Stay With Me (20 page)

Caleb rolls his eyes, then we make our way to the end of the hallway. His room is on the right, the den is on the left, and the bathroom is at the far end.

“My parents’ room is on the main floor,” he says. “And they won’t check on us.”

“I don’t want to mess anything up or make them think badly of me.”

He nods. “Separate rooms. But I’ll be across the way if you need me.”

“Well, I’ll let you know if I do. But I definitely want to freshen up before dinner.”

“Okay,” he says. “If you need anything, just let me know. Daphne also uses this bathroom, and she can be messy.”

“I heard that!” Daphne yells from inside her room.

“Stop eavesdropping,” Caleb yells back.

“Stop talking so loud, and I won’t overhear you.”

I laugh. “It all sounds good. I’m just going to switch my clothes. Won’t be more than a few.”

“I’ll show you around later. One thing,” Caleb says. “You’re still holding onto the flowers.”

I glance down at them. “Oh crap! I forgot to give them when I came in. Your dad must think I’m an idiot.”

“Nah.” Caleb caresses the side of my face. “You can give them later. You’re nervous.”

“Well, that’s because I like you. And I want your parents to like me.”

“I like you, too. A lot.”

“You know . . .” I place the flowers down on the dresser drawer, then fiddle with the buttons on my shirt. I lower my voice so there’s absolutely no chance of us being overheard. “There is
one
way to get rid of nerves.”

Caleb leans against the doorjamb. “Oh, what’s that?”

“This.”

I reach up, touching my mouth to his, and kiss him. It starts off small—short kisses like a brief pause you take at the end of a sentence. But then the kiss changes, deeper, hotter, an exclamation mark of declaration.

My mouth feels swollen, kiss-stung, when we break apart, and my breathing is much shallower.

“Nerves gone?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I say, my voice shaky but for a whole different reason. “But now I have a whole new problem.”

“I can . . .”

“No. I mean, yeah, I want
that
. I always want that with you. But not here. Not right now.” I lean up, brushing my lips against his earlobe. “Besides . . . waiting can be a really good thing.”

Caleb groans. “You’re going to kill me.”

“D
O I LOOK OKAY?” I
ask Caleb, standing outside the upstairs den. He still has his dark jeans on but has changed from a black tee-shirt to a long-sleeved army green cotton shirt that shows off his firm, toned body.

“You look beautiful,” he says.

I smooth my hands over my shirt. I’m also wearing jeans, but changed into a cap-sleeved black lacy shirt, and pulled my hair half-off my face. For Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow, I’ll dress up a little more and wear a black dress I have in my bag. It doesn’t usually wrinkle, but if it needs to be ironed, I’ll ask to use theirs later on tonight or in the morning.

“I just have to get the flowers before we go downstairs.” I stop in his room and grab the bouquet. A quick check at Daphne’s door, slightly ajar, tells me she’s already left. “And you’re sure your parents aren’t mad I’m here? That it’s not an inconvenience?”

“Hailey.” Caleb touches the inside of my wrist, his thumb grazing over my pulse. “You’re not an inconvenience. Ever.”

“I’m sorry,” I say and swallow past the lump in my throat. “I feel like I’m always asking you to reassure me about . . . things. It’s . . . I’m not like this.”

“I like you just how you are.”

Warmth floods my body. “Oh.”

Caleb brushes his mouth over mine. “And I don’t mind telling you that.”

We head downstairs and to the kitchen. The table has been set for dinner, and Daphne is setting drinks out on the table. Their father is draining the spaghetti, while Rhea and Percy sit at the counter, talking excitedly with an auburn-haired girl who has doe-like brown eyes.

“Mom’s getting dessert on her way home,” Daphne says, putting the last glass of iced water down. “So we’re just waiting for her.”

Rhea and Percy stop talking to the girl, both of them elbowing her.

“See! I told you!” Rhea hisses.

Caleb ignores them and points to the auburn-haired girl. “Hailey, this is Phoebe.”

“Hi,” Phoebe says shyly. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Hi,” I say. “Your dad said you were reading earlier. Are you reading anything good?”

Phoebe’s eyes light with interest. “I’m reading this historical mystery series that Daphne loves.”

“Which one?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“The Amelia Peabody series, written by Elizabeth Peters. I love them,” she says.

“I’ll have to check those out,” I say, meaning it.

