My father switched tactics at the last minute; pivoting his body toward me, he angled himself away from Caleb, making me the sole receptacle of his attention.
Nice.
“What do you say, Leah? You’ve been such an asset since you arrived. We need you to finish this project.”
As much as I wanted to say no, I couldn’t. Blame it on the alcohol, or my nagging addiction to please the only man who didn’t want me, but I couldn’t walk away when he was asking me to come back. I had a need to prove that he was wrong about me. That I wasn’t the child of a worthless slut, but a valuable asset to his family.
I nodded, feeling weak for bending. He was using me for something. I couldn’t figure out what yet. My goddamn soul hurt. Caleb was watching me. I smiled at him, my eyes no doubt betraying my uneasiness. He could see all the way down my throat, right to the place where my heart beat. Thank God he was classy enough not to mention it.
On the way home, Caleb asked me if I really wanted to go back.
“You said you were done.”
I looked fretfully out my window, counting the car lights that passed us.
“I know.”
“So why are you going back? You don’t owe him anything, Leah.”
“Just let me do this without psychoanalyzing my motives.”
He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “All right. Just promise me one thing.”
I looked at him. Caleb didn’t really ask for promises.
“If he pulls a stunt like he did at the wedding, you walk away and you don’t look back.”
“Okay,” I said.
I glanced down to my lap where Mattia’s present sat, wrapped in pearly white paper with embellished bells on it. Sliding my fingernail under the tape, I pulled the wrapping away to reveal a sugar and creamer set. It was cheap — the kind you get at Marshalls, with glass bodies and silver handles — but it was from Mattia and I loved it.
Mattia had been the only one in my house to give me hugs. I counted on her hugs. I was just about to turn down the radio when Caleb turned it up.
Coldplay, he listened to them as if they were whispering truths to him. I never understood his fascination. They were always trying to dress up big concepts with piano vamps. I drummed my fingers on the armrest as I waited for the song to be over. Like anyone could fix anyone else. If that were true, Caleb wouldn’t like Debbie Downer music, he’d listen to happy crap that represented our relationship. When I met him, he was drowning in his emotion for some woman who had broken his heart. I spent years trying to pull him out of it, only to get a sort of floating contentment that came and went depending on the day. We’d go weeks at a time being happy with each other, and then suddenly, the wind would change direction, and Caleb would turn into the brooding, dark person I’d first encountered at the yacht party.
Right now … at this moment … on this day — he was happy. I looked at his face as he sang the lyrics to the song and linked our fingers. He said I could trust him.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Present
As I drive home from my meeting with Olivia, I intermittently sob and swear. The whole world is swimming in and out of focus as I weigh the chances of losing my husband. Olivia’s words mingle with my thoughts until I almost crash into a garbage truck. As soon as I walk through the front door, I beeline outside to where Sam has Estella on a blanket. I pick her up and hold her against my chest. She wiggles and lets out a wail of protest. Sam takes her from me, and she stops crying. I take her back from Sam.
“Take the day off,” I say, studying her scrunched up face. “It’s about time she learns to f**king like me.”
Sam raises his eyebrows. I’m about to tell him that I don’t like the look on his face, when he turns and walks away.
I can see him through the French doors. He grabs his keys from the kitchen counter and strides off without a backward glance. I look back at Estella.
“Maybe we can try this again. If we can figure out how to like each other, your daddy might stay.”
She flails her fists and blinks at me. She really is kind of cute.
I stretch my legs out and lay her on my thighs. I talk to her for the next thirty minutes about life until she starts screaming at me. Then we go into the house for dinner. After I’ve put her to bed, I put on my sexiest piece of lingerie and wait. Forty minutes later, I hear his key in the lock.
When I rush into the foyer, Caleb is closing the front door behind him. I freeze, and when he looks up, I’m not sure who looks more flustered.
“I’m just here to pick up some of my things.”
He won’t look at me. I take a few steps toward him. I want to touch him, tell him I’m sorry.
“Caleb, talk to me … please.”
He fixes his eyes on me, and I see none of the warmth that used to be there. I flinch back. Has everything between us disappeared?
“I’ll be back for her tomorrow. There are just a few things I need to pick up,” he repeats.
I place a hand on his chest and he freezes.
He grabs my wrist. “Don’t.” This time he looks me in the eyes. “You use sex like it’s a weapon. I’m not interested.”
“It’s okay when Olivia uses it, just not me?” The words are out before I can stop them.
“What are you talking about?”
I think about my conversation with Sam. If I want to know about his relationship with Olivia, now is probably the time to ask, since he’s already mad at me.
“Why didn’t you ever sleep with her?”
Caleb reacts instantaneously, grabbing me by the shoulders and moving me out of his way. He heads for the stairs. I follow behind him.
“Come on, Caleb. You let her use sex — or lack thereof — as a weapon. Why?”
He glares at me. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Maybe. But that’s because you never talk about her. And, I want to know exactly what happened between the two of you.”
“She left me,” he says. “End of story.”
“What about the second time?” I challenge. “During your amnesia?”
“She left me again.”
His admission cuts me, deeply.
“Why didn’t you ever talk to me about what she did? When she came back and lied to you?”
“Why didn’t you ever ask?” He counters.
“I didn’t want to know…”