by Aly Martinez
I pick up immediately. “Hey, you!”
“You’ll be here in two days?” he asks, and I can hear the smile in his voice.
Caleb and I have been playing this long-distance game for a few weeks now. It’s taken me a lot longer than I expected to get my life tied up in Georgia. Moving across the country is not exactly an easy feat. It’s worked out though, because they did eventually move Sarah to a court-mandated rehabilitation center. Her trial was rushed due to the questions around her mental stability. I didn’t even have time to get up there before it was over. Jesse actually spoke on Sarah’s behalf. I love that tiny woman.
Sarah was sentenced to ten months in a rehabilitation center. It specializes in traumatic brain injuries, but they will also be working with her through her grief over Manda’s death. Honestly, this is the best thing that could have ever happened to her. I freaked out when Caleb sent the text to tell me.
Hunter tried to convince me to stay in Savannah while Sarah is away in rehab, but I refused. I need to get up to Chicago and start a new photography business. I have a few leads on companies that are looking for photographers, but I’m determined to start my own business again. Plus, I’ll be close enough to visit Sarah on the weekends. This decision has nothing to do with Caleb.
Okay, I’m totally lying. It has a lot to do with Caleb. I love every minute of our nightly conversations. I can’t wait to get to know him in person.
“Yep. Two days and you get to take me to dinner. Seriously, you are a freaking lucky man.”
“I am.” He laughs at my sarcasm.
“I’m so excited to see you,” I breathe.
“You should be. I am pretty amazing. Seriously, you are a freaking lucky lady.” He throws my sarcasm right back at me.
I love the banter I have with Caleb. He’s sharp and can keep up with even the most sarcastic of conversations. Don’t get me wrong. He is sexy as fuck, and I’ve had many of dreams about him without his clothes on. But there is nothing sexier than a man with a sense of humor and a quick wit.
“I get in at noon. You think you could pick me up?”
“Of course! I’ll take the day off. I’ll make Brett cover for me or something.”
“Speaking of Brett… Have you told him that we…talk?”
“No. Have you?” he asks with a shocked curiosity.
“No, but I’ve only talked to him a few times since I got back. Mainly just stuff about neighborhoods and stuff in Chicago. I was thinking about calling Jesse and seeing if she wanted to go out for drinks when I got back though.”
“Jesse? Really? Won’t that be weird?”
“Why? Oh God, do you think she will think it’s weird?” I ask, embarrassed. I just assumed, but now that he mentions it, I can definitely see how Jesse might feel weird about hanging out with Brett’s ex-sister-in-law.
“No. Knowing Jesse, she is already baking muffins for your ‘Welcome to Chicago’ basket.”
“Ohhhhh, I get a welcome basket! Even more reason not to miss my flight on Thursday.”
“Hey, am I not enough to keep you from missing your flight?”
“Caleb, are you searching for reassurance? Wait, do you have a secret welcome present of your own for me?”
“Actually, I do.” He starts laughing, and I realize I walked right into that one.
“But the real question is, can it compete with Jesse’s muffins?” I say with a huge grin, knowing this will only making him laugh harder.
“Oh shit, Emma. I have laughed more in the last three weeks than I have in years.” He pauses for a second before finally responding to my earlier comment. “I can’t wait to see you, too.”
“Good,” I breathe.
“So Thursday at noon?” he asks.
“Yes, Thursday, but don’t think you are getting out of talking tomorrow night.”
“I would never dream of it. Goodnight, Emmy.”
“Night, Caleb.”
I TOSSED and turned in bed for hours thinking about Emma. Usually when I can’t sleep, I head to the box locked away in the closet, but that didn’t even feel right tonight. I’m excited to see her on Thursday, but at the same time, I’m terrified. Emma and I have been getting along really well. I’ve loved every second of our nightly conversations. She’s smart, funny, and witty. And as much as I want to see her and fuck her senseless, I’m not looking forward to the shitstorm that will surely follow her arrival. She is Sarah’s little sister. Of all people for me to decide to start dating, it had to be her.