Rhea leans forward. “Who are those flowers for?”

“Oh!” I turn toward their father. “Mr. Fox . . .”

“Mark,” their father says again, smiling at me. “I told you to call me Mark.”

“Mark. These are for you and . . .”

“Kelly,” a woman says, entering the room, carrying two white, square-sized boxes. She still has her coat on, and her dark brownish-red hair reaches straight to her shoulders. Her smile widens when she sees me, her brown eyes warm and inviting. “And you must be Hailey.”

“Here, Kel,” their father says. “Let me help you with your coat.”

Their mother shoos him away and sets the box down on the counter. “I got two pies from A Pie in the Sky.”

“Ohhh!” Phoebe gets up and carries the box to the fridge. “I love that place.”

“Hailey, you like pie, right?” Mrs. Fox asks, shrugging off her coat. Rhea gets up, takes her mother’s coat, and goes to the hallway to hang it up. “And you’re okay with pasta and meatballs?”

“Both sound great to me.”

“Good, good.” Mrs. Fox walks to me, and I hand her the flowers.

“These are for you, Mrs. Fox.”

Her eyes twinkle. “Kelly. And thank you. What pretty colors. I love them. Now, the girls haven’t been bothering you too much, have they?”

“Mom, we’ve been totally cool,” Rhea says from the hallway.

“Totally,” Percy agrees.

Mrs. Fox makes a disbelieving sound and arches an eyebrow at me. “Have they?”

“Totally,” I say.

The girls grin at me.

“Dinner’s ready,” their father announces. “You can fill your plates here, and then we’ll sit down and—”

“I’m sitting next to Hailey,” Percy yells.

“Me too!” Rhea says.

“Girls, maybe she wants to sit next to your brother,” their mother says.

“Please,” Rhea drags the word out slowly. “Why would she want to do that? We’re much cooler.”

“Much,” Percy agrees.

“It’s okay. I’d like to sit next to them.” I put some spaghetti on my plate and take two small meatballs. The garlic bread is on the table, along with the grated cheese.

Rhea and Percy grin, then lead me to the table.

“Sit here,” Rhea instructs, pointing to the middle seat on the side of the table closest to the bay window. I do so, then the two young girls flank either side of me.

Caleb sits across from me and passes me the garlic bread after he takes a slice. Phoebe and Daphne sit on either side of Caleb, and the parents take the ends of the table.

Everyone starts eating, and Mrs. Fox talks about her day. She’s an engineer, and her company is researching more ways to go green. Mr. Fox mentions that he’s a freelance editor, and also a graphic designer.

I wipe my hands on a napkin. “How did you guys meet?”

“College,” Their mother says. “I tutored him when he was doing horribly in a science class.”

“And how did you meet Caleb?” Rhea asks.

“At a party.”

Rhea starts talking about school, friends, and makes everyone laugh with her impressions. Percy joins in, and they get Phoebe to talk a little more about herself. His family is just so much fun. Loving. Warm.

Caleb’s father makes me laugh, and his mother puts me at ease. Dinner goes into dessert, and Mrs. Fox brings out two pies—one a chocolate cream pie and the other a blueberry crumble. I can’t decide which I want, so Caleb cuts me a small slice of each and then scoops vanilla ice cream onto my plate.

“I can’t eat all of this,” I say.

Caleb cuts a slice of chocolate cream for himself. “Eat what you can.”

“Caleb.” I take a forkful of blueberry crumble and get some ice cream on there, too. “You are a really bad influence on me.”

“I know.”

Somehow I manage to eat both desserts and ice cream.

And later that night, right before I’m about to fall asleep, Caleb softly knocks on the door. When I answer it, he kisses me good-night.

I
WAKE UP EARLY, GRAY
morning light slitting through the blinds. I yawn and get up. I didn’t get a chance to see what shape my dress was in last night, so I head to my bag and take it out. It’s a stretchy black dress that hits my thighs, and it’s not too bad. I shake it out and lay it flat on the bed. My stockings are rolled up in a ball, and I’ll wear the tall black boots that I had on yesterday. Dressy, but still trendy and a little funky.

I decide to venture downstairs but put a bra on under my shirt and quickly brush my teeth before doing so. Caleb is already awake and in the kitchen, peeling potatoes alongside his dad. His mother is putting a turkey into the oven.

