But more importantly, Caleb named people colors that he associated with them. It wasn’t just me. It wasn’t our thing. My heart fell into my stomach.
“I’m so sorry, Veronica. I didn’t mean to…” Beatrice-Rose laid her hand softly on my arm, a sign of comfort, as if we’d been friends for a long time. Maybe she just liked to touch people. But I didn’t like being touched by strangers. It wasn’t my thing. I stepped away.
“It’s just that…I haven’t seen Caleb in months,” she said. “I’ve been away, in Paris. And he’s family. I don’t…really have much family.”
I heard the genuine sadness in her voice. I felt bad. I shouldn’t have judged her so quickly. She and Caleb must be really close, and she must have missed him a lot.
But there was something there… I knew it wasn’t just sisterly affection she felt for him. She liked Caleb as more than a friend. I could see it in the way her eyes lingered on his face, the way her hands stayed on his body. I knew, as only a girl would, that she had feelings for Caleb.
“You ladies want to hang out on the balcony or in the living room?” Caleb asked, but he was only looking at me. I didn’t answer.
“Living room is fine,” Beatrice-Rose answered, walking ahead of us. “Dinner will be here in ten. I ordered our usual.” She grinned, kissing her palm and blowing it in Caleb’s direction.
“Perfect.”
Our usual.
Just how many times had she stayed over here to have a usual? And how close were they? Were they…together before? Oh God, what if they were? This was so awkward. And if they were, why hadn’t Caleb told me? I hated these thoughts. This was why I didn’t want to get close to a guy.
Jealousy.
Such an ugly feeling. I hated it. I hated Caleb for making me feel it.
He pulled me on the couch beside him as he chatted with Beatrice-Rose. I asked them if they wanted drinks, and they both refused. She talked about her trip to Paris, how she had to go back this summer because her best friend was getting married there.
Paris. Someday, I promised myself, I’d go there too. I would love to go around the world.
With Caleb, my subconscious whispered. Again, I ignored it.
She went down memory lane with him, asking if he remembered that time when they went camping and he had to carry her back to camp because she’d sprained her ankle. Or those times he gave her peanut butter sandwiches. With no jelly. Her voice just held a hint of disgust. I loved peanut butter sandwiches. And yes, with no jelly. Those were my favorite. But I didn’t tell her that.
What was I doing here? They didn’t need me here to keep them entertained; it looked like they were having a lot of fun talking by themselves. I should leave. Suddenly, I felt Caleb reach for my hand, squeezing it gently. My eyes flicked up at him, but he was still talking and laughing with her. He squeezed my hand again.
A feeling of warmth settled in my chest. I smiled. Somehow he knew when I needed comfort. I was still anxious, but his hand in mine served as a Band-Aid to all of it. He was my Band-Aid. I noticed that Beatrice-Rose looked at our joined hands, then quickly pulled her gaze away.
When the intercom buzzed, Caleb got up. “Finally. I’m starving!”
Beatrice-Rose chuckled, shaking her head so her hair swayed with the movement. “You’re always starving.”
“Yes, I am.” He leaned forward and gave me a quick kiss on the mouth. “Starving for Red.”
Chapter Twenty-nine
Veronica
“Starving for Red,” he whispered beside my ear, then stepped away to answer the door.
I turned red. I knew he said it loud enough for Beatrice-Rose to hear. My face grew hot and I felt giddy, like something was tickling my stomach.
“He’s like a kid, isn’t he?” Beatrice-Rose motioned with her chin to where Caleb was chatting with the delivery guy. Caleb was saying something that made the guy guffaw.
She toyed with the pendant on a chain around her neck. “God. I missed him so much,” she whispered so quietly that I almost didn’t hear it. But I did.
Her eyes widened, as if she couldn’t believe she’d just said those words. “I’m so silly.” She let out an embarrassed laugh. “I’m so sorry, Veronica. I was thinking out loud.” She lowered her eyes, and I could see two pink spots on her cheeks.
