by Skyla Madi
“Eh.” I lift a shoulder. “He’s not my type.”
“Too much goodwill for you, you heathen?” Her eyes go wide, and she gasps. “Don’t tell me you prefer Buddha?”
“Too much dick for me,” I tell her. “And no. I don’t prefer Buddha.”
She shakes her head and cringes, her gray curls swinging around her ears.
“Honestly, Caleb—” She bursts with laughter and shields her face as she snorts like a pig. When she looks back to me, her face is crinkled with a cute smile that doesn’t just reach her eyes but her hairline too. “You’re funnier than usual. Normally, I have to beg you to smile. Are you going to tell me what you’re so chipper about this morning?”
“I’m going to New York,” I confess, shifting in my seat. “I told Marcus and Linda Claire I’m going to marry Cass—”
“What’s that, dear?” Her eyebrows lift, her eyes light up, and her mouth parts. “You’re getting married?”
Agnes lifts her tiny, frail arms from the table and clasps her chest. Then she cups her face, her eyes now watery. She’s happy, incredibly happy, and proud. And that makes me happy and proud, so much so I don’t have it in me to correct her. How can I? Her only semi-realistic want this late in life is for me to be happy. She tells me she prays every morning, and night, for two things. One, she prays that David Bowie’s death was just a hoax because “he’s too damn beautiful to die so young” and two, that I find happiness. I tease her about my happiness being her number two reason instead of number one, but there’s no competing with Bowie. She once called the Make a Wish foundation and told them she’s terminally ill with age and requires a meet and greet with Mr. Bowie himself. She wasn’t happy with their response. It took me two weeks to convince her not to send an aggressive follow-up email to whoever was in charge.
“I knew you two would sort it out.” She puts her hand on my forearm, and I glance down at it. “She’s a good girl—perfect for you—and sweet, and smart. A beautiful, God-loving woman you can lean on forever.” Her smile falters. “That poor girl.”
I laugh, enjoying Agnes’s liveliness. I try not to focus on how the fuck I’m going to turn her expectation into a reality.
“You know, Caleb,” Agnes starts, smoothing her hand over mine, gently squeezing it. “My late husband and I wanted children more than anything. I’ve told you we tried until well into our late forties to have a baby, but alas, it was never in the cards for us. I never understood why…until you.”
My heart stutters, and I shift uncomfortably in my seat thanks to the emotion bubbling in my chest.
“When you lost Penelope, and your mother passed, we had that conversation under the tree by the funeral home—do you remember?”
Swallowing hard, I nod. Agnes was the only one to comfort me since my father was busy with everything else. For the most part, he avoided me…and that made me feel like it was all my fault. I felt invisible that day, alone and hurting. I wished it was me in the box, buried under the dirt.
“I held you while you cried.” Tears spring to her eyes, her lower lip trembles, and my throat thickens. “You clung to me so tightly, you left small bruises on my skin that stayed for weeks.”
“Agnes—”
“Be quiet for a minute.” She taps her hand against mine, a tear dripping onto her cheek. The sight of it twists my stomach and punches my chest. “That day, under the tree, I knew exactly why I never had children. God was saving me for you, but in order for me to help you, he needed me to gather the wisdom and the life experience to guide you through the hardest parts of your life. There were plenty of those, weren’t there? For a while, I thought I failed you…and maybe I would have if it weren’t for Cassia Claire, but no matter.” Agnes releases my hand and takes my face, cupping my cheeks in her palms. “I’d have died a long time ago if not for you. You bring a smile to my face every week. You make me laugh when I shouldn’t, but most importantly, you make me burst with pride. You are a good boy—the best boy. Don’t ever forget it and don’t let anyone tell you any different.”
I cover one of her hands with mine and brush my thumb over the back. “I love you, Aggy. I’m lucky to have you.”
She smiles, and it warms my insides, then pushes my head away with a laugh. “You’re full of it.”
“Good morning!” A cheery, sugary voice echoes down the hall, and Agnes groans, rolling her eyes. “Are you awake, Mrs. McNamara?”
