I had proved myself.
The pride in my father’s eyes made me regret every wasted year, every argument, every moment I’d chosen immaturity over accountability. I promised myself then that I would never go back to being that person.
When my father announced he was taking me to lunch—again—I stopped him. “I want to invite Nyah,” I said. “This contract was a joint effort. She deserves to be part of the celebration.”
I was already picturing it as I walked down the hall toward her office.I’ll order champagne at the restaurant.I smiled to myself.I’m sure she’d like that.
And for the first time in a long while, the future didn’t feel like something I had to outrun—it felt like something I was finally walking toward.
19
CALEB
Istood just outside Nyah’s office when I heard her squeal.
She was on the phone.
At first, I didn’t register the words—only the tone. Joy. Pure, unfiltered joy. Then her voice carried clearly through the slightly open door.
“Hi, baby. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow!”
My steps slowed, my hand hovering uselessly near the doorframe as I realized I was listening to something that had nothing to do with me—and yet, suddenly, everything to do with me.
“There are a lot of surprises tomorrow, sweetheart,” she continued, her voice warm. “I hope you like all of them. Now, just make sure you have your lunch and chew your food properly, okay?”
I frowned, my confusion growing.
“I love you too, baby.”
The words landed with a strange, hollow thud in my chest. Before I could fully process it, the call ended. Through the narrow gap in the doorway, I watched her close her eyes and clutch the phone to her chest, as if she were holding something precious, something irreplaceable.
I forced myself to move and walked in moments later, rubbing myhands together, trying to sound lighter than I felt. “Would you like to celebrate by going out for lunch with Dad and me?”
She opened her mouth to answer—but her phone rang again.
She glanced at the screen and excused herself.
I watched her expression change as she listened. Frustration replaced softness.
When she hung up, she sighed and chewed on the end of her pen.
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
“Yes, it will be,” she said absently. “I just have to figure out where to get a rental car. It’s a long weekend, and mine won’t be ready from its service check.” She flipped through the hotel directory. “Just as long as I meet the bus on time. Everything else can wait until I’ve got him back in my arms.”
The words landed like a punch, dragging a surge of jealousy through me before I could shut it down
“The… bus?” I asked.
She glanced up at me, fingers tapping a number into her phone. “Lucas’ bus. I’ve been miserable all summer, and tomorrow I’ll finally have him back.”
Lucas. The name echoed in my head like a warning bell.
I backed slowly toward the door, forcing a smile that felt brittle on my face. “That’s great,” I said. “I’m happy for you.”
So much for lunch. So much for champagne!
My fatherand I walked to the restaurant, a place designed for discretion, where business deals and family conversations coexisted behind crisp white tablecloths and low voices. The maître d’ greeted my father by name and guided us to a table tucked away from the windows, shielded from the hum of the lunch crowd.
