“Did he hit you?”
“No, never. But I was afraid of him, until I got to the age where I realized he no longer had control over me.”
“What happened?”
“I left home. He refused to pay anything toward the course, so I ran up a lot of debt, as you’d expect. I lived with Seb and Harry, and three of us survived on bread and noodles for four years. We all worked in the evenings, sometimes in bars or as waiters, sometimes in late-night office jobs, if we could find them, and I was proud of myself for managing to make it to graduation without having to call my parents for money. We set up Hearktech, and eventually our first tablet took off, and the rest is history. We paid off all our loans and things have just gotten better over the years.”
That’s not the whole story, though. “And your father—do you talk to him?”
“At first, I went home from time to time to see my mother. Inevitably, when we were sitting around the dinner table, he would say something scathing, and that would put my back up, and I ended up walking out most times. Once, he told me ‘you’re the worst son a man could ever have.’ That stung.”
“Jesus.”
He shrugs. “I feel sorry for Mum—it’s not her fault. She’s never stood up to him, and I can see why. But I haven’t been home for over a year now. It just brings me down, and I don’t need that.”
He rolls onto his side. “I have more entertaining things here in the city. Like this, for example.” He slides his hand over my body and down between my legs. “Mmm, you’re so soft,” he murmurs, stroking through my folds, which are still wet and swollen from my previous orgasms judging by the easy way his fingers are slipping through them.
I pretend he’s distracted me, and let him make love to me again. He seems happy, and I think that this is all most men want—food, sex, music, and someone who makes them feel good without making demands on them. It makes me sad, though, what his father has put him through. Not everyone’s lucky enough to have great parents. What do they say—you can choose your friends but you can’t choose your family? That’s so true. Just being related by blood doesn’t mean you’re going to be a great mother or father.
I drift away into the dream world I go to while Caleb’s making love to me—a world that should be filled with colored disco lights in a dark room, and chocolate and whiskey, and Barry White playing in the background.
Caleb is right—it’s far too soon for us to love each other. But there’s no doubt there’s something between us I haven’t felt before. I’ve desired men in the past, but I haven’t felt… I’m not sure what I’m feeling.
Ultimately, though, it’s all irrelevant. This relationship doesn’t have any future. I’m not stupid enough to believe that there’s a fairytale ending out there for me. Maybe one day there might be a man who’ll stick around, but he’s not going to be a university graduate with his own business who could have any classy, beautiful woman he lays eyes on. The sort of guy I’m meant for will be in another band, with tattoos and a bad attitude toward women, and we’ll probably be on-again, off-again until I’m old and gray, and I’ll always be thinking about the guy in the suit I could have had, if things had been different.
I still think I’m a novelty for Caleb. He finds me exciting, because his friends will disapprove of me deep down, and I’m sure his family would supernova if they were to find out about us. That appeals to him, but it wouldn’t be long before that would wear off and he’d get irritated by the fact that I don’t know which fork to use at dinner, I swear all the time, I don’t own a pearl necklace or a twinset, and I have no aspirations to bake cakes for the school fair. We’re incompatible. I just hope I can escape before he realizes that.
*
I lift up and check my phone. It’s nearly two a.m. We finally made it to his bed, and after a super-long lovemaking session that left us both sated and exhausted, Caleb has fallen asleep.
I sit up and look at him. He frowns a lot when he’s awake—I only realize that now, when he’s sleeping. He’s quite a serious guy. I know he works very hard. Colette has commented on how focused the guys all are, and how the women who snag them have to realize how important Hearktech is to all of them.
I hope he finds a Felicity who understand that. He deserves it.
I roll to the edge of the bed, rise, and creep out into the living room. I dress quickly, and gather my jacket and purse.
I allow myself one final look at Caleb in bed, sprawled out across the covers, his face serene in sleep.
Then, as quietly as I can, I let myself out.
Chapter Fifteen
Caleb
On Monday, I’m waiting by the mailroom, leaning on the doorjamb with my arms crossed, when Roxie arrives at eight thirty.
She stops when she sees me, her eyes widening, and she gives a little gasp of surprise.
“Morning,” I say.
She gathers her wits and lifts her chin. “Morning.” She slips by me into the room, puts down her purse, and takes off her jacket.
I follow her in and perch on the edge of the desk, watching her. She hangs her jacket on her chair, puts some envelopes into a pile, refills her printer with paper, and turns on her computer.
Finally, however, she looks at me. “Caleb…”
“I missed you,” I say mildly.
She drops her gaze and fiddles with a paperclip. “I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye. You were asleep, and I didn’t want to wake you.”
“It’s okay,” I say, even though it isn’t, and we both know it. “I suppose I’m to infer by it that you don’t want to see me again.”
She continues to fiddle with the clip. “I think it’s best.”
“Why?”
“Caleb…”
“I thought you liked me,” I murmur.
Her expression softens. “I do.”
“But not enough.”
“It’s not that.” She sits suddenly in her chair. “There are reasons it won’t work.”
“Like…”
“I don’t want to go through it all now, not here.”