It hurt to look at her. She was like a double punch to my already sore bruise. She was beautiful and rich, and had a history with Caleb. And she was obviously in love with him. Was Caleb in love with her too?
“He was my first, you know. You never forget your first. I was his too.” I noticed the death grip she had on the pendant around her neck, her knuckles white.
What did she mean? First love? I felt nauseated.
And why the hell was she telling me this? Did she really think that I wanted to hear this?
“Please don’t take it the wrong way,” she said. “I don’t know why I even told you that.”
If her intention was to make me jealous, to show I could never have the connection she had with Caleb, then she was winning. If she’d been mean about it, I would have lashed out already. But she wasn’t. She just sounded…sad.
Either way, I wasn’t going to play along.
“I think…” Beatrice-Rose paused as if she was trying to find the right words. “Today was just a shock for me, seeing him with you. I’ve never seen him this way with anyone else.”
I really didn’t want to hear any more.
“I’m sorry, Veronica. Please don’t be upset with me,” she murmured softly.
I blinked, searching her face for deceit. It was hard to tell. She looked and sounded vulnerable and sincere. How was I supposed to respond to that?
“Have you met Miranda?” she continued, smiling radiantly.
“No.” I didn’t ask who Miranda was, didn’t really want to talk anymore.
She touched the back of my hand again. I gritted my teeth, trying to stop myself from pulling away from her touch.
“Food’s ready in the kitchen.” Caleb called. “Ready when you are, ladies.”
I let out a relieved sigh and headed straight to the kitchen with Beatrice-Rose following behind me. Caleb had laid out the food on the counter where he liked to eat. I glanced at it, my stomach in knots.
This was rich-people food. Caviar, truffles, goat cheese on crackers with some kind of fruit on top. Then I spotted a cheesy lasagna, which made me feel slightly better. Real food.
I opened a cupboard, grabbed three plates, and set them on the counter. Caleb handed me two forks, which I placed on top of the napkins beside our plates. He opened the fridge, and I knew he was going to grab his orange juice so I got two glasses. By the time I turned around, he was in front of me, waiting for me to hold his glass steady as he poured his beloved orange juice in it. This was our routine. We could do this with our eyes closed.
“Want some too?” he asked Beatrice-Rose.
She was watching us with an expression I couldn’t decipher. “No, thank you. I’ll have wine if you have some.”
“Of course. Hold on, gotta get Red’s drink first.” He opened a can of coconut water and filled my glass. This was routine too.
I could either sit beside Beatrice-Rose or across from her. I chose the seat across from her.
“Here you go.” Caleb handed her a quarter-full glass of red wine, then sat beside her. She was looking at him like he was Superman and Batman rolled into one.
I placed my fork in my mouth because I wanted to bite something. Preferably Caleb’s hand so he’d stop smiling at her.
“Could I get a fork too?” she asked, looking down at her plate.
Great. I hoped she didn’t think I deliberately didn’t get her one. Caleb was so used to our routine that he had grabbed two forks, forgetting there were three of us tonight. It was mean and petty, but it made me slightly happy. I
stood up quickly to get her a fork.
“I was just asking Veronica if she had met your mom yet,” Beatrice-Rose said.
I stopped in my tracks.
What the hell?
“She hasn’t.” He looked at me. “As soon as Mom gets back from her business trip, I’ll take you to meet her, Red.”
What?
In a daze, I placed Beatrice-Rose’s fork on her plate. I cried out when I realized that instead of the clean fork I got for her, I’d stupidly given her the fork that had been in my mouth.
“Omigod. I’m so sorry!”
Caleb laughed. He was such an ass sometimes.
In a rush to fix my mistake, I reached for Beatrice-Rose’s plate and accidentally knocked her hand just as she lifted her glass of red wine. The glass hit the floor and shattered.
“Oh no!” She abruptly knelt on the floor, hurriedly picking up the broken pieces of glass with her bare hands.
