Page 113 of A Temporary Forever

The ceremony unfolds, with boring speeches interrupted by dinner courses. The conversation at our table flows, mostly thanks to Xander’s efforts at meaningless chatter. His companion has a bubbly laugh, but absolutely no personality.

Cormac looks bored the entire time while his lady converses with us. And Declan, who—according to Caleb—comes to these events only with a hired escort, plays with his food and keeps checking his watch.

Caleb is his usual charming self, but tension radiates from him. I don’t think anyone else notices, but I do.

His jaw is set, and he seems distracted.

“I saw your old man earlier,” Corm says, and Caleb’s foot bounces.

It’s a slight movement, but I sit close enough to feel it. Merde, I was so wrapped up in my own world, I didn’t even realize what impact our earlier run-in might have had on Caleb.

“Corm, I hear you own a nightclub.” I pretend his question never happened. “It must be challengingrunning so many businesses.” Praising a man has never failed.

Corm’s not an idiot, though. An asshole for sure, but not an idiot, and I half expect him to throw me under the bus and continue his taunting.

“I love clubbing,” Xander’s plus one chirps.

Corm ignores her and pins me with his glare. “You know a lot about me, Celeste.”

“Only fair, given the interrogation you submitted me to earlier.” I smile at him.

“It was just a fun, friendly conversation.” He shrugs, leaning back.

“Oh, I had fun, but I wouldn’t go as far as counting you among my friends.” I lace my sarcasm with honey, beaming at him.

“Did you know Celeste and my sister are best friends?” Caleb asks, his pinkie hooking with mine on the table.

Corm’s features freeze. His jaw sets in a scowl, as he glares at me like my friendship with Saar offends him.

“Isn’t your sister the famous supermodel?” the woman who came with Corm asks.

Caleb nods, and at that moment a group of servers swarms the place, quickly removing our plates and serving us the next course.

The conversation moves to other topics.

“Are you okay?” I ask Caleb.

“Of course.” He shrugs, and his brush-off deflates me a bit. I guess I’m not a person he wants to confide in. But then he sighs and adds, “As good as someone can be when their father pretends they don’t exist.”

“Fuck him. He’s an asshole, anyway. Nothing good happens when he actually notices a person.”

Caleb whips his head to me and then laughs. “Fuck, you’re refreshing.”

“What are you talking about?” A smile tugs at my lips, his laugh contagious.

“You’re the first person who didn’t say ‘oh, Cal, I’m so sorry.’”

I feign shock. “Oh my, was that supposed to be my line? Did you want me to pity you?”

“Shut up.” He laughs, cupping my neck and pulling me in for a kiss.

It’s just a peck, but it feels like the most significant show of affection between us ever. It doesn’t come from physical need, from desire or temptation. It spawned from a completely different level of intimacy.

Keeping his hand on the back of my neck, he holds me only an inch from his face. He smells of whiskey, and something distinctly him. Heat swarms behind his eyes, but there’s something else there too.

Affection.

Care.

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