“Then meet me after work tonight, and we’ll discuss it then.”
“No, Caleb. But thank you.” She looks up at me. “I had a great time. Please don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
I want to demand an explanation. I want to make her explain why she thinks we’re so wrong for one another. I want to know what terrible secret she’s hiding, so I can say it’s nothing and prove to her that I don’t care.
But I can’t make her do any of that. If she’s made up her mind, maybe she’s right, and we’re not right for each other.
“Do you want me hand in my resignation?” she asks. “I’ll understand if you do.”
“Of course not. I don’t come down here usually. We won’t see much of each other.” I hesitate. “I’m sorry if I made things awkward for you by coming onto you that night. I hope you don’t regret it.”
“I don’t,” she whispers.
I get to my feet. “All right. Stay safe, Roxie.”
“See you.”
I turn to leave, and she calls out, “Caleb?”
I stop and look over my shoulder at her.
“He was wrong. You’re the best son a man could ever have.”
I pause, then leave the room and take the elevator back to my office.
*
The next three days are the longest of my life. I spend most of them dreaming about her, and wondering what she’s doing. It’s like she’s haunting me. At the most inopportune moments, images of her flash through my mind—her red lips curving as she teases me; the soft, pale skin of her thighs; her green eyes staring into mine as I move inside her.
On the fourth day, after work, I drive over to her place and park just down the road.
I’m not sure yet what I’m going to say to her. I just need to talk to her, to ask her to see me again. I need to know why she thinks we won’t work.
I’m just about to get out of the car when I see her come
out of her apartment. She closes the door and then, walking quickly, she sets off in the opposite direction.
I get out of the car and follow her. Maybe she’s playing with the band tonight, I think, and I might be able to watch her perform.
Ignoring the fact that technically I’m stalking her, I swallow my unease and follow her for several blocks. Eventually, she stops, not at a bar, but at an Italian restaurant.
Is she meeting someone for dinner? My gut clenches with jealousy, and I stand in the shadows, hating myself for doing this, but unable to move. I watch her disappear into the restaurant. She’s gone for five minutes, and I’m about to move to see if I can find which table she’s at when she appears again.
She’s wearing a black mini skirt and a white shirt, and her hair is pulled back in a ponytail. She picks up a notepad and approaches a nearby table, and stands there listening as the customers talk.
She’s a waitress. She works at Hearktech during the day, and here at night, and occasionally plays in a band too. I remember the law books I saw in her apartment next to the computer. I think she’s studying as well, possibly taking an online law degree. Jesus. She puts even my work ethic to shame.
I watch her for a few minutes, entranced by her small, slim form moving around, and then I walk slowly back to my car.
*
Friday night, I have to go to a function with Seb, Harry, and Elen, some charity thing we’ve been part of, so it’s Saturday before I have time to see Roxie.
Early this time—just after nine—I drive out to her apartment again, park up, and get out. I go up to the front door, almost bumping into a woman coming out. She looks at the huge bouquet of roses I’m holding, smiles, and holds the door open for me, so I slip inside.
I go up the stairs to Roxie’s room, wondering if she’s still asleep. For the first time, I feel a flicker of uneasiness. Maybe I should have rung first. But I wanted to surprise her.
I hope she’s alone. You fucking idiot. This is the first time it occurs to me that she could have someone in there. What will I do if a guy answers the door in his boxers?
I stand outside her door and hesitate. Maybe I should just turn and go. Do I leave the flowers? Again, what if she’s not alone? Surely, she wouldn’t have gotten off with another guy in such a short space of time? But you don’t really know her at all, do you Caleb? I thought we had the spark of something special, but I was probably fooling myself.
I turn to go, and the door opens.
She’s talking as she comes out. I was right—she does have someone in there with her. I want to duck behind the pillar so she doesn’t see me, but I’m too late. I stand there like a fool with the roses in my hand and watch her exit the apartment.
She sees me immediately, and stops and stares—at the flowers, then at me. She looks different—her hair is twisted up in a tidy knot, and her face is free of makeup.
She’s not with a guy. Or, at least, not a grown-up. She’s carrying a little boy, maybe three or four years old.
And, even though the kid has blond hair, I immediately know by the way he’s snuggled up to her and the soft voice she’s using that it’s her son.
Chapter Sixteen
Roxie
For a moment, I think I’m going to faint. James squeals in my arms, and I loosen them hurriedly, aware I was squeezing him.
Behind me, my mother comes to the door, only then realizing someone’s there. “Oh!” she says, her eyes widening. She looks at me, then back at the man carrying the biggest bunch of roses I’ve ever seen. “Is this… Caleb?”
I’ve told her all about him, so it’s not surprising she recognized him from my description of “the most gorgeous man in the world and he wears a suit.”
“Yes,” I say faintly. James snuggles up against me, looking at the man shyly.
Mum steps past me and walks up to the speechless Caleb. “Good morning. I’m Roxie’s mother, Barbara.” She holds out a hand.