Caleb stopped laughing. “The hell are you doing, B? Stop.”
Her hands were starting to bleed, but she didn’t stop.
“Beatrice-Rose.” Caleb’s voice turned hard. She stopped and looked up at him. My mouth opened in shock as I saw tears running down her cheeks.
Silently, Caleb helped her up and led her to the sink, gently shaking her hands. I heard the pieces of glass as they fell in the sink.
“Let’s go to the bathroom,” Caleb said softly. “I’ll clean you up.”
She nodded imperceptibly, looking like a broken doll. Caleb wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
“Red, could you grab the first aid kit, please? I think it’s in the—”
“It’s okay. I know where it is. Just clean her up.”
He gave me a grateful smile.
What the hell is going on?
Was she crying because she cut her hand? But the way Caleb spoke to her told me it was something else.
Not my problem, I thought. I got the first aid kit from the laundry storage room and headed to the bathroom. I froze in my tracks as I heard Beatrice-Rose’s soft voice.
“I’m sorry I broke down in there. She must think I’m insane. Your Red.”
“No, she’s not like that.”
“What is she like?”
It was a moment before Caleb responded. “Everything.”
Silence.
“Don’t move,” he continued. “I still have to remove some glass from your skin. What were you thinking?”
“My dad’s dementia is worsening, Cal. I don’t even want to go home anymore. My mom takes it out on me. It’s hard. I don’t want to watch my dad… It hurts to see him like that.” She sobbed.
“Shh. It will be okay.”
“I need you. Don’t leave me. You’re the only one who understands me, Caleb.”
I felt awful for her. Dementia was a debilitating illness I wouldn’t wish on anyone. But…was I rotten to wish she would leave? Did Caleb have to be the one she turned to for comfort?
It wasn’t like Caleb was mine.
But he was.
He was mine.
Oh God. When did I start thinking he was mine? Caleb was sneaky, slithering unnoticed under my skin, where he’d set up camp and claimed a part of me.
Like a virus, I thought darkly. Caleb was a virus. And he’d better not be thinking of doing anything other than comforting Beatrice-Rose or else…
I cleared my throat to alert them of my presence.
“Red?” Caleb asked.
Yellow. I couldn’t get over it yet.
“Hey. Here’s the first aid.” I handed the kit to him and turned to Beatrice-Rose. “How are you?” She sat on the toilet seat with Caleb kneeling in front of her. He was holding her hands.
I clenched mine. I’d never seen him hold anyone else’s hands except mine. I knew he had to clean her cuts but still. It was unreasonable, but I wanted to pull him away from her.
“I’m better. I’m sorry you had to see that. I’m not usually like that around strangers.”
I nodded. I really didn’t want to see them so close together. “I’ll just clean up in the kitchen.”
Sweeping the floor was a mindless task that gave me room to be alone with my thoughts. I didn’t like it, but I swept the floor twice. Caleb liked to walk barefoot in the apartment, and I didn’t want him to step on broken glass.
“Red?”
I turned around and found Caleb standing beside Beatrice-Rose, his arm wrapped around her shoulders again. She leaned against him, her head lowered so I couldn’t see her eyes.
“I’m just going to drive Beatrice-Rose home. I don’t think she’s in the right condition to drive herself. I’ll be back soon, okay?”
No, it’s not okay.
I ignored him, looking at Beatrice-Rose instead. Whatever game she was playing, I still felt bad about her cuts and what was happening with her dad so I said, “I hope you feel better.”
She looked up and gave me a strained smile.
Caleb stepped toward me. He was removing his arm from Beatrice-Rose’s shoulders when she squeezed his arm, stopping him. He looked at her with exasperation and then sighed.
“Let’s go,” she pleaded quietly. “Please, Cal.”
Before they left, Caleb looked back at me, clearly hesitant.
“I’ll be home before you know it.”
But he wasn’t.
He didn’t come home that night.
Chapter Thirty
Caleb
I should have kissed her goodbye before I left.
