Mind blowing sex. I hadn’t orgasmed like that in years. My ex stopped caring about that a while ago. And I’d been fine. It meant not worrying about getting pregnant again with babies he had no want for, and honestly, managing his life had been more than enough work to keep me busy.
But that…last night gave me a look into what a life with someone who actually cares about me could look like, and it’s terrifying.
Cleo squeals from somewhere in the cabin, but it doesn’t set off my fight-or-flight response. The bedroom is empty of kids, the ensuite light off, the bedroom door closed. Worry still tightens in my chest as I scoot out of bed and start for the door, listening to the world around me just in case.
All I hear is more laughter. The sound of the exhaust fan in the kitchen. Music, soft and barely audible. And my kids soundhappy.
Tears burn my eyes as I leave the bedroom and wander into the rest of the cabin. What I find is a mountain of blankets in front of the fire, which hadn’t been there when I’d left Caleb last night.
When I turn to the kitchen, my kids are wearing two oversized shirts—Caleb’s, I realise—and are helping him cook. No,bake.
There’s a tray of cookies cooling on a rack in the middle of the island, and a cake Cleo is decorating. There’s frosting all over her face, in her brows, on her upper lip, and she’s smiling in a way I haven’t seen since we left Albuquerque. Meanwhile, Arlo is standing with Caleb as they whip what I’m assuming is cream, except as soon as I come to a stop, the cream explodes from the mixer and splatters all over them.
I press a hand to my mouth as I take in the once-clean kitchen. Cupcakes rise in the oven, as well as what looks like another batch of cookies—except they have extra treats inside them from what I can tell, and they’re currently oozing out onto the tray. Dishes overflow in the sink, and the smell of sugar, butter, and chocolate fills the room, exacerbated by the oven and crackling fire.
“Mom!” Cleo yells, eyes wide. It’s almost comical with the icing making her brows blue and upper lip covered in a moustache.
Both Arlo and Caleb look over their shoulders to stare at me. This time, I can’t help but laugh. Both have similar brows and moustaches as Cleo, except now they have freckles made from whipped cream. I can already imagine the smell, and it both makes me laugh harder and also want to gag.
“Oh, my—” I press a hand to my mouth to suppress some of the laughter, but it doesn’t stop. “What is this?”
“We were trying to surprise you,” Cleo admits, my perfect little snitch. “But we made a mess.”
“A mess you aren’t touching,” Caleb says firmly, though with a smile. “You’re having a picnic with them. Regular chocolate chip cookies, loaded cookies, strawberry cupcakes, and a vanilla cake.”
My heart soars as I take it all in—especially him. “How—where?—”
“Would you believe me if I said I was an ingredients man?” he replies, smirking. “Turns out you don’t need much to make all of this.”
Tears burn my eyes, the sensation overwhelming. “Thank you,” I choke out.
Cleo rushes to my side and wraps her arms around me, Arlo following soon after. Suddenly, I’m covered in sweet frosting and already curdling cream, but I don’t care.
And damn it, Caleb is making it near impossible to keep any of my promises—to myself and to my kids.
I can’t helpbut observe him as he quietly washes the dishes while we watch a movie on his projector. Apparently, instead of a TV, he installed a pull-down screen above the fireplace and has a projector lined up on the opposite wall that he uses whenever he wants to watch anything that’s not on his phone.
While some action movie plays, I can’t make myself pay attention to anything but him. Cleo hadn’t stopped talking about him and how he made her a cup of tea when she woke up with bad cramps. She hadn’t wanted to wake me, so he helped herwith it. And when she’d mentioned wanting to make something, suddenly he had a shelf full of baking equipment they could use.
When Arlo woke, they’d gotten to work coming up with my surprise.Because Mom does so much for us, they said. If it weren’t for the fact they needed my strength, I probably would have crawled into the shower and cried myself into a stupor.
What the hell am I supposed to do?
I’d hoped they wouldn’t get attached to him. And honestly, I’d prayed his words last night had been a figment of my imagination. As painful as it is, I can’t imagine him fighting for me, only to realise later on this isn’t the life he wants. And then breaking their hearts all over again…
But just thinking about him giving up so easily makes my chest hurt in ways I never imagined. Because if he gives up, then what does that say about me? Am I an easy person to give up on?
I shouldn’t even be thinking about it, especially when my mind has to be on my kids and finding us a home. What I need is to get a job. And I’ll take anything. But I know I can’t leave this town, not yet. Not because of Caleb, although he’s a tempting reason to stay. Even though I don’t know him well, I can’t imagine he’d be anything like the last two men in my life.
He doesn’t give me the impression he’s unstable. Mentally, physically, or financially. It’s the emotion part I’m more worried about. From what I gathered during my conversations with his sister, he isn’t fond of big family life. And it’s for that reason I still have doubt twisting within me.
Because even though today was fantastic, and last night…life changing, it doesn’t change the fact that Caleb can pull off the occasional fun uncle vibes. But can he be more?
Eleven-year-olds do eventually get boredof their mothers, so I’m not surprised when they eventually leave to do their own thing in the bedroom with their devices.
Caleb appears beside me and claims the seat that’d once been Arlo’s, his long legs folding beneath him. “What did you think?” he asks, staring at the handful of cookies, cupcakes, and cake leftover.
“About the little picnic?” I reply, heart twisting painfully. “It was…unexpected.”
