Page 95 of Caleb
“We will always be okay.” I smile. “No matter what.” I grab her shoulders and guide her inside the elevator.
“Then why do I still feel this—weird vibe between us?” She clicks on her floor’s button.
Because I love you! But I love you too much to make this harder for you. Plus, I’ve signed a contract that ties me up to these feelings and forces me to swallow them back, so there’s that.
Taking a deep breath, I sigh, defeated. “You look at him the way you looked at me when we lived in Paris.” I pause and give it a few seconds to allow my words to sink in. “Times ten,” I toss in. “That’s all.”
She gapes at me. “Caleb, what are you talking about?” She’s trying to lock her gaze with mine, and there’s only so long before I can resist and give in. And I do. I stare into her eyes and deal with it. “Why do you keep bringing William up? And why does he bother you that much and not Nathan? I’m with Nathan.”
“Yes, you’re with Nathan. And I know you love him, but the way you—look at William ...”
The doors open on the ninth floor, and we step out but stand near the elevator instead of walking toward her door.
“And when I met you—” I laugh the saddest laugh in the world. “Shit ... you liked me right away, didn’t you?” Her eyes widen, and it’s tough for me because it only means I’m right. That once upon a time, I was probably who she dreamed of or fantasized about. I’ve always been able to see right through her. I can read her like a book. She parts her lips to speak or attempts to do so, but I lift my hand and say, “Don’t answer that.”
“Caleb—”
“It’s all good, I swear. I’m just trying to make a point.”
“Which is?”
“You have feelings for William. Strong ones.” I cross my arms loosely at my chest and stare down at her. I’ll just wait for her to deny it. “And I don’t think it’s unilateral.”
She shakes her head like she’s wondering why this is happening to her. Like it’s unfair for me to call things by their name. And I don’t want to mess with her head, but it is what it is. And it pains me that she keeps pretending like she can’t see it when I know deep down she knows.
“I—I—don’t.”
She’s in denial—the deep kind.
“This is why I always had an issue with William, and I figured out quickly after we decided to give us a shot that it would never work out,” I say.That and the fact that it was legally impossible. “But you didn’t want to see it. You still don’t. Your mind was elsewhere, and again, it was written all over your face. It still is.
“I saw the pain in your eyes when William’s ex stepped on the rooftop that day. When you realized he was back with her, and you saw William holding her hand—refusing to acknowledge you. And I—I kissed you with everything I had, wishing I could’ve taken that pain away from you, but I knew I couldn’t. You pulled away from me because of him.
“And I’m sure of this because I know your face better than I do my own. I’ve been studying it for years. The slight shifts between your eyebrows, that imperceptible twitch in your mouth, how you widen your eyes for a second, how you inhale, exhale, and how depending on the speed and breadth of it means one thing then another ... I see it all. I could make a language with your face.
“And I didn’t want to accept it then either. I didn’t want to be the one to tell you, but I see how torn you are right now. It’s as if I can almost feel it for you. And I’m learning to live with it because I can’t”—I laugh under my breath —“won’t stay away from you. So I’d just rather make you see it in the hopes of helping you gain some clarity.”
She gets it. I think. Or at least she’s looking at me like what I just said makes perfect sense, so I’m holding on to that.
“Besides, I made a promise, didn’t I?” I continue. “I can’t leave until you kick me to the curb.” I laugh. Softly. Because what else is there to do but laugh at this point? “But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt to see the truth sometimes. Just as I know you wouldn’t be jumping up and down with excitement if the roles were reversed somehow.”
Oh, man. I’m probably shaking her up too hard with this, but it’s all the truth. And I’ve learned to appreciate the truths I’m able to share with her because there are so many I wish I could say, but I can’t. Ever.
“I’m sorry, Red. I’m always trying my best, and I’m good. I swear. You’re my best friend, and that’s enough for me because that means I can have you forever.”
Her face resembles that of a person who just saw a puppy. And it makes me want to rub my face because I don’t want to be “cute,” but whatever. I guess.
“Of course,” she says, her eyes still wide. “You are my best friend, Caleb.” It’s like she just realized that obvious fact. After all these years, it just hit her.
She’s the cute one.
“Come here.” I open my arms and motion her to come forward.
She hugs me, and I lift her from the floor.
“Happy birthday,” she whispers in my ear. “I want you to be happy ... always.”
“I’m the happiest.” And I am. Just being able to hold her like this on my birthday and knowing I’ll get to be here for her, always, it’s all I’ll ever need to be happy.
