“Caleb, seriously, what are you doing?”
“Are your brothers coming back for Christmas?” he asks.
“No, Banner and Ryot are staying in Chicago for ... wait, why am I answering that?” Hands on my hips, I stomp on the ground. “Caleb, why are you here?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” he asks, still painting. “Trying to remind you that I’m a good guy, that people make mistakes, and that even though I know our chapter is over, I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable living here.” He turns and faces me now. “I don’t know the full story of why you came back here, Nola, but I do know that you deserve a chance at happiness, and I refuse to be the man that keeps you from obtaining it. I know this is awkward, being in the same town again—I just want to make it less awkward.”
Oh, well, that actually seems really mature.
Call it the heightened season of joy or the sincere look in his eyes, but for some reason, I feel the layer of ice that surrounds my heart whenever he’s around slowly melt.
“Oh ... well ... thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He smirks. “Now pick up a roller. I’m not painting alone.”
“Okay, hold on a second,” I say, catching my breath from laughing so hard. “There’s no way that’s true.”
Caleb nods as he works the paintbrush along the baseboard. “I wish it weren’t, but yes, last year, when I was helping build the set for the summer theater program, my pants snagged on a nail. I didn’t realize and ended up ripping them right off, leaving me in shredded pants and underwear.”
I bend over, a hearty laugh coming out of me. “Oh my God, and in front of the children?”
“Unfortunately. I received many letters from angry parents. Needless to say, I wasn’t asked to help out this year, and if I’m being honest, the summer program didn’t pack the punch it normally does, and I know it’s because my woodwork wasn’t put to good use.”
“Out of fear of you showing everyoneyourwood.”
He raises one brow, which of course only makes me laugh some more. “All they saw was underwear, and they didn’t even get a good look because my blazing-white legs probably blinded them.”
I chuckle some more. “Most likely.”
“Okay, I shared, now you tell me—what’s the most humiliating thing that happened to you while you were in New York?”
“Man, where do I even start?” I ask, getting more paint on my roller. “There was the time I mistook an elderly gentleman for my blind date and talked to him for half an hour before I got a message from my real date saying he was upset I stood him up. The old man smacked his gums at me and smiled as I took off.”
“Oh hell.”
I shrug. “They happened to have the same name. It was a coworker that set me up; no picture was provided. Then there was the time I was put in charge of helping my boyfriend’s mom in the kitchen during Thanksgiving. The family was obsessed with Grandma’s cheesecake, and this was Grandma’s last Thanksgiving. She got enough energy to make her cheesecake one last time. I was asked to pull it out of the oven, but I didn’t realize it was in a springform pan, so I pushed my fingers up into the bottom, popped it out, and spilled the holy cheesecake all over the oven door.”
Caleb slowly turns around, eyes wide. “Noooo.”
I nod. “Yup. My boyfriend broke up with me that night. I didn’t blame him. I didn’t want to be around the family anymore either.”
“Wow, I think that might be worse than pantsing myself in front of children.”
“A close second.”
“Wait, Mrs.Gingerfield gave you, and only you, the recipe to her famous chutney?”
Caleb nods as we sit in the middle of the living room, taking a break.
“Why?”
“I made her a porch swing. She wanted to pay me, and I said I didn’t need her money, I just wanted to make sure she was comfortable while watching the neighborhood. So, in return, she presented me with a box. Inside the box was another box.” I laugh. “And inside that box was an envelope.”
“Stop, that’s not how she delivered it.”
“It’s exactly how she delivered it,” he answers. “And inside the envelope was a laminated card wrapped carefully in tissue paper. And on that card was the recipe for her chutney.”
“I can’t believe it. She hasn’t spoken that recipe to a soul. What did you do with it?”
