Page 196 of Always Meant for You
“And this.” She holds up her phone. “The Castle King’s post from today has gone viral.”
It’s the photo from our living room. Mom holding me, Jamie close, my dad beside her.
I read the caption.
Hello, internet folks. I’m Elias, Mabel Muldowney’s dad—and the Castle King. This is my final post. From now on, I’m sticking to farming, being a father, helping my girlfriend take care of stray cats and dogs, and teaching old people how to use computers. But before deactivating my account, I want to tell you about my daughter Mabel, who some of you know as Bella Mae. Mabel helped save the farming community of Elverna, Illinois. She loves with her whole heart, and I’m proud to be her father. Here’s a photo of her as a baby. Her mother and brother have passed on, but she’s become the kind of woman they’d be proud to know. She’s smart, caring, and not afraid to get a little dirt on her favorite pink Dior heels. I love her tremendously.
I blink past tears. Every word feels like sunlight. “Why didn’t you tell me you posted that, Dad?”
He gives me that familiar farmer shrug. “I figured you’d see it eventually.”
“People know Mabel Muldowney is Bella Mae,” Chelsea says, “and they like who you really are.Voguewants an interview and a photo shoot. There’s global demand for what you’re doing in farming and fashion. You’re about to rack up serious frequent flyer miles.”
Oh no.
Cal’s pulled it together for a trip to New York, but I don’t know what the mention of more travel will do to him.
I glance at him, bracing for hesitation. For retreat. But he doesn’t flinch. Still, I don’t want to push him beyond his limits.
I chew my lip. “Chelsea, this sounds incredible, but I don’t think?—”
“Mr. Horner!” Lucce scurries through the crowd, waving a large FedEx envelope. “It’s here. It arrived!” Flushed and breathless, he thrusts it at Cal.
Without missing a beat, Cal gently takes the tomato from my hand and passes it to Lucce. “Keep an eye on this. Don’t drop it.”
“Yes, sir.”
Cal nods to Chelsea, then to my dad. His fingers slide into mine. “Mabel and I are going to take a walk.”
Chelsea smiles. “Everything will be waiting when you’re back.”
I turn to Cal. “Back from where?”
He doesn’t respond at first. He takes my hand and leads me through the market, navigating the stalls with quiet ease, as if he’s known these streets all his life. He doesn’t appear overwhelmed by Chelsea’s offer. Still, I need him to know I see the whole picture—what he’s capable of, what still gives him pause.
“Cal, if this is too much, we can say no.” My voice catches, but I steady it. “I don’t want to agree to anything that pushes you too far. I love the city, but I love you more.”
We stop, and he holds my gaze. “Here’s the truth. Cities still make me nervous. But I’m doing the work. I studied a map of New York City. I read up on the neighborhoods and their history. Did you know there used to be farmland where Rockefeller Center stands now? Orchards, too. Before all the glass and steel, people here grew things. That stuck with me. And the more I learn, the more that fear shifts into curiosity.”
“I didn’t know that,” I whisper, my breath catching. A quiet pressure swells in my chest, that fierce, aching fullness that comes from loving a man brave enough to rewrite his story.
“You make me want to grow, Mabel. To understand, to explore, to stretch my horizons. I don’t want fear to be the thing that decides my future. I want to see the world with you.”
We start walking again.
“And did you study a map of this farmers’ market?” I ask, teasing gently.
“With your dad,” he says, smiling. “We’ve got ideas for making a few tweaks to ours back home.”
“You like something happening at a city’s farmers’ market?”
“Yeah, I do,” he says, giving my hand a squeeze.
We reach the edge of a stall’s canvas awning, where sunlight cuts across his shoulders and lights the curve of his jaw. He stops and turns toward me, eyes full of clarity and devotion.
I search his face. There’s no hesitation. Only the calm strength I’ve come to trust. “What happened between the last time I saw you and now?” I ask, needing to understand.
He exhales a quiet laugh. “A cup of coffee, a Capricorn horoscope, and a long heart-to-heart with Betty Young and your dad.”
