The words hollowed me out. Taylor had mentioned the baby when he picked me up from the airport. I remembered the moment vividly—and how I’d said nothing. I’d been too wrapped up in my father’s ultimatum, too distracted to offer even basic compassion.
“I swear if we didn’t need this job,” Martina continued, sniffing, “I would have told him what a selfish son-of-a-bitch he is and?—”
I backed away before I could hear the rest.
Nyah was right. Completely, brutally right.
Her words replayed in my head like a slap. I squeezed my eyes shut and covered my ears, as if I could physically block them out. Everything I’d heard—from my siblings, my friends, the women I dated—looped endlessly, crushing in their consistency.
I collapsed onto my bed and passed out, only to be jolted awake by a nightmare. I was being pushed off a cliff into darkness. Hands shoved me forward as sardonic laughter echoed around me—mocking, cruel. I recognized the faces: my brother, my sister, and her husband, Martina and Taylor.
And then Nyah.
9
CALEB
Monday morning, Nyah breezed into the office right at eight. I was in my office, but I heard the way she greeted Amy like nothing in the world was wrong.
“Good morning, Sunshine!” Bright, effortless. The kind of presence that made everyone else feel slightly off-balance by comparison.
Amy hadn’t been herself. I’d made her nervous for weeks. I’d noticed the tight set of her mouth and the nervous energy when I walked in and greeted her each morning.
The lilies arrived shortly after.
That part I knew for certain, because I’d ordered them myself and watched the delivery confirmation like a lunatic.
I imagined Nyah opening her office door and stopping short when the fragrance hit her. I pictured her standing there, confused, inspecting the card.
“Truce?”
I’d written that single word, hoping she wouldappreciate the gesture. I’d been away the previous week, and in my mind, I hoped the distance had softened things.
Minutes later, Nyah stormed into my office carrying the flowers like a weapon. She didn’t bother with pleasantries. Stopping in front of my desk, she demanded, “Did you put these on my desk?”
I leaned back in my chair, keeping my tone even. “No, I didn’t.”
The relief on her face was instantaneous.
“The delivery man did,” I added, unable to resist the grin. “Do you like them? Amy told me lilies are your favourite.”
She whacked the flowers onto my desk hard enough to make the pens jump. “What do you want, Caleb?”
I thought flowers might smooth things over. They always had before. I hadn’t counted on the sheer distrust in her eyes. The flowers hadn’t softened a damn thing. If anything, I think they’d insulted her.
“Like the card says,” I replied. “Truce?”
She leaned forward, palms pressing into my desk, invading my space in a way that would have intimidated anyone else. “You forget that I’ve heard you apologize before. And this doesn’t count as one.” She shoved the flowers toward me. “As I said the last time I saw you, do not speak to me at all. We can co-exist without interaction. Anything you need from me can be conveyed through email. Clear?”
She didn’t wait for my response. The door slammed behind her, rattling the glass.
I sat there for a long moment, staring at the flowers as they’d personally betrayed me. I tried to understand where I went wrong. Did she think my sudden change of attitude was a game? A trick? Another manipulation?
When I walked into her office a short while later, she startled badly enough to prove she hadn’t heard me approach.
“How would you like me to apologize?” I asked.
She leaned back against her desk, hands clasped together, eyes narrowed in a way that made it clear she wasn’t impressed by words. “The best way would be to show me you mean it. I will believe it, and I may even accept it when I actually see a change in you. Now, excuse me, I have work to do.”