I straighten in my chair, happy I didn’t miss the nurse’s visit. They usually come on Wednesday, but Agnes intentionally changed the day to Thursday. I’ve missed their visit three weeks in a row as a result, but not this week. I caught on to what she was doing, and all it took was a phone call to the nursing unit to get me back on track. I call them every Monday to make sure Agnes hasn’t changed the day. She hates having me present. She claims she doesn’t want to add to my stress, but somebody has to look out for her, make sure the nurses are treating her right, and double check her medication.
“Of course I’m awake,” Agnes grumbles back. “It’s nearly lunch, for goodness sake.”
I laugh to myself as the petite nurse saunters into the room in her navy uniform and her brunette hair pulled back into a short ponytail. I remember her from last month. Suzie is her name, and this time, she’s carrying a large bag.
Agnes turns in her chair. “You don’t have to stay for this, Caleb.”
There’s something…tense about the way she’s sitting, as if she’s on edge. There’s no way I’m leaving—unless she has to get naked. I’ll gladly respect her privacy then.
“And miss watching you grunt and groan at this poor nurse for no reason? I’m not going anywhere. Besides, I promised you we’d have lunch together.”
“That’s sweet.” The nurse beams at me, her hazel eyes bright as she lowers the bag on the table. “You have a wonderful grandson, Mrs. McNamara.”
She agrees. “The best.”
I watch and wait, patiently, as the nurse prepares her things and takes Agnes’s blood pressure, three blood samples, and straps little sticky dots to her chest then closely monitors the beats through a machine. I’ve been present for countless appointments, and not once have they done what this nurse is doing right now. I frown as unease settles in my chest.
Agnes is keeping something from me.
When Suzie is finished running her tests, I pin Agnes with a stare she purposely avoids. “What’s going on?”
She pushes herself out of her seat and straightens her lilac dressing gown. “Nothing to worry your pretty little head about.”
“Agnes…”
“It’s nothing.” She waves me off on her way to the kitchen.
“Well,” Suzie interjects, zipping up her bag, “it’s not nothing. We have to keep an eye on it, but so far, things are looking okay.”
“What’re you talking about?” I turn to the kitchen. “What’s she talking about?”
Agnes gives me a look, one that demands I mind my own business, but how can I? If she tells me, I can help her keep an eye on it. I don’t waver in my stare back. Eventually, Agnes caves with a bratty sigh.
“They’re concerned about my heart health.”
I balk. “Your heart health? That sounds fucking serious to me.” I push out of my seat and walk over to Suzie, who blushes on my approach. “Who’s her emergency contact?”
The nurse turns a page on Agnes’s clipboard. “Bree M—”
“Bree lives in New York,” I cut in. “Put my name down too, please.”
“Caleb—” I cut my eyes at Agnes, and she rolls her eyes as she flicks on the electric kettle I ordered through Amazon for her.
It’s from the UK. Hers stopped working, and honestly, I grew tired of her complaining about microwaving her tea. I give Suzie my contact number and email, then the nurse confirms a visit for the same day next week with Agnes, who grumbles at her some more, before finally leaving. When she’s gone, I stare at Agnes, who ignores me like a pissed-off cat.
“Why wou
ld you keep that from me?” I ask, genuinely fucking hurt.
“Did you see her shoes? Filthy.” I stare at her until she caves with a heavy exhale and finally looks at me. “I don’t want you to worry. You’ve got enough on your plate, and I’m fine.”
I saunter toward the laminate kitchen countertop that divides us. “If they’re worried about you, you’re not fine.” I rake my teeth over my lower lip, my mind running a million miles an hour. “I-I can cancel my trip to New York—”
“Caleb Andrews, don’t you dare! I’ve been alive for eighty-seven years. I know when I’m fine and when I’m not fine.” She touches a hand to her chest. “I am okay, and if you cancel your trip, I will never speak to you again.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, really?”
“Really.”
She’s bluffing, of course, but there’s no fighting her. She’s as stubborn as me. “All right, I believe you, but if you die on me, I swear to God—”
“You will do no such thing.” She points her index finger at me as the kettle continues to bubble to boiling point. “I refuse to die until after your wedding, and maybe after you have children. Then I’ll know you’ll be okay.”
