Page 128 of A Temporary Forever

“We could have just walked,” I mumble, even though my legs and feet are sore from rehearsal.

“I’m sure it can’t take much longer.” Caleb squeezes my hand. He hits the intercom. “Peter, any news?”

“According to the radio, the accident includedseveral cars and pedestrians. We’re stuck in a sea of traffic with nowhere to divert.”

“Keep us posted.” He releases the button. “We heard the helicopters an hour ago, I’m sure it’s going to clear soon.”

My stomach rumbles. “I haven’t eaten since this morning.”

“Wait here.” Caleb opens the door and disappears for almost fifteen minutes.

What the hell? This delay feels anticlimactic after our conversation at the theater. By the time we get home, I’ll want to stay in my room just from the sheer need to rest, my hangover still lingering.

The door swings open and he slides back in and places a box in my lap.

“Croissants?” I smile at him, and almost moan at the tantalizing steam coming from the box. Picking up one soft pastry, I groan. “They’re fresh.” I take a bite and actually moan around the flaky batter.

“Jesus, woman, stop those sounds before I have no option but to feed you my cock.”

His voice is light and playful, but an undeniable need laces his tone.

“Let me eat in peace. We should have gotten something for Peter.”

“I got him a sandwich.”

“What about you?”

“I’m hoping you’ll share.”

I clutch the box closer to me. “Never.” I slide farther from him, grinning. There’s no way I can eat all five of them, but I can tease him.

“You’ll let me starve?”

I pretend to think about it, but Caleb slides closer and pinches my chin, kissing me roughly and daring me with his hooded gaze.

“I guess I could share. I mean, you got me my favorite pastry.”

“I know.”

He snatches one and leans back. I cock my head in question.

“There were never croissants in my house before, so I concluded you love them. Is it sentimental?”

I don’t know how to answer that. Frankly, I accepted the craving a long time ago without giving it much thought. “It’s the weirdest thing, because I don’t think I liked them that much in France, but I guess they became the stereotypical connection to the country that is no longer my home.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Do you miss your parents?” I’m aware I’m stalling, but this conversation is a difficult one, even though it’s time I shared and explained.

Caleb leans into the leather backrest, but he stays very close. Eyes trained on the dark partition in front ofus, he sighs. “Since I learned about Mia, I hate my father.”

His father ensured Caleb had no contact with his daughter or her mother. What if it was different? Would he be happily married to Reese?

A pang of unreasonable jealousy swarms through me. I don’t say anything, because I can keep repeating the same mollifying words to him, but it won’t help him. He needs to let go of that toxic relationship on his own.

Instead, I decide to bare a part of me that might show him we have more in common than we ever imagined.

“Me too.”

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