I know that there is only one place that will bring me any peace tonight.
“Hey, love.” I walk up to Manda’s grave and settle into my usual position next to her headstone.
I take the small black velvet box out of my jacket pocket and rest it on the ground next to me. My fingers glide over the indention of her name. I hate this fucking headstone, and not just because it has the date signifying the end of her life. I hate it because it says ‘Manda Baker.’ No matter how many times I see it, it always burns.
Manda and I had a very tumultuous relationship. She was feisty as hell, always giving me shit about something. For the first year of our relationship, I swear we broke up biweekly. She’d storm out of my house and go back to her place. We wouldn’t speak for a full day, but one of us always gave in. We couldn’t stay away from each other. I showed up at her apartment more times than I care to admit with an apology, a.k.a. sushi and wine. When it was her turn to apologize, she always brought burgers and beer. The food was usually always cold and the alcohol always warm because the minute the door opened we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.
This on-again-off-again process worked for about two years. Then one night on my way to pick up the customary sushi, after a two-day breakup, I finally broke. I was done with the bullshit games. I wanted to settle down and start a real life together. I was sick of the back-and-forth. We both knew we were in this for the long haul, even if we did fight like cats and dogs. Manda was my life, and I was more than ready for it to begin.
That night, I took a detour, and instead of sushi and wine, I showed up with a diamond ring.
“WILL YOU marry me?” I ask, kneeling on her front steps just as she pulls open the front door.
“Um, no,” she says shortly, staring down at me in disbelief.
“What do you mean, no? I’m not joking. This is serious, Manda. Marry me!” I give up on asking and start telling her.
“Yeah, still no,” she says as she turns around and walks into her apartment, leaving the door open behind her.
“I just proposed to you!” I shout.
“And I said no. You didn’t even bring any wine.” She frowns then gives me a smile and wink.
“Are you fucking with me here? I brought you an engagement ring and you’re pissed I didn’t bring wine? Manda, I am very, very fucking serious about this. So please, if you are joking, stop.”
“I’m not joking!” she yells at me.
“Manda, I love you. I’m sick of this on-again-off-again game that we play. I don’t want to do this with you for the rest of my life. I want more—I want you.”
“Caleb, we can’t get married,” she sadly whispers, suddenly becoming serious.
“Why not? I have a ring. I have you. I don’t need anything else.”
“We fight all the time! What kind of marriage is that going to be?”
“We fight. So what?” I let out a loud frustrated groan. What I hoped would be some fucking magical moment has turned into the shittiest proposal known to man. I’m standing here, yelling at her to marry me. I take a deep breath and try to calm myself down. “Look, I’m sorry. I have no idea what we were even fighting about the other night, but I’m sorry.” I roughly run my hands through my hair.
“I’m not mad about that anymore.”
“Then come here, beautiful.”
She shakes her head, but I can see her resolve start to slip. I storm across the room and pull her into my arms.
“What if we get a divorce?” she asks, a
nd it makes me stumble.
“Is that what you’re scared of—a divorce?”
“No, I’m scared that if we get married things will change. Then we will get a divorce, and then I’ll lose you forever. At least the way things are now, I know you’ll always come back.”
“Manda, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. We can make crazy little redheaded baby girls who are sure to land me in jail for killing their high school boyfriends. I want to grow old and wrinkly with you.”
“I’ll never get wrinkly,” she interjects, but I just keep talking.
“I know we fight, but it’s always about stupid shit. We are two stubborn people. We’re always going to argue. But this, right here, is what I don’t want anymore. I don’t want you to disappear for a few days every time we disagree about something. I want you to get pissed and march your hot little ass back to our bedroom and pout for however long you would like.”
She starts laughing and pinches my stomach.
“Manda…” I pull away and place a kiss to her lips. “I’ll apologize with sushi and wine every night for the rest of my life if that is what it takes. I just want to be with you, fighting and all.”