I’m not sure what I expect Caleb to do—maybe throw the roses on the floor and turn and walk off in the other direction. He doesn’t, though. Being Caleb, he pushes his awkwardness to one side, smiles at her, and takes her hand. “I’m Caleb Chase, ma’am. Very pleased to meet you.”
“We were just off out to the coffee shop for some breakfast,” Mum tells him. “Why don’t I take James and then you can follow us along when you’re ready, Roxie?”
I let her take my son out of my arms, too shocked to protest, and watch her smile at Caleb before descending the steps. When they’ve gone, I look back up at him, feeling the blood drain from my face again.
I’m not going to apologize. What we had didn’t call for heartfelt confessions, and what I’ve done with my life is none of his business.
Then I look at his face, into his eyes, and my bottom lip trembles. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I should have told you. But I liked you, and I wanted you to like me.”
I wait for him to grow angry, to yell at me for not telling him the truth. It’s happened before, and I’m sure it’ll happen a few more times before I meet a guy who’s willing to take James on as well as me.
Caleb tips his head to the side and studies my face. Then, to my complete and utter shock, he moves forward, slips a hand to the back of my neck, and kisses me.
I gasp, and then give a little moan as he presses me up against the doorjamb, his lips moving across mine with tender kisses. My head is spinning, my heart banging away against my ribs. I can’t believe he’s kissing me. Why isn’t he angry?
But when he finally lifts his head, there’s amusement on his face, not anger. “Sweetheart,” he murmurs. “You should have told me.”
I don’t know what to say. I look at the roses instead. They’re beautiful. “Are they for me?” I ask, hearing a little catch in my voice.
“No, they’re for the woman next door,” Caleb says wryly. “Of course they’re for you.” He kisses my forehead. “Why don’t we go inside, and you can find something to put them in.”
I back into my apartment, still bewildered. “I don’t own a vase. I’ve never been bought flowers before.”
Caleb stares at me. “You’re kidding me?”
“The only man who’s ever bought me flowers was my dad, on the day James was born.” I take them from him and go into the kitchen to find a suitable bowl.
Caleb follows me and leans against the fridge while I pour water into a bucket. “How old is he?”
“My dad?” I glance at him and wrinkle my nose as he raises his eyebrows. “James is four.”
“So you were…”
“Sixteen when I got pregnant. I had him on my seventeenth birthday.”
I put the roses in the bucket and place it on the table. “I’ll arrange them later.” I walk over to him. “They’re beautiful, Caleb, thank you.”
He takes my hand and leads me into the living room, where he pulls me down onto the sofa. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because in the past, guys have walked off in the opposite direction when they’ve found out I have a kid. I didn’t want to see that look on your face.”
He studies me, realizes I’m serious, and frowns. “I would never have done that.”
“I realize that now. But I couldn’t be sure.”
“Does James live here with you?”
“No. After he was born, I stayed living with my parents. They’ve been wonderful and have helped me bring him up. But I want to be able to support him myself, and there just weren’t any jobs in the town where they live. So, I decided to move to the city for a while, and try to earn some money and save up for my own place. Mum brings James here on some weekends, and other days I go to visit them. They’re only thirty minutes outside the city.”
“You must miss him, though,” Caleb says.
My throat tightens. “Yes. All the time.”
He nods. “And you’re doing several jobs to save up.”
“Yeah. And I’m studying, too. I’m taking an online course—I want to be a paralegal.
”
“Not a lawyer?”
“Maybe one day. For now, though, I’d be happy starting there, or even being a legal secretary. I hope that if I get this qualification, I’ll be able to get some kind of job in a law firm. That’s bound to pay better than waitressing or working in the mailroom.”
He opens his mouth, and I think that maybe he’s going to say I should have asked him for a better job, but he thinks better of it and closes his mouth again.
“What about James’s father?” he asks eventually. “Is he on the scene?”
“Vince sometimes pays child support, but that’s all. He has no interest in James. When he found out I was pregnant, he broke up with me. Dad has tried to get him more involved, but he doesn’t want to know. He has two kids by two other women, and he’s broke, so I’m lucky if the money shows up.” I study my hands. “I’m ashamed that he’s James’s father. And I’m ashamed that I got pregnant. I should have known better. I wasn’t stupid—I knew how babies were made, but we met at a party, and he gave me some line about not having any condoms on him but how he really liked me and couldn’t wait… I got pregnant the first time I had sex. How unlucky is that?”
“It happens,” Caleb says.
I shrug. I am ashamed. I’m in charge of my life now, such as it is—it’s not much, but it’s mine, and I’m in control. I choose where I work, whom I see. I don’t belong to anyone.
But sometimes, I get tired of being alone. Of being so free that I’m like a balloon, released to sail off into the stratosphere.
“Can you forgive me?” I whisper.
“I would’ve thought the kiss told you that.” He smiles.
I hold my breath. I can’t believe that he’s still interested in me despite me having a child. “So, what happens now?”
“I think,” he says thoughtfully, “that we’ll go down to the coffee shop and have a latte, and you can introduce me to your son.”
Chapter Seventeen
Caleb
Like a Boss Box Set: Like a Boss Series Books 1-4 Page 25
