“He called me last night,” I tell Vivian.
Her laughter fades, and a frown of deep concern casts a dark shadow over her face. “Who, Jeremy?”
“Yes.”
“Did you pick up?”
“Only to hear what he had to say.”
“And?” She inches closer, the tension stiffening her shoulders.
I offer a shrug in return. “He said he wanted to talk. He wanted to apologize. I asked if he was going to apologize for telling Kaleb where I was. He said he wouldn’t apologize for doing the right thing, so I hung up on him.”
“So he is the one who told Kaleb.”
“I guess.”
“That utterly miserable sack of sh?—”
“Viv, it’s over. I obviously don’t ever want to see him again, or hear from him. I blocked his phone number, his emailaddress, every single social media account, all of it. Blocked, blocked, blocked.”
“Good. Now you need to deal with Kaleb.”
And get my life back.
By some miracle,I get Kaleb to meet me outside our favorite café, Le Parisien, the next day. He stands tall and proud in the rising morning wind beneath a grey, almost depressing, sky. With his hands in his pockets and his lips pressed into a thin line, he doesn’t give me much to work with.
“Hey, Kaleb,” I say with a slight shudder.
I’m wrapped in my winter parka. It’s one of those colder, uglier days after the rain. Real spring is still far out of our reach, unfortunately, so I’m sticking to my winter wardrobe for a little while longer.
“Let’s go in and have a hot chocolate or something, my treat,” I add when the silence becomes unbearable. Kaleb nods once and follows me inside.
We take one of the corner tables, along with two hot chocolates, complete with mini marshmallows and a plate of chocolate chip cookies. I ask for some salted caramel biscuits, as well, because it’s been on my mind all morning amidst bouts of nausea, likely on account of the stress of it all.
Kaleb watches me as I power through a cookie and a biscuit before I delve into the hot chocolate. I notice he’s watching me.
“I wanted sweet and salty. It felt like the right combo,” I mutter with a mouthful.
“Why am I here, Raina?” he asks, sounding downright exasperated.
It takes a lot of willpower not to snap at him for being so difficult. “Because we need to talk,” I say and set the mug aside. I guess the melting mini marshmallows will have to wait. “About the guys and me.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“First of all, lower your voice,” I hiss and lean forward, showing him a side of me he’s rarely seen. “Second of all, let’s get something straight right here, mister. Brother or not, I will smack you over the head if you don’t summon enough respect to sit here and talk to me in a civilized manner.”
Kaleb’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but to my relief, he finds what he needs to sit through the rest of this conversation, his shoulders dropping in what I can only assume is muted submission. “I’m listening.”
“Good. Here’s the thing,” I begin. “I didn’t know what the job was about when I took it, okay? I didn’t recognize the holding company’s name, and they didn’t use ‘Haus of Sin’ in the job description. I went there because it was almost a month’s worth of a paid gig at a time when I was desperate for cash. I had to survive.”
“Because Jeremy got you fired,” he mutters.
“Exactly. And Alex and the guys didn’t tell me it was them behind the job offer because they worried I might turn it down. Believe it or not, your opinion matters to me, Kaleb, and they knew that. But they also wanted me to succeed and to move on.”
“You could’ve just asked me for my help.”
“No, Kaleb. I had to handle it on my own. And you’ve got your own projects, your dream bike, that seminar in San Francisco. I’m never going to hold you back on account of my choices, and Jeremy was a terrible choice. The point is, I did it. I got through it on my own.”