“You want to move in together, too?”
“I’ve heard most married couples live together, but I could be wrong. I’ve never really done this before,” I say playfully.
“No, jerk. I mean like…you want to live together now?”
“Say the word and I’ll start packing your bags tonight.” I squeeze her tighter, and she quickly melts into my body.
“I love you,” she mumbles into my chest.
“I love you too.” I release a content sigh. “Was that the word?” I ask while resting my chin on the top of her head.
“No,” she replies, causing me to let out an impatient growl. She laughs for only a second before looking up into my eyes. “Okay.”
“Okay?” I ask in shock.
“Yeah. That was the word,” she says, causing me to burst out laughing. I can’t even begin to contain my excitement. “Can I see that ring again?” She steps out of my grasp with a huge smile on her face.
“No, sorry.”
“What? Why not?” she shrieks.
“See, my fiancée was pretty pissed off when I showed up with a ring instead of wine, so I need to head out and exchange it. You know, got to keep the old ball and chain happy.” I shrug then turn to head for the door.
“Caleb, give me my ring!” She jumps on my back before I get even a few steps away.
We wrestle around for a few minutes before I pin her to the ground. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the emerald-cut diamond ring and slide it onto her tiny finger. It’s so big she probably could fit two fingers inside of it—but she doesn’t take it off.
That one night was the happiest moment of my life. Manda and I never got married. Don’t get me wrong. I tried. She moved in with me the following week, but she would never set a date for the wedding. We fought almost weekly about it, including on the way to the restaurant the night she died.
When Manda died, she didn’t just leave me alone. She left me to grieve. Amanda Baker. Fucking Baker. I’ve never hated that name more. Her headstone should read Jones. She was mine, and the entire world should know it.
AFTER A long six a.m. flight from Savannah, I finally arrive in cold-ass Chicago. I’m sure the city is beautiful, but when I left, it was seventy-four degrees. It’s the middle of March, and the snow flurries are still floating through the air in my new city. I have no idea what I’ve gotten myself into by moving up here. I’m just glad I at least have something—or more specifically, someone—to look forward to.
While riding the escalator down to baggage claim, I’m trying to keep my excitement at bay when I catch sight of the gorgeous wide shoulders waiting at the bottom. I wouldn’t be able to tear my eyes away even if he weren’t waiting for me. His jeans ride low and his dark green button-up clings to his body. Shit, is this the way guys feel when checking out girls? Because I’m not just staring right now—I am straight-up ogling him. As I step off the escalator, dragging my large suitcase behind, he flashes me a bright smile. I give myself away as I jog over to meet him.
I’m not exactly positive how you greet someone you have met once but have been talking to every single night for weeks. I’m usually all about the hug, but I can’t figure out what to do with Caleb. If you ask me what I want to do? I would throw him down, right here and now, on the cold airport floor. I’d lick every inch of his defined body, but I’m classier than that—at least in public.
Instead, I stop just in front of him and say, “Hey, you.” It’s kind of my go-to phrase at this point. I shove my hands in my jacket pockets to keep from touching him.
“Hey, Emmy.” He smiles a breathtaking grin before pulling me against his hard body. I guess Caleb is a hugger, too. I go all too willingly into his arms, and he squeezes me tight before releasing me.
“You have more bags?”
“No, just this. The guys are driving up the rest of my stuff in a few weeks.”
“The guys?” He lifts a questioning eyebrow.
I roll my eyes and shake my head at his jealousy. “Oh hush.” I gently slap his chest but immediately wish I hadn’t. I have to turn and look away to keep from moaning when my hand meets his firm pec. Oh shit. Caleb is even hotter than I remember.
“Come on, sweetheart.” He throws a casual arm around my shoulders and guides me outside.
We stroll through the parking lot, chatting about the trip, when suddenly we stop next to a shiny black…truck.
“You drive a truck?” I ask, surprised and even slightly confused.