I blow air out of my cheeks. There’s no winning an argument with her, and for now, I give up. I’ll just call the nursing staff and ask them to see her twice a week while I’m gone.
“Please tell me it’s a church wedding.” Her eyes soften. “Because if not, what the hell am I waiting around for?”
I chuckle, despite my dampened mood. “We’ll get married at Dad’s church, and you can stand right next to me.”
“Promise me.”
“I promise,” I tell her, knowing I’m in no position to promise her anything. Cassia hates me. She might always hate me. I turn away from Agnes, in fear she’ll see the lie I told in my eyes, and I stroll back to the table. Sighing, I pluck the top book off her stack of five. “We need to keep your heart rate down and I think—” I open the book and flick through. “Alejandro’s muscular, quivering buttocks are too much for you.”
“Ah!” she shrieks. “Caleb David Andrews!”
And I laugh.
Chapter Twelve
C A S S I A
The landing into Sky Harbor Airport comes smooth and quick, and soon after, Caleb and I are collecting our luggage off the belt. I can’t believe I’m here in Arizona. After all this time. It’s infinitely warmer here, and the sky is blue and bright with no threat of snow any time soon.
I squeeze the handle of my suitcase and wring my handbag’s strap in my hand. The moment the plane took off from the JFK airport, my nerves went into overdrive, so much so the old woman across the aisle from me leaned over and told me to stop bouncing my leg and to take valium like everybody else. Thankfully, Caleb switched seats with me so I was away from the scowling cow of a woman and placed his hand on my thigh whenever my nervous bouncing became too much, even for him. It wasn’t the flight that made me nervous, I love flying. It was what I knew was waiting for me on the other side that crippled me with unease.
Warm fingers glide along my palm and thread between mine, holding my hand tight. “You look like you want to throw up,” Caleb says, laughing softly.
I swallow and try not to think about the uncomfortable heat searing up my spine. “I just might.”
Father Andrews and Penelope are here somewhere, waiting for us, and when they take us back to Paradise Valley, my parents won’t be far away. For the first time since I left, immediately following our massive blow out, we’ll be in the same place. I have nothing to show for my time away except a busted relationship with an ex-roommate and a dead-end job. My stomach turns. As of this morning, I don’t even have that. I accomplished nothing; that’s all my father will see. I threw a tantrum, ran away for a year, and returned with nothing to show for it. I thought about mending the bridges between us, but how can I? I can’t face them jobless and—practically—homeless. Caleb strokes his thumb over my hand, and it’s comforting, it really is, but it’s not enough. To make matters worse, Father Andrews and I have a…tense…relationship. I lied to his face—on multiple occasions—and according to him, I led Caleb off the straight and narrow path he’d been trying so hard to keep him on. I’m also ninety-nine percent sure he insinuated I was a whore. What does he think of me now? And Penelope? She must think I’m an asshole for leaving Caleb behind.
“Hey.” Caleb cuts in front of me and cups my face, forcing me to look at him. His green irises are vibrant and breathtaking. I almost forget what my problem is. “Why are you in your head so much?”
“I-I didn’t think this through. I was excited by the thought of being here with you, but I didn’t factor in other complications.”
Releasing my face, he wraps an arm around my waist and eases me closer to him, until my soft tummy presses against his firm one. Dropping my handbag and my suitcase, I inhale and smooth my palms against his clothes chest. He smells perfectly divine, the scent of his crisp, clean cologne cutting through the obscure airport aroma.
“Complications?” he asks.
“My parents. Your father and sister, the entire Paradise Valley community.”
I don’t know much about what happened in Paradise Valley after I left, but I know Caleb’s behavior was exposed, his mother’s infidelity too. Fiona told me everyone found out about Caleb’s party, her overdose, and there were a few rumors circulating about me too, regarding my relationship with Caleb, my apparent X-rated romp with his father, and just about every other member of the church—men and women alike. I can handle rumors, but the thought of my parents hearing the lies kills me.
