Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
We continue the tour and visit a game room next, one featuring a pool table, foosball table, several pinball machines, and, surprise, surprise, an astonishing array of bongs, ashtrays, and booze bottles.
“Shit,” Caleb says, when he beholds the vestiges of his past life all around us. “I mean, shoot. Sorry, Shortcake.”
“Shit,” Raine echoes.
“Shoot,” Caleb corrects. “Shoot, shoot, shoot.”
“Shit.”
“Just leave it, and she’ll forget.”
With a sigh, Caleb moves to the next room—a space filled with comfy sitting areas and a big-screen TV; and not surprisingly, another round of ashtrays, bongs, and papers used to roll joints.
Caleb slides Raine off his back, looking distraught. “I should have had someone check the whole house before we got here,” he murmurs. “Sorry. I didn’t think to do that.”
“It’s fine,” I say. “After we have some lunch, you can take Raine to the beach while I clear out the house.”
Caleb looks stressed. “Thanks, Aubrey. I appreciate that.”
I lay a palm on his forearm and smile reassuringly. “I think it’s good you’re seeing the house with sober eyes. If this place had already been cleaned out when we got here, maybe the new you wouldn’t have realized just how much the old you probably needed mandatory rehab.”
Caleb contemplates that. “Yeah, I think you’re right. I probably needed it, without realizing it.” He looks beautifully vulnerable in this moment. So much so, I’d kiss him right now, if Raine weren’t here.
Off we go again, this time into a long hallway. As we walk, Caleb motions to a passing guestroom. “That’ll be your room, A-Bomb.” He winks. “As far as the social worker will know, anyway.”
We enter a room at the end of the long hallway. Caleb’s bedroom. The primary suite, featuring the same spectacular ocean views as the living room. Not surprisingly, given the rest of the house, Caleb’s bedroom is a beautiful space. One that’s fit for a king and decorated by a pro. There’s an attached bathroom that’s bigger than my parents’ living room. A walk-in closet that’s bigger than my childhood bedroom. A fireplace, sitting room, and more framed memorabilia. And best of all, there’s a small shelf in a corner filled with framed family photos.
I study Caleb’s collection of family photos, as father and daughter chatter about the ocean view in another corner of the room. Suddenly, I notice a framed photo that makes me gasp and clutch my heart. Somehow, Caleb managed to add a photo of Raine to his collection—a smiling shot of her sitting on the shore of Lake Lucille with her beloved sand toys strewn around her. I didn’t take the shot. In fact, I’ve never seen it before. Which means Caleb must have snapped it and asked someone here in LA to frame it for him.
“What is it?” Caleb asks, reacting to my audible gasp.
“This photo of Raine.”
Caleb and Raine join me at the photo collection.
“Dat me!” Raine says, pointing.
“It sure is,” Caleb says. “And you know why? Because this shelf is for photos of everyone I love most in the whole world. That’s why you’re there, front and center. Because I love you so, so much.”
“Who dat?”
“That’s two of my best friends, Colin and Amy, and their little boy, Rocco. He’s the same age as you. You’re gonna meet him soon.”
“Who dat?”
“That’s my grandma and grandpa. And that’s Auntie Miranda there. And my mother.”
Raine looks up at her daddy. “Where my mommy and Aubbey and Grammy and Pop-Pop?”
Caleb’s face bursts into shades of crimson. All of a sudden, he looks tongue-tied and nauseated. “That’s a great question, Rainey. They should be here, because they’re our family, too. You’re absolutely right about that.” He flashes me an apologetic look while talking to Raine. “For now, we’ll put their photos in your room, though, so you can start a family photos shelf of your own. Would you like that?”
“Yass!” While Raine squeals and dances around excitedly about the idea, Caleb looks at me, sweating bullets. Clearly, he thought the addition of Raine to his shelf would be a praiseworthy surprise. But now, it’s turned into a fuckup.
“That photo of her is really sweet,” I whisper. “Don’t stress, Caleb. She’s your daughter,. She belongs there.”
He smashes his lips together, looking pained. And you know what? I feel pained, too. Logically, I know I shouldn’t. I don’t belong on that shelf, and neither do Claudia or my parents. But I can’t deny my heart feels excluded in this moment. If I needed a reminder that I’ve been getting swept away by my feelings for Caleb, this is probably it. Clearly, I need to cool my jets and keep my heart guarded, just in case the custody hearing doesn’t go, as planned.
Caleb clears his throat. “I figured with the social worker coming on Thursday—"
“Yeah, that makes sense,” I insist. “It was the right call. We don’t want the social worker digging too deep into what’s been going on between you and me.” I force a smile. “Is there a bedroom for Raine?”