Nursing Myself Back: (A Tryst of Fate Series Novel - Book 3)

by Kara Liane

  The boys don’t have girlfriends yet, but I know they’re interested, and that day will soon come. I have no problem with that notion. High school is a tricky thing and can be a bitch to navigate. I certainly can’t imagine what it’s like nowadays. All three of my kids do their homework with no complaint and keep up with their studies. They each earn solid As and Bs. Leah, thankfully, isn’t boy-crazy—I have a little more time before that kicks in. She has a good head on her shoulders, so I doubt I’ll have any issues in that regard anyway.

  I already had the talk with each of them a few years ago. They know they can come to me with anything, and they certainly know they can call upon Alexi or any one of the guys or gals. An image of Caleb enters my head, and in my mind I picture him sitting with the kids and giving them fatherly advice. I shake my head to clear it away—nope, not going there.

  I’ve been holed up in my room long enough. I have to get dinner going. Plus, I promised Caylan that I’d get in touch with Caleb—I keep my promises. I exit my room and head downstairs. Leah is on the couch reading Twilight again. I smile to myself thinking what an incredible girl I have. That book is well-worn on the cover, and the pages inside reveal wear from lots of love and attention, but she’ll read it to her heart’s content.

  There’s no point in asking if she wants anything because once she’s in the reading zone, there’s no getting her out of it. When she finally smells dinner later and the boys come home, then she’ll snap out of the book-spell she’s under.

  I decide to make something simple. A stir fry will do. I put fresh veggies in a pan and slice up some chicken. I usually do a stir fry on our designated family movie nights when we watch one of the Star Wars, or one of the Harry Potters.

  While I have everything cooking in the pan, I finally make the call to him. My fingers are trembling as I go through my contacts to locate his name—I didn’t put him under “favorites” yet because I didn’t want to get carried away. It rings one time, and he picks up.

  “Sweetness…,” he breathes out in the sexiest manner.

  I tighten the grip around my cell hearing his soothing voice. There’s that hint of desperation and longing hanging there in the one word he says. Immediately, I think of my conversation with Caylan and how she described Caleb’s behavior. I truly didn’t think I could do this to a man—it’s a heady thing, but not one I relish because this isn’t some game for me. I don’t think I realized until this second, hearing that one word, what he and I are coming to mean to each other in such a short time.

  My knees go weak, and I close my eyes, savoring his tone and tucking it away for later when I’ll think about him when I’m alone.

  “Hi,” is what I’m able to squeak out. I know my voice betrays me as it’s telling him I’m nervous, unsure, and also laced with guilt for keeping him on the hook—dangling there without offering him a reprieve.

  “I’ve missed talking to you. I’m so glad you called. I would’ve even settled for a text…anything. I just wanted to know you’re okay,” he rasps back.

  “I’ve missed talking to you too. I’m sorry I didn’t call or text sooner. I just…needed time,” I state.

  He sighs in an understanding way. “I know. I’m trying to be patient, but you’re killing me over here. This must be so confusing for you, and I know you’re trying to deal with everything, but can I ask one favor?” He begs.

  “What’s that?” I ask, not knowing where he’s going with this.

  “Let me help you deal with it all. Don’t shut me out. I’ll be a friend, whatever you need. Please let me help you through it?” He conveys, and I can tell he’s choosing his words carefully—almost as if he’s holding something back.

  I crumble at his words and need a minute. I swallow back tears and all the feelings swirling inside me. That poem I wrote earlier took a lot out of me. I wanted William to lie to me when he was alive, and I’ve needed to lie to myself all these years and even up until now. But I don’t want Caleb to lie! The fact that he isn’t, and probably never will, says it all.

  This beautiful man is showing his vulnerable side, and if I wanted confirmation that he would be there, well, I have it. He’s right here, and all I have to do is reach out and grab on to him. I just have to pull him off that proverbial dangling hook.

  “Okay,” is my response.

