Page 19 of A Temporary Forever

“Where did you get it?” These were auctioned by surprise at a charity gala. Was she there? I don’t remember seeing her that night.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t steal it.” She scoffs.

Our conversation is as delightful as ever. “I didn’t mean that. It’s just I see you also have a Philip Turner original.” I refer to a painting on the other wall. “They probably cost more than this apartment.”

“So? Art is a great investment.” She turns around, grabs another purse, and shakes it.

“So is the real estate. Wouldn’t you rather buy a bigger place?”

“Why don’t you mind your own business,” she retorts. “Enfin.” She pulls her passport from the last purse.

She stands up and straightens her robe. Handing me the passport, she hesitates for a moment and pulls it back, clutching it to her chest. “Why are you doing this?”

I scratch the back of my neck. Fuck if I know. “I can’t say no to Saar.”

With wariness etched on her face and her brow furrowed, she tilts her head. “That seems a heavy burden,” she says with sarcasm.

“Have you met my sister?”

“Hey, you can insult me, but not my best friend.”

I chuckle. Celeste isn’t just hot, she’s loyal. The concept disturbs me, because the last thing I need is to notice positive traits about her.

“Look, I hate what my father did to you and many other people, so I guess I’m trying to fix some of it.”

“Yes, but this is not on your conscience. I should have been on top of my visa.”

I clutch my chest and pretend to stumble, findingpurchase with my other arm against the door. “A rare moment of self-awareness.”

“Fuck you, Caleb. I don’t have time for this. I’m due for my last performance” —her voices hitches as she looks at the small golden watch on her wrist—“in half an hour. I’m just wondering, what do you have to gain from this?”

Now it’s my turn to stare in silence, because that question is valid. And the answer isnothing.

But that’s what it looked like when I started helping others who my father wronged. At the end of the day, the opposite has been true.

I started fixing his mistakes because I was deeply ashamed of what he did—the lies, the cheating, the abuse of power—but to be honest, it was a selfish mission. I wanted to feel better about where I came from. And I gained way more.

For some reason I redirect the focus, because the pathetic hurt boy in me wants to know why she doesn’t like me. Why she didn’t like me when we first met.

“When was the first time you saw me, Celeste?”

She flinches. It’s almost imperceptible, and she composes herself quickly. I can’t say if she flinched at the sudden change of topic or because she does remember our first brief meeting, and all this time she’s been pretendingit never happened.

“I’m not a charity case,” she snaps, ignoring my question again.

Guilty as charged, then. She must remember me.

“And yet… you’re desperate for my help.” Scoring points like a pro here. Christ. But if she can pretend we didn’t meet ten years ago…

She winces. “Not desperate enough.”

Stubborn woman. I want to help, but I won’t force it on anyone. “Okay.” I toss her passport to her bed and leave without looking back.

Chapter 7

Celeste

The door closes in slow motion, and in my mind, I can see Caleb walking through the building, probably worried his tailored shoes will catch fungus. Which legitimately might happen, but that’s beside the point.

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