Caleb caresses my back and gently kisses the corner of my mouth. I relax in his touch, and a man huffs at us as he walks passed, but Caleb pays him no mind, planting another kiss on the other corner.
“You came to Paradise Valley to support me?” he asks, and I nod. “So, if you decide to see your parents, I’ll be there to support you.”
I look into his eyes, and he doesn’t waver. “You’d face them with me?”
Nodding, he drags his fingers to my lower back and toys with the hem of my hoodie, then my white tee underneath. “Would it make you feel better if I told you I’m on good terms with them?”
He kisses my lips and slips his cool hand against my bare, warm back. Goosebumps spring along my skin, and I shiver. “Define good terms…”
For all I know, he means they haven’t blown up at each other during church on Sundays yet.
“Before I left New York, I’d have dinner with them at least once a week.”
I lift my eyebrows and search his face. “You’re lying. My dad hates you—more than anyone else on the planet, besides me.”
Caleb feigns insult. “First of all, ouch. Secondly, hated, that’s past tense. And lastly, he doesn’t hate you. Not even close.” Sighing, he smiles at me. “We don’t have to see them. They don’t even have to know you’re here.”
I peer over his shoulder. Why was he having dinner with my parents? Caleb and I were over the minute I left town. He had no obligation to make amends or keep them company in my absence, but he did. While I was in New York drinking, partying, and dating, he was here with his family, and my family, being a…my heart swells.
A good man.
I painted him as the villain. When he sauntered into my mind on a nightly basis and my blood burned for him, I poisoned my own heart with venomous assumptions. I made myself believe that while I was still pining over him, he wasn’t thinking about me. I hated him more and more every night—undeservedly—when the whole time, he was here being selfless, mending bridges, and keeping everyone happy. I made a mistake leaving him. I was foolish and stubborn and fucking selfish to ask him to uproot his life on the spot. Then, to subject him to so much torment, and turmoil, in New York…how can he still want to be with me? How can he love me?
Bringing my stare back, I glance at his lips. “Will you kiss me?”
Without hesitation, without a why or a how, he closes th
e gap and presses his mouth to mine. Instantly, I slip under a veil of calmness, surrendering all that I am to his kiss. It commands my every breath, quiets my every thought. Melting into him, I slide my hands up his neck, committing his thickness to memory, admiring the column of his throat, the impressive hill of his Adam’s apple too. Caleb hums with approval. I barely hear it, but it’s enough to make his throat vibrate against my fingertips and ripple down my body to the apex of my thighs. He slips his tongue between my lips and tightens his grip around me. It’s surreal to me that I’m standing here with him. A few months ago, I wouldn’t have believed it if someone told me I’d see Caleb again, let alone kiss his lips again. I thought the part of my life that involved him was over. At the time, I was filled with so much disdain I was happy to go the rest of my life without seeing his face. Now, the thought of going a second without him sends sharp anxiety pains shooting through my chest. He’s the only one who has accepted me for who I am. The only one who’s encouraged me to do whatever I want, rules be damned. He’s never tried to change me, control me, or cage me, and for that, I’d dedicate the rest of my life to him. Only him.
A crazy thought pops into my head.
I’m going to ask him to marry me.
Right now.
“Ahem.” A deep clearing of a throat shatters the bubble Caleb pulled me into, and the sounds of the airport come roaring back. “When you’re ready, Caleb.”
I grimace at the familiar deep tenor of his father’s voice, and Caleb releases me, gently squeezing my bicep. Heat swells in my cheeks, burning bright enough to be seen from space, and I turn my head in Father Andrews’ direction, meeting his cloudy, green gaze. I offer a tight smile. The recent plot twists in his life haven’t been kind to him. He doesn’t look bad just…exhausted, and his hair is grayer at the temples.
“Cassia.” He holds out his hand, and I take it without hesitation and step into his embrace as he plants a quick, chaste greeting kiss on my cheek with his firm, dry lips. “Good to see you. You look well.”
“You too,” is all I manage to respond, stepping back and releasing his hand.