This was not good. This was not how I’d imagined my night would go. Damn.
I just wanted to spend the night with Red. Alone. Watch one of those scary movies on “our” list. Order pizza. Kiss her, touch her if she’d let me again. I couldn’t get enough of her.
I wondered if she was one of those girls who covered their eyes and squealed while watching horror movies. Or did she stay silent, staring at the screen unblinkingly. Whatever her reaction was, I wouldn’t be finding out tonight.
I glanced at Beatrice-Rose, who stared out the passenger window silently, a small smile on her lips. “Are you feeling better?”
She smiled at me. “Yes, Cal. You’re here now. I’m feeling much better, thank you.”
I frowned. Something in her words didn’t sit well with me. Maybe when she said, You’re here now.
“I miss you,” she murmured.
I felt uncomfortable. I wasn’t sure if I should tell her to stop talking to me that way. If some other guy was talking to Red like this, I would go ballistic.
“I miss my best friend,” she clarified.
I wasn’t even aware how hard I was gripping the wheel until I relaxed my hands. Yeah, she thought of me as her best friend—though I wasn’t sure how well she understood the new dynamic in our relationship. She had always been possessive of me.
Girls came and went in my life, but Beatrice-Rose was a constant. She had learned to depend on that. In a way, that was my fault. I had let her depend on me. It became a habit for her. And for me.
But it was different now. I had not anticipated Red coming into my life. She’d blindsided me, and now all I wanted was her.
I could say that Beatrice-Rose was the first girl who fascinated me. As kids, we were forced to spend time together in the playroom. Sleeping Beauty was her favorite movie. I thought it was because she was blond and because of the similarities in their names—Briar Rose to her Beatrice-Rose.
I could not count how many times I had watched that damn movie with her. I’d bet my left nut I could still recite the lines, even in my sleep. Not that I would tell anybody, obviously.
It didn’t escape my young mind’s notice that Sleeping Beauty was vulnerable, fragile. The type of girl who could draw out the protective instinct with just the way she looked, the way sh
e spoke. Like a meek lamb, a little kitten. And after you had slain her dragon, she would gaze at you and make you feel like a hero.
In a lot of ways, Beatrice-Rose reminded me of Sleeping Beauty. She always came to me for protection, for safety, which made me feel like a hero. It made me feel strong. It might have been caveman thinking, but sometimes it’s really good to feel like a hero.
Beatrice-Rose was very, very good for my ego.
Reflecting on it, I realized those were the types of girls I always went for. Girls who needed saving, who needed protection, who made me feel needed. This desire to feel needed might have come from my childhood when no one needed or wanted me, but that didn’t really matter in the end, did it? Because now I felt ashamed, embarrassed, stripped. It seemed so shallow to date those girls just because they fed my ego.
Maybe that was how Red had captured my attention. She was different from all the girls I knew. She seemed fearless and strong, then seemed so helpless, so vulnerable when I found her at the parking lot. I’d wanted to save her. But she’d proved me wrong.
Because in the end, she was the one who saved me.
Red made me bare my soul, made me aware of what was lacking in my life and what I wanted to be. She made me want to do more, be more. Be a better person.
Yellow—that damn nickname. When I saw Red’s face after Beatrice-Rose told her that, my first thought was shit. She might think that calling her Red wasn’t anything special. When she was the most special person in my life.
It was an old habit, naming people after colors that reminded me of them. What Red didn’t know was that I’d stopped doing that when I turned eight. She’d just brought it out of me that night when I met her.
That night.
She’d danced on that floor like she owned it, with her killer red dress, red lips, and sheer presence. I had to stop and stare. It felt like a siren’s call. I was unable to look away for fear I would miss something important. That I would lose a chance I could never get back again.
It wasn’t just lust. It was a pull I couldn’t explain.
And when she approached me, kicked my ass, and rejected me…I knew. She was red. My Red. She was fire, passion, strength…
Chasing Red Series, Book 1 Page 24