  I hear him expel the breath he probably was holding while waiting for me to answer him. I may not know exactly where we’re going from here, but I said I’d let him in. That’s more complicated than it seems, but I will have to take my chances. After all, Caleb may be the one, and I owe it to both of us to find out.

  Live, Live, Live…. My daughter planted that seed in my head—enough so that it may have taken root.

  Chapter 12: I’m Owl About You

  Caleb

  March 6, 2018

  It’s now been a week since Liz’s phone call that set my world right again. Before she reached out to me, I was in agony. One call changed everything as if the stars aligned. I don’t know what made her finally call, but whatever it was, I’m grateful. We’ve texted each day since; those texts are my lifeline in this bleak world. As long as she’s communicating with me, then I can make it through.

  Brent and Everly’s wedding is a week and a half away. There’s no time like the present than to ask Liz to be my date—it’s a now or never or do or die situation at this point. She at least invited me over for dinner this Friday night to join her and the kids…as friends, of course. That’s fine by me as long as I stand a chance to be more.

  So, yesterday I hatched a plan, and today I’m executing said plan that should go off any minute. As I’m sitting at my desk at work—piled high with client folders and documents carted in by my paralegal Melanie—I’m waiting to see if my plan goes as expected.

  I went to Budding Romance Flower & Gift Shop yesterday after work and arranged for a delivery to Liz’s office today. Alexi already knew it was coming as I clued him in last night. He made sure her lunch break would be at the time of the delivery. He said she always eats in the breakroom area for employees, so I knew she’d be there. I owe him and Caylan a great deal for putting up with my shit lately. I’ve probably been driving them nuts—I’ll have to do something extravagant for them when all is said and done.

  Thinking back to my visit to the shop, the florist had all kinds of questions from what size of bouquet, what type of flower, what type of arrangement, to the color preference of the bow, color and type of vase, and what sentiment for the card. I was so confused and scratching my head the whole time because I wanted to get everything perfect.

  After relaying the details of my hopes and dreams for Liz’s and my blossoming relationship—which was weird to tell a complete stranger, but also felt kind of nice discussing with an objective third party—she suggested a bouquet of daffodils. I went with forty-four of them for every beautiful year Liz has been on this earth and because she’s made it that much of a better place.

  The florist, Kate, as was written on her embossed nametag, was very helpful and knowledgeable. She donned one of those let me speak to the manager haircuts, but her bubbly personality didn’t match her standoffish appearance. She took the time to explain that daffodils symbolize a new beginning. Their stark, bright white petals with a yellow center are a special representation of what I’m feeling for my woman. To me, the white conveys Liz’s gracefulness and loveliness, and the yellow hues kissing the middle of the flower are that of her heart trying to capture the warmth of a true partner in life—and that partner needs to be me.

  Kate had set down a blue vase that reminded me of Liz’s eyes, I remember staring at the flowers in admiration. It looked like the rising sun in the middle of the daffodils, and I hoped they’d shine upon her and brighten her day when she received them. Kate tied orange ribbon around the vase, and all the colors somehow worked together, making the arrangement stand out wonderfully.

  I didn’t include candy or any confectionary gifts because Liz can bake goodi
es better than anything I could have bought. I did, however, enhance the delivery by including an adorable gray owl holding a pink heart suspended on a string from its beak. I had to have every detail exact. Even if she didn’t notice the little things like the number of stems, it didn’t matter because I knew they were there.

  I picked a small card with colorful little owls on the front in each corner, and in the center of the blank folding card it said, “I’m Owl About You.” I thought she’d adore it. I’m completely content with going the whimsical or corny route in all this. Sometimes you have to pull out all the stops.

  On the inside of the card, well, I had to mull over the inscription for a good ten minutes. I’m certainly no Nicholas Sparks, but I did my best. I wrote:

  Liz,

  I hope you enjoy the flowers. I know since I’ve met you, I’ve learned to stop and smell them in life.

  So, here’s to new beginnings and my hope that things will continue to blossom between us. I’m so lucky to have you in my life.

