Page 39 of Dial L for Lawyer
Audrey fans herself with a cocktail napkin. "I need a cold shower just hearing about it."
"And then what?" Layla prompts, practically vibrating.
"And... Oh god, I'm going to have to admit something so this makes sense." I take another mouthful of wine. "So, at the gala, we got pretty drunk and..." I put my face in my hands, not wanting to look at them. "I basically threw myself at him like a drunk koala. Full begging. Zero dignity. I may have used the word 'please' multiple times."
Two pairs of eyes go comically wide.
Layla recovers first, her voice high. "You begged Caleb Kingsley to kiss you and he said no?"
"He said I deserved to be kissed when I'd remember every second, not stumble through it drunk on champagne and bad decisions." The memory still stings. "Then he tucked me into the limo and gave the driver a hefty tip to see me home."
Audrey's jaw drops. "That's the most infuriatingly noble thing I've ever heard."
"I was mortified," I continue. "I spent the whole ride home wishing the ground would swallow me up. But by the time I was crawling into bed, I got a text from him asking if we could try again. He called it 'A do-over, but with you conscious and able to veto at any point.'"
Layla is beaming. "And that's when that massive text-a-thon you two had started?"
"Yeah. He kept coming up with more creative ways to ask me out, and I kept saying no. Until I eventually said yes, and well, you know the rest..."
"Your self-sabotage could single-handedly fund psychology research for decades," Audrey says, finishing her wine. "It's genuinely impressive."
Layla's watching me carefully. "Be honest. Did you want him to kiss you today?"
The answer tumbles out. "Yes. And no. Which is the problem. It's always both with Caleb." I look at them helplessly. "He's too much. He looks at me like he's already figured out every secretI have. But then he'll say something that makes me feel like I matter. Not just as a conquest or challenge, but as a person."
Audrey grins. "Sounds terrifying. You must be really into him."
I groan and take another gulp of wine. "That's the problem. I am. I'm so into him it's physically uncomfortable. But every time I get close to giving in, my brain starts screaming about all the ways it could go wrong."
"Like what?" Layla asks gently.
"Like... what if I'm just another challenge to him? What if he gets bored once he's gotten what he wants?" The words tumble out faster now, fueled by wine and desperation to make them understand. "Or what if I disappoint him? What if he sees me—really sees, like all of me—and realizes I'm a big fat faker and not worth all this effort?"
"OK, stop." Audrey holds up a hand. "The man waited six months for you. Six months, Serena. That's not conquest behavior. That's 'I'm completely obsessed' behavior."
"She's right," Layla adds. "Bennett's told me Caleb doesn't wait for anyone. Women throw themselves at him constantly, and he either takes what's offered or doesn't. He doesn't chase."
"Until you," Audrey points out.
"And today," Layla continues, "when he could have kissed you—when you clearly wanted him to—he didn't. Because he wants you to be sure. How is that not romantic?"
I stare into my wine glass. "Because it means he knows I'm a mess. He can see right through me, and instead of running, he's being... patient."
"Or," Audrey says pointedly, "you're someone worth waiting for."
Something breaks loose in my chest, and my eyes burn with sudden tears.
"What happens when heseesme?" I whisper, gesturing to my body, my hidden insecurity and the biggest reason I have for running. The body I spend hours camouflaging with shapewear and structured blazers. The curves I try to control, to hide. He sees this polished version of me, the one I assemble every morning with strategic layers and a swipe of red lipstick. But what happens when the lights are on and the shapewear comes off? What happens when he finds out the confident marketing executive is just…soft and flabby and scared and so much more than he bargained for in every way? The thought of his hands on me, discovering my greatest embarrassment, is terrifying. He’ll see that I’m a fraud, and he’ll leave. And my mother will be right—no man worth anything could possibly want a woman like me.
Layla’s hand covers mine, her grip firm. “Oh, honey, no.” Her voice is thick with emotion. “Don’t you dare think like that. That’s your mother’s voice in your head. Not yours. I can’t for a single moment believe that Caleb is the kind of man who’ll be scared off over a little extra skin. Or cellulite.”
“Or the fact that I strategically deploy shapewear like a military general mapping out a campaign.” I try to land a joke, but no one’s laughing.
“Serena, listen to me,” Audrey says, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. “That man looks at you like you’re the only woman who’s ever existed. He’s grade-A obsessed. He’s seen you at your most polished. He’s seen you drunk and begging. He’s seen you stressed and panicked. And guess what? He’s still pursuing you. Do you really think a few stretch marks and an apron belly are going to be the deal-breaker?”
“It’s worse than that and you know it.” A sob escapes me, raw and ugly. It’s the truth I’ve been hiding from them, from myself, now laid bare on a table sticky with spilled wine.
“So what?” Layla said. “He wants you. All of you. And if he doesn’t. Well…at least you'll know you tried instead of wondering what if for the rest of your life."
