Page 43 of Holiday Star
“I talked to the foreman today. He says it’s coming along. They’ll have some bedrooms upstairs done by the end of the week. You can finally move off the couch and into a real bed.”
My bed.The image of him in the master bedroom, with me, and the things we could do there is so vivid it’s disorienting. A wave of heat rises from low in my stomach and travels to my core. My breath hitches.
Caleb is observing me closely, brows knitted with concern. “Are you okay?”
My voice comes out strangled. “Fine. Totally fine.”
Just picturing you naked. I do it a lot. No big deal.
Turning away so he can’t see, I bring my hand up and fan my face, trying to cool the heat in my cheeks.
“Food’s ready,” he announces a few minutes later, placing a sizzling steak, salad, rolls, and loaded baked potatoes on the table. Bending, he puts a small plate with cut-up pieces of steak on the floor for Pip, who runs over eagerly. Caleb gives her an affectionate pat on the head and then we sit down together.
“You must really like music to have so many songs on your phone?” I ask, curious.
A bashful shrug. “I’ve moved a lot. Set to set. Location to location. More than any other thing or person, music has been my one constant. I take it with me no matter where I go. I find it soothing. Even heavy metal can be a lullaby, given the right circumstances.”
Caleb’s voice drops like he’s telling me a secret. “There’s music playing all the time in my head. It’s like I have my own 24/7 soundtrack going on. I thought for years that everyone was like that. Just assumed it. It wasn’t until I was an adult that I realized not everyone hears a song while they brush their teeth or walk down the sidewalk.”
The steak is cooked perfectly with a slight char on the outside and a tender pink center. My fork pierces it easily. As I bring it to my lips, I ask, “What’s your toothbrushing song?”
His laugh has a rumble to it, the sound the ocean makes as it tumbles over the shore at low tide. “It changes constantly, but recently it’s been Uptown Funk. It used to be Every Breath You Take.”
I pick up my spoon and mock sing into it. “Every breath you take will be so minty from the toothpaste.”
He’s laughing harder now. “That wasterrible. Don’t quit your day job.”
“What?” I place my hand over my chest in feigned disbelief. “You don’t think I should give up this doctor gig to run off and join a band?”
Caleb pretends to think for a minute, scrunching up his face and tapping his chin with his finger. “I’d say definitely no.” He leans back in his chair and gives me an assessing stare. “Stay being a doctor. It suits you.”
There’s admiration in the way he says it, as if I’ve done something big and worthwhile. It causes a little fizz of pride to bubble up in my chest.
“We’ve established that I enjoy music,” he says. “How about you? What do you like to do when you’re not busy doctoring?”
“Doctoring?” I giggle at the word. “I used to have hobbies—reading and painting—but honestly, medicine has taken over my life. Even the hours when I’m not at the hospital I spend studying or working on research. I get this guilty feeling if I do anything else. Like I’m letting the patients down.”
My brain scrambles, trying to find something interesting about myself. I don’t want Caleb to see how boring and predictable I am. Finally, a nonmedical activity occurs to me. “I do like horror movies.”
He gives me a look like he can’t tell if I’m joking or not. “Horror movies?”
I nod. “I watch them at night when I can’t fall asleep.”
“That’s…unexpected. What do you like about them?”
I trace a circle in the condensation of my water glass, my forehead creasing as I figure out the best way to answer. “I like the thrill they give me. It makes me feel alive, to have my heart pound. To experience that zing of fear. It’s hard to explain, but in the ER I see a lot of horrible things. Car accidents, assaults, overdoses. After a day of real-life horror, it’s nice to escape into fake horror. Makes the real stuff seem more manageable by comparison, I guess.”
God, he’s going to think I’m a psycho.
I peer at him through my lashes, trying to gauge his response, and am surprised to find that he’s looking at me like I’ve said something interesting. I ask him, “Have you ever acted in a horror movie?”
Caleb’s attention narrows in on me. “How many of my movies have you seen, exactly?”
I hesitate before I answer, not wanting to hurt his feelings. “Maybe one where you were a detective?” I add, “Sorry, I don’t watch a lot of movies. It’s not because I don’t enjoy them. I just never have time. Even the horror ones I hardly ever finish. Usually, I fall asleep halfway through.”
“Don’t apologize. It’s oddly charming, how you haven’t seen me like that.” He looks pleased, a small smile playing at his lips.
Done with dinner and dessert, we gather the plates and silverware and carry them to the sink. “You cooked, so I’ll wash up,” I tell him, moving aside a red poinsettia that sits on the counter.
