Page 135 of A Temporary Forever

I roll on to my back, taking her with me. “I’d need to talk to Reese about that.”

“When was the last time you tried that?”

“Only back then, when Mia showed up. Her texts were short and aloof. Mia doesn’t know the details of why I didn’t know about her, and I’m grateful Reese protected her from that story, but she still doesn’t trust me.”

“Maybe you should try again. She must know from Mia that the two of you formed a relationship that is growing deeper. She might see it all differently.”

She’s right, but I’ve just forged a fragile bond with Mia, and if I’m honest, I’m scared Reese won’t allow more, or worse, she’d curb the time we have now. “Frankly, sometimes it feels Mia is coming behind Reese’s back.”

Celeste jerks her head, her eyes widening. “Caleb, if that’s true, you might lose her if Reese finds out. She’s still young, and shouldn’t traipse around the city like this. Where does Reese think she is?”

“I’m not sure. I’m not even sure if it’s true. I tried to ask Mia a few questions to probe about the chances of meeting her mom, but she became all uncomfortable and I dropped it.”

“Merde.” She strokes my cheek, her eyes soft. “I’m sorry this has been so hard.”

“It’s gotten significantly easiersince you became part of the picture. We’d be still sulking at each other if it wasn’t for you. Thank you.”

She fidgets and slides down from me, pulling me with her, so we now lie on our sides facing each other. “Sometimes I worry I’ve been interfering too much. That you need some time alone with her.”

“Don’t worry, black swan, despite everything, there is no competition, I’ll still buy you that airplane.” I don’t want any more serious, life-changing conversations today.

She rolls her eyes, but she understands my need to move back to the lazy and inconsequential. “You better.”

I pull her closer. “Shit is happening too fast, catching me unprepared, but I have you to keep me level.”

“And on your toes.” She claims my lips. But when we come up for air, she dives back into another loaded topic.

“When was the first time you saw me?”

The question tightens my muscles. Out of all the topics she could have chosen, this one I’m sure will taint our current harmony. But we might as well clear the air.

I asked her the same question at her apartment before we got married, and she ignored it. I thought it was because she didn’t remember, or just wanted topiss me off with her ignorance. But now she asked the question of me, so she must remember.

I remember very well.

“May ninth, ten years ago.”

Her eyes widen and she sits up so quickly I almost roll off the bed. “You remember the date?”

I shrug instead of the answer, because this little detail is the least of my worries. The question is why she gave me a wrong number then. The only woman who has ever done that.

“It’s not even your birthday and you remember…” She shakes her head.

“Why is the date important?” I sit up. Why are we even delving into something in the past that has no bearing on now?

“Because you remember it, and if it’s not your birthday, or something else significant, why would you—”

“Because meeting you isn’t something one forgets,” I growl, suddenly annoyed.

At her for disturbing the easy flow from earlier. At myself for still remembering. At the memory that should have faded a long time ago. At my hurt ego that still resents her for giving me a made-up phone number.

She gapes at me for seconds that feel like several lifetimes. “Why didn’t you call me then?”

I frown, afraid to ask my next question. Could it have all been a misunderstanding? “Why did you give me a wrong number?”

She opens her mouth and closes it. Again. And again, before she croaks, “I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did. I saved it, and had it for ten years, and unless you changed it, it’s definitely not the number you’re using now. I had to reprogram it when we got married.”

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