Page 103 of Holiday Star
“That’s the goal.” He glides his nose down along mine, ending in a steamy kiss.
On the 103rd floor, the elevator stops. The double doors slide open to reveal the most incredible view. The entire skyline of Manhattan is spread out before us. Its lights twinkle through the night like stars.
The far wall of the restaurant is pure glass, three stories high, leading out to a long balcony. This is where Caleb leads me, placing his hand on the small of my back and gently propelling me over plush carpet.
As we walk through the restaurant, I look around, confused.
“Caleb,” I whisper. “Why isn’t anyone else here? It’s empty.”
He whispers back, “Because I rented out the whole place. I wanted to be alone with my girlfriend.”
Girlfriend. I like how that word falls from his lips.
His voice is low and silky as he confesses, “I don’t want any distractions. I’m going to keep you all to myself.” A wolfish grin, showing all of his teeth. His eyes slide up my body in a way that makes my legs wobble.
How can I resist Caleb Lawson when he’s looking at me like that?
No one could. It’s impossible.
He opens a glass door and motions me out onto the balcony. We stop before a single table set for two. It’s laid out beautifully, with fine white porcelain plates and filigreed silverware. A centerpiece of simple pink rosebuds packed tightly together rests in a low vase.
Caleb holds my chair so I can sit. The glowing warmth of a nearby outdoor heater takes away the evening chill. After we are both seated, a server in a white tuxedo approaches our table with an enormous bottle of champagne.
Uh-oh. Alcohol served to someone freshly out of rehab seems like a terrible idea. I start to wave the man off, but Caleb takes it from him and calmly fills my glass. He leaves his glass glaringly empty. I try not to stare, but he catches me looking.
“No alcohol for me. You know…since rehab.” His jaw tightens around that word.
“We haven’t really talked about that yet,” I say tentatively, unsure how to begin this conversation.
Caleb sighs heavily, his gaze slipping past me to focus on the sparkling city lights. “I’ve been avoiding it,” he admits. “Didn’t want you to think of me as weak.”
It’s more than sadness in his expression. It’s shame, self-loathing, fear.
“Getting help if you need it is never weakness, Caleb. That’s strength.”
He fidgets, rearranging the silverware by his plate.
“Can you tell me about it?” I prompt gently.
His voice is so muted that I have to concentrate on each word. “I was a walking disaster. After the car crash and then losing you. I couldn’t cope. It got bad…really bad. I went to a dark place, and I wasn’t able to drag myself out. No matter how hard I tried.” His hand darts up to run through his hair.
That picture flashes through my mind. Caleb at the bar bent over like he’s broken in half, pouring his soul into that glass. How the image had shattered me.
“I’m an alcoholic. I realize that now. I’ll always be one, even if I never have a drink again for the rest of my life.” His eyes are on me, begging for forgiveness, but braced for rejection.
He turns his body away, hunches his shoulders, and mumbles sadly, “I understand if it’s too much. If you don’t want to deal with someone so messed up.”
His dejection, that air of a lost boy, skewers me.
I scoot my chair closer and capture his hand in mine, tracing small circles over the back of his hand with my thumb. “I’m not scared of you, Caleb. Once before, I told you that revealing the imperfect parts of yourself won’t ever make me upset. I like understanding you,allof you.”
I take a minute to consider my next words. It’s no easy thing to love someone with addiction. It takes a lifetime of patience and an iron will, to protect both them and yourself. Am I up to that challenge? I look deep inside myself, searching for the answer.
Once I’m sure I’ve found it, I continue, “I see alcoholics every day in the hospital. The ones in acute withdrawal, with their hallucinations and seizures. The ones with chronic liver failure, whose bodies have given up completely. I know how hard they struggle.”
“You’re going to have to fight this. It’s a battle I can’t do for you. I can sit next to you and cheer you on, but, ultimately, it’s up to you. And if you can’t…can’t control it.” I stop, choking back tears, unable to envision that future. The one where I lose this precious man to his demons. “I won’t sit by and watch you destroy yourself. I can’t do that to you or to me. Understand?” I’m lecturing him, but it’s something I need to do. He has to understand my boundaries.
It’s hard for him to meet my eyes, but he does. “I understand, and I swear I’m trying to change.” He looks up like he’s searching for words written in the sky. “I joined Alcoholics Anonymous. They gave me a sponsor, and I’m working through the steps.” He confirms what I’ve already suspected. It’s a relief that he’s ready to let me into this part of his life. Finally, he’s letting me seeallof him, the good and the bad.
