Page 45 of Caleb

“But will theywantto accept him?” she pressed, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. “Or will they see him as... an inconvenience? Someone who doesn’t fit into their plans?”

“They’ll come around,” he said, his voice quieter now. “And if they don’t, that’s their problem, not his. I’ll make sure they treat him with the respect he deserves.”

Taylor studied him, her brow furrowing. “And what about you? Do you think he fits into their plans?”

Caleb hesitated, the weight of her question pressing down on him. “I don’t care about what they believe or think,” he said, his voice steady. “Liam is my son, and nothing—no one—is more important than that.”

The conviction in his tone eased some of the tension in Taylor, but the uncertainty still lingered at the edges of her thoughts. “I hope you’re right,” she said softly, “for his sake.”

In college, it had always been whispered that Caleb was wealthy, though he’d never flaunted it. The rumors had painted him as part of some old-money dynasty, but Taylor hadn’t paid much attention back then. All she’d known was that he came from a ranching family, and from the little he’d shared, it was one of the largest in the state.

Beyond that, Caleb had kept quiet about his family, and Taylor had never pressed. Back then, it hadn’t mattered. She’d cared more about how he made her laugh and how he’d looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered. The specifics of his family’s wealth and status had felt like details for another day—one that, as it turned out, had never come.

She studied him, her heart pulling in two directions. Part of her wanted to let him in, to trust this version of Caleb, who seemed so earnest, so willing to step up. But the other part, the one still scarred from years of hurt, whispered caution.

“What you’re doing seems more than fair,” she said finally, setting the paper down. “But we need to take it slow. Liam doesn’t even know you’re his father yet. I don’t know how to tell him.”

Caleb’s shoulders sagged slightly, and he nodded. “I know. I don’t want to rush anything. I want to be there for him.”

Taylor pressed her lips together, her gaze dropping to the table. “It’s going to take time, Caleb. For him and me.”

“I get that,” he said quickly, his voice steady. “I do. And I’m willing to put in the time.”

His sincerity felt real, but she still had doubts. She picked up her glass again and took another sip of wine as she tried to sort through the emotions swirling inside her.

After a moment of silence, Caleb cleared his throat. “Can I ask you something?”

Taylor looked up, her brow furrowing slightly. “Of course.”

“Would you have ever told me?” His voice was soft, almost tentative. “About Liam. I mean, I know why you didn’t... but I keep wondering if there was a moment when you thought about it. When you almost did.”

Her grip on the glass tightened, her stomach twisting. “Of course, I thought about it all nine months,” she said, her voice quieter than she’d intended. “So many times I wanted to pick up the phone, Caleb. But you were gone. And when I did reach out, you made it clear there was nothing left between us. You didn’t give me any reason to believe you’d want to know.”

He winced, his jaw tightening as he leaned back in his chair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” he said quietly.

“I know,” Taylor replied, her tone sharper than she intended. “But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

Silence fell between them, heavy and charged. Caleb’s gaze dropped to the table, his fingers tracing the edge of his water glass.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about that a lot,” he said finally, his voice low. “About how much I hurt you. About why I walked away in the first place.”

Taylor frowned, leaning forward slightly. “Whydidyou walk away, Caleb? I never understood.”

He hesitated, his gaze shifting to the flickering candle between them. For a moment, she thought he might tell her, might finally share the truth behind the decision that had shattered them. But then he shook his head, a faint, bitter smile tugging at his lips.

“Not something I’m ready to talk about,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not yet. Besides, it will ruin the night.”

Disappointment flickered through her. But she didn’t press. If there was one thing she’d learned over the past few weeks, Caleb needed time just as much as she did.

“Okay,” she said softly.

He looked up at her, his expression a mixture of gratitude and guilt. “Thanks.”

Another silence fell, but this one felt less heavy, less fraught. Taylor studied him across the table, his emerald eyes darkening with tension. He looked older, more weathered than the boy she’d fallen for in college. But there was something else, too—something softer, more vulnerable.

“Do you ever think about your parents’ marriage?” Caleb asked suddenly, breaking the quiet.

Taylor blinked, startled by the shift in conversation. “Sometimes,” she admitted cautiously. “Why?”

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