. Adam steps around Calla to pull out the chair across from Mr. Grimm, and she takes a seat, scooting closer in to the table. Holding his hand out, Calla passes the empty bowl over to him as he leans down to whisper something in her ear before lightly kissing her cheek. Mr. Grimm watches but says nothing, taking his first bite of lamb.
“Adam, bring Calla a glass of this too, please.” He points to the wine with his knife.
“Yes, sir.” He hurriedly walks away, returning just as swiftly with Calla's glass.
Calla's Kitchen_One of the Boys Page 22