  I would like to ask for you to please accompany me to Brenneth and Everly’s wedding next week, as friends, of course—no pressure. I can’t imagine having any other woman on my arm. No one compares to you.

  I look forward to dinner Friday night. Have a lovely day, my sweetness.

  Yours,

  Caleb xoxo

  I’m quite proud of what I penned.

  I glance at my wristwatch, and the delivery should have been dropped off a few minutes ago if Kate stuck to her word of her courier being punctual. I smile, hoping I hear from Liz. I pray for a yes in answer to being my date, but I will understand if it’s a no. I’m the one who mentioned friends in my note, so I will in no way make her feel it has to be anything different.

  There’s a knock on my office door, and I acknowledge the visitor, inviting them to come in. It’s Melanie. She approaches my desk cheerfully and hands me yet another stack of files. This time it’s for the high-profile case I’ve been working on. Melanie has been amazing gathering previous court rulings in other cases that could help me with this one. Mrs. Price expects—no, rather, demands—results, and I don’t like losing.

  Because Liz and I are communicating regularly now, my focus has put my car back in the right lane; if I had continued to keep exiting the off-ramp much longer, I know my superiors would have noticed. Let’s put it this way, I almost stepped on my own dick with track shoes when I got sloppy with my duties. You like that expression? That was one of my dad’s old sayings from his uncles who lived the piney life in the woods of New Jersey. But I’m back on track!

  I thank Melanie profusely for being so efficient. That girl has saved me more times than I can count. I make a mental note to send her a gift basket as a show of thanks; more than anything she deserves a raise. She has earned every penny, all the praise, and all my respect. There have been a few of my associates who have wanted to squirrel her away, but thankfully she’s loyal to me. I may be ruthless in the bedroom and courtroom, but I think I’m a great guy to be alongside in the workroom.

  I’m still hoping for a text or call any minute from Liz as I become increasingly antsy. Melanie leaves my office, and I start drumming my fingers on my desk. God, I must have the patience of a saint. Yeah, Saint Caleb…that’s me!

  ***

  Liezel

  We have a small breakroom area that is quaint, calm and relaxing. It’s that way because Alexi let me decorate it. I opted for soft lighting that does not affect your eyes or make you sleepy; I hate fluorescent lights for that reason.

  I had the design consultant outfit the room with a couch, reading chair, and small round table with padded chairs for dining. We have all the appliances a normal kitchen would, but on a small scale. None of us cook gourmet meals in here, of course, but we have the gadgets to get by. Alexi always wants us performing our best for our patients, so I love that he treats us well.

  The walls are a light tan color, and I chose retro geometric paintings for the room. I actually don’t have any owl items in here except the small figurine on top of the microwave. On my breaks and lunch, I either read a romance or mystery novel, or catch up on one of my favorite shows on Netflix. The best part about our office is that Alexi installed a small gym in the back for employees, so I try to take advantage of that after work when I don’t have to transport the kids to and from activities.

  I just heated up the casserole I brought from home; yup, I still have food in the freezer from all the neighbors and friends. I’ll eventually work through it all sometime this year, I think sarcastically. I sit down at the table, and I’m about to take a bite when Alexi enters the room.

  “Hey, Liz. Sorry to interrupt your lunch, but you have a delivery out front at reception,” he explains.

  “Oh, no problem. Do you know what it is?” I ask, wondering what on earth it could be.

  He licks his lips and chuckles. “Let’s just say you have to see for yourself.”

  Now I’m really curious. His eyes do that sexy smolder thing, combined with a layer of mischief. If I didn’t view him as a brother, that look would totally work on me. Well, that is, if he wasn’t madly in love with his wife. Thank God neither one of us ever went there; given that I’m like twenty years older than his wife, well, I imagine I wouldn’t have been his type anyway. I often wonder if he can help himself. I mean, surely he’s aware of his appeal to women. He places his hands in his physician’s coat and grins at me with that I’ve got a secret look.

