Page 194 of Always Meant for You
Chapter Thirty-Eight
MABEL
“Cal!” My breath catches, caught between disbelief and the deepest kind of hope.
I stand, my heart swelling in my chest. He’s here. In New York City. He doesn’t speak right away. He doesn’t need to. His gaze never leaves mine. And that smile—a little crooked and sweetly boyish—spreads across his face. And when it reaches his eyes, I nearly forget how to breathe.
“Dad,” I murmur, “you and Cal came together?”
My father stands, hands folded behind his back. “Yep.”
“So you must know about us. That we’re together.”
“Here’s what I know, Mabel Ruth. That boy loves you. And you love him.” He says it without hesitation.
And it’s the truth.
I glance up at my father. “And you’re not going to shoot him?”
He exhales, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Not today.”
Cal moves toward me, his stride loose and confident, like he walks through Manhattan every morning. He studies the vendors, then glances at my hand. “Nice tomato.”
“Thanks.”
“People just gift you with produce in this town?”
I can’t help but smile. “That seems to be the case.”
He looks me over, playing this big reveal quite coolly. “It goes well with your Givenchy skirt,” he says, pronouncing the French couture brand perfectly—zhee-VAHN-shee.
I watch him through my lashes, indulging in the moment. “You noticed my skirt?”
His expression softens. “I notice everything about you, Mabel. I always have and I always will.”
His grin widens. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me. And I swear, I might be floating.
“What are you doing here, Cal?” I finally ask. He looks at ease, but I know what the city does to him.
He takes a step closer. “This is where you are, right?”
I nod, barely breathing. “That’s right.”
His eyes soften. “Then it’s where I want to be.”
The air shimmers between us. My chest tightens—not with nerves, but with a happiness so full it almost splits me open.
“I missed you,” I whisper, tears returning to my eyes.
“I missed you too.” He reaches out and brushes a strand of hair away from my face. “And I’m starting to like this hat.”
He tilts the brim back, then trails his knuckles along my jaw—and in that breathless beat, I am completely and irrevocably his.
I watch him closely. “What have you and my father been up to?”
“We wanted to meet Chelsea Blaine, and I needed a word with Lucce.” The protective edge in his voice is coming out loud and clear.
I glance past him and see Chelsea and her partner standing nearby.