“I figured a Southern girl like you would appreciate it. Why the surprised face?” He leans over to lift my bag into the back.
“Uh, because some guy named Eli is using his truck to help me move in a few days,” I say with a little more attitude than I needed, but I can’t help but feel like Caleb pawned me off on someone else. If he didn’t want to help, that’s fine, but he could have just told me that. Now I feel awkward for even having asked him to pick me up today. Perfect—he probably felt obligated.
“No, my friend Eli is helping Sarah move,” he says very calmly but still manages to pack some unexpected asshole into it.
“What? That’s the same thing! She’s in rehab—I’m moving her stuff.”
He leans his back against his truck, and I can tell that he is trying to choose his words. And he’ll probably even apply a little sugarcoating too.
“Caleb?” I demand a response. “Can you enlighten me here? If you didn’t want to help, that’s fine, but you could have just told me that. I don’t want to be a burden on you just because you are trying to sleep with me. Jesus.” I throw my hands in the air and head back toward the airport. “Forget it. I’ll call a fucking cab!” I shout, walking away. Yeah, I’m acting like a child, but I can’t help but feel a little put off.
“Jesus, what the fuck, Emmy?”
“Emma,” I correct over my shoulder just to be a bitch.
Caleb doesn’t follow me, but he doesn’t let me get very far before he shouts, “I’m not helping Sarah! You can ask me for whatever you want, but I flat-out refuse to help her.”
I freeze as his words penetrate my mind. Then I quickly swing back around to face him.
“Wait, you still hate her?” A lot of things suddenly make more sense.
“Was that ever in question? Yes, I fucking hate her! She killed my fiancée!”
Oh damn, this is bad. Really fucking bad. I slowly walk back over to his truck when I realize that we are slinging cusswords across the airport’s short-term parking lot.
“I just thought… I mean, Brett said you carried her out that night she broke down. And you were at the hospital, and you kept me updated for the last few weeks. I just assumed you had…gotten over it.”
“Gotten over it?” he asks incredulously before laughing. “Emma, she killed my fiancée!” he repeats, you know,
just in case I didn’t hear his declaration before.
I shake my head in frustration. “She didn’t kill her, Caleb.”
“Oh really?” He once again laughs humorlessly.
How the hell did Caleb and I never have this conversation in the four weeks we have been talking? We’ve talked about Manda, we’ve talked about Sarah, and while it was never really in depth, I just figured it was an understandably sensitive subject for him. I’m not stupid. I knew he was never going to love Sarah or anything. But hating someone is a totally different ballgame than just disliking them. I can’t help but feel a little duped.
“Why am I just finding out about this now?” I ask.
“It was never a secret!” he yells before dropping his voice again. “You knew I hated her that day at the hospital. Nothing’s changed. It’s not some magical feeling that comes and goes. Damn it!” He once again starts yelling, and this time I feel the hate seeping from his voice.
“You carried her out! You stayed overnight at the hospital just so she wouldn’t be alone! That’s a hell of a way of showing you hate someone!” I shout back.
“I did all that for Manda, not Sarah!” He sucks in a deep breath, regaining his calm. “I hate your sister, but Manda loved her. And that night, I just did what Manda would have wanted.”
“Shit,” I whisper.
“Yep. ‘Shit’ covers it. And, Emmy, the updates? Those were for you. Again, not Sarah. You can’t expect me to help her. Not after everything that’s happened. You just can’t.”
“Well, this is going to be one hell of a problem then, Caleb.” I step closer now that things have slowed down. “I just moved all the way across the country to devote myself to helping her.”
“I know you did. And I know she needs it.” He lets out a frustrated growl. “Damn it, I knew this was going to be bad. I fucking knew it.” He bangs his hand against the side of his truck.
And he’s right—this is bad. It really sucks to have to let Caleb go, but I know what I have to do. As excited as I was at the prospect of starting something with him, this move was about Sarah.