  I walk down the hall and turn to go to reception. When I round the corner, I see a delivery man in khaki pants and a green shirt embroidered with white thread that says Budding Romance Flower & Gift Shop. He’s holding a clipboard, and to his right on the counter is the biggest bouquet of flowers I’ve ever laid eyes on.

  My mouth is hanging open. These can’t possibly be for me. Then I groan, thinking, oh God, these are more condolence flowers, aren’t they? I asked everyone who knew William to please donate to The Woodward Center in lieu of flowers; it’s a local treatment facility specializing in helping alcoholics and drug addicts recover. I guess someone didn’t get the memo. But then I’m confused because William’s funeral was a few weeks ago, so this can’t be for that, can it?

  “Ma’am, can I please get your signature right here?” The delivery guy asks as he points to the designated line.

  He passes the clipboard and pen to me, and I’m still standing there with my mouth hanging open, looking at the flowers like they’re a mirage. I quickly scrawl my name on the line and pass it back. He mumbles “thanks,” and Alexi hands the young man a tip.

  What an idiot I am! I don’t even have money on me. I didn’t even know Alexi followed me out. I squeak out a “thanks” to Alexi for saving my ass. And I finally accept that the arrangement is for me.

  The blue vase is gorgeous with an ornate orange ribbon tied into an elaborate bow. The flowers are the freshest daffodils and couldn’t look any better even if they were still firmly planted in the ground. There are so many of them, at least a few dozen or so. Next to the vase is the cutest stuffed animal owl. I tuck in my lips and clamp down on them with my teeth to keep from crying.

  I know immediately who this is from. The heart on the string hanging from the beak totally gives it away, and I should have realized sooner. I said previously that I kept thinking how I was dangling Caleb on a hook—he must view it as dangling on a string.

  I reach out and grab the stuffed animal, hugging it to my chest. We’re closed for lunch to patients, so thankfully there’s no one around to witness my state of weakness and vulnerability. Alexi must have retreated to his office because I’m left standing there alone. I clutch that poor little owl for dear life. I hold the hanging heart in my hand and regard it. Streaks of happy tears are trailing down my face.

  How does this man do it? How does he surprise me at every turn? Why does he want me?

  I see the card nestled in the flowers, and before I pluck it from the card holder, I stick my face right in the arrange
ment to inhale the fabulous scent of spring. It’s still cold outside, and I expect winter will hang on a little longer. This gift sure brightens my day; heck, it brightens my whole year.

  I run my fingers across the front of the card, which contains an adorable sentiment and cute owls. His sweet and charming thoughtfulness has me laughing out loud.

  “Oh, my sexy man. I’m ‘owl about you’ too, Caleb,” I whisper to the empty room.

  I read the card, even through the tears clinging to my lashes and face, impairing my vision. God, he sure has a way with words. Of course I’ll be his date to the wedding. It doesn’t even have to be as friends, but I’m not going to tell him that. I can finally admit that I have fallen completely in love with him. Somehow he slipped right on through and nestled right in my heart.

  At the risk of ruining the moment switching from thoughts of romance to thoughts of desire, I’m going to say what my mom told me growing up: “You have to take the car for a test drive before you buy it.”

  Hopefully you get my drift. I know Caleb and I will be dynamite in bed, but there’s only one way to find out. After all, my mom was a wise woman, and she was forward-thinking when she was alive. So, I intend on following her advice. Caleb will find out at the upcoming wedding how serious I am about going for a test drive with his shifter—I can’t imagine we won’t be compatible in that department.

  Chapter 13: Something Old, Something New

  Caleb

  March 17, 2018

  I still can’t believe Liz is my date. The fact that she said yes to me is a victory. I’ve enjoyed dinner with her and the kids twice since my flower delivery. The kids seem receptive toward me, and I feel like Leah knows I’m in love with her mother. She’s an angel for not saying anything—well, at least she hasn’t outed me in front of everyone, but I’m not sure what is said when I’m not around. That young girl is quite perceptive, and I’ll do well to remember that. She looks and acts like her mother; it’s uncanny.