How am I going to get out of this one? Come up with something, anything, Nyah. Now of all days, why can’t you have things to do today?
“Fine,” I replied. Community service was exactly what this was—my penance for getting drunk last night. I owed him that much, I suppose.
After breakfast, I grabbed my purse and a cardigan and came back out of the bedroom to catch him loading the dishwasher and cleaning the counter. Why would he do that? It couldn’t be out of habit—I’d seen the state of his desk at work.
“I know you’re a clean freak,” he said, rinsing the washcloth, “and so before you start hyperventilating, I thought I’d clean up.”
Hmmm… He’s definitely up to something.My suspicion flared. There was no reason for him to be so nice without wanting something in return.
Caleb’sothercar was a Porsche.
I dismissed my made-up errands as things that could wait until next week, but begged off the Sea to Sky drive, which sounded way too much like a date for my tastes, and I wasn’t about to acknowledge the way my stomach flipped at the thought of it.
Instead, we drove around the harbourfront.
Caleb talked as he drove. “Dad used to bring us here to feed the geese in the summer,” he said, a faint smile touching his mouth. “Then we’d race to the ice cream truck and argue about who won—as if it wasn’t always Simon.”
There was something different about him in that moment. Softer. Less polished.
“Have you ever fed geese?” he asked.
“No,” I said.
When I was younger, food hadn’t been recreational. It hadn’t been something you fed to animals for fun. There were nights when a slice of bread and water were all I got. Nights I dug through garbage,desperate enough to ignore the smell, the shame—until I got caught. Until I paid for it.
“You wanna feed the geese?” he asked.
“Why not,” I said, forcing a lightness I didn’t quite feel. “First time for everything.” I glanced at him. “Simon’s the eldest, right?”
“Mmm.” He nodded. “Then Sophia. Then me. Cat was still a baby when Dad brought us here.”
“What are they like?”
“Successful.”
The word landed like a wall. Conversation closed.
We bought bread, fed the geese, then walked along the boardwalk in companionable silence. The sun warmed my skin, and when we sat on a bench, I let myself lean back and close my eyes.
“I’ve come here so many times,” he said. “Concerts. Exhibitions. Memories I’ll never forget.” His voice shifted, almost reverent. “Did you know over 450 community organizations run more than 4,000 events here every year?”
I nodded, letting the sun soak into my bones.Vitamin D, so healing. I cracked an eye open, catching him watching me. “What?” I asked.
“You’re not as horrible as I thought you were.”
I opened both eyes and turned toward him. “You don’t even know me well enough to make that judgment.” I tilted my head. “And you are exactly what I thought you’d be, by the way.”
He smirked. “Look who’s making judgments now.”
Tit for tat.I closed my eyes again, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing my reaction.
A moment later, he stepped away to take a call.When he returned, he stood directly in front of me, blocking the sun. “Nyah, should we go now?”
The sound of my name on his lips startled me more than it should have. It was the first time he’d said my name.
“No problem,” I said. “Go ahead. I’ll make my own way back.” I just wanted a few more minutes of warmth, of quiet, of not thinking. I wanted to enjoy the simple pleasure of just sitting and basking in the sun.
“I’ll drop you back,” he said. “I don’t want you falling over while you’re still hungover.”