“Morning,” Caleb says, noticing me. “You want something to eat?”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“Did you sleep well, Hailey?” Mrs. Fox asks.

“Yes, thanks.” I sit on a stool. “Do you need any help?”

“No, you relax. We’re almost done anyway.”

Caleb drops a peeled potato in a pot, then makes me a cup of tea, exactly how I like it. “Here.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.”

I take a sip. “Mrs. Fox, could I borrow your iron? My dress is a little wrinkled.”

“Why don’t you go up and get it right now?” Mrs. Fox cleans her hands in the sink. “I’ve got to iron some things anyway. I’ll just add yours to the pile.”

“Oh, I don’t want to trouble you.”

“It’s no trouble.” She looks over at her husband. “Actually . . . you know what I do need. Doughnuts.”

“Doughnuts?” Mr. Fox says, brow furrowing.

“Yes. For breakfast.”

“Oh. Yes. Breakfast.” Mr. Fox clears his throat. “Why don’t you two get dressed and make a run to the bakery?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Fox says. “And you can just take your time. Maybe show her where you went to school.”

Caleb stares at them. “You guys just want us out of here.”

“Yes,” she says easily. “Now, get dressed and out of here. You’ll want to escape before Rhea and Percy wake up. And, Hailey, bring down your dress before you leave.”

I get up. “You sure?”

“Positive.”

Fifteen minutes later, Caleb and I are in his car with doughnuts in the backseat. We passed his high school on the way to the bakery, and now we’re headed to the waterfront of Lake Champlain.

There are a few other cars in the parking lot by the lake, and we pull in a far corner. Caleb reaches in the backseat and lifts up a bag. Besides the dozen doughnuts, we got stuff for ourselves. A chocolate croissant for me, and a chocolate-glazed doughnut for him.

He points to a bench a little ways away, looking out at the water. “Let’s head over there.”

I nod, and we get out of the car, walking along the pathway. The wind is brisk, and I’m glad I wrapped a scarf around my neck and have a sweater on. Caleb carries the bag and two hot chocolates, and just as we near the bench, an elderly couple sits down. I shrug at him, and we keep walking. He passes me a hot chocolate and my croissant, and I nibble at it.

“I really like your family,” I say. “Your parents are so nice.”

“They are.” Caleb smiles over at me. “When they’re not annoying. Sorry about Rhea and Percy.”

“Don’t be. They’re great.” I take another bite, the buttery, flaky crust melting in my mouth. It’s so nomalicious. “Is Phoebe the quiet one?”

“At first. She’s shy. But when she feels comfortable around you, she’ll start talking. She’s a know it all,” he says affectionately.

“I’m an only child. There were some days I really wanted a younger sister or brother. Someone I could play with, but now I’m really glad I don’t have one. I’m sure my mother would have put them in the business, too.”

“Really?” Caleb drinks the rest of his hot chocolate, then dumps it into a nearby trash can. “What’s the deal with your mother anyway?”

I kick a stone on the pathway, sending it skittering into the shallow waters of the lake. “She’s from Kentucky, and she got pregnant when she was pretty young. My father—” I pause, swallowing. “I don’t know who he is. All I know is that he didn’t want me or my mother, and left her. A few months later, after she had me, we moved out to LA and she got me an agent. By the time I was a year old, I was the new Gerber baby. Part of me thinks she wanted me to be famous so my father couldn’t forget what he left.

“But . . . it’s ironic. No matter how famous I’ve become, my father has never once tried to contact me. Or my mother.” I stop walking as we near a gazebo. “He never wanted me.”

“His loss.”

“And hers,” I say. “My mother stopped seeing me. I just became a living paycheck to her. Someone who could give her what she wanted most. The fame. The notoriety. The easy lifestyle. I don’t have to worry about money for the rest of my life, and I know that’s a privilege I have. I don’t want to seem like the poor, little rich girl who hasn’t been loved.”

“You don’t come across like that at all.” Caleb leads me away from the gazebo, and we follow the curve of the path. “I can’t imagine how much pressure you were under. How alone you felt.”

How unwanted I was.

“Others have it much worse than I do. All my mother cared about was how much I made and that I was still famous. Certain aspects of my life were very controlled, and others weren’t so much. She . . . encouraged things that maybe most mothers wouldn’t.”

“Like?”

“Like dating another famous actor or rock star to stay in the public eye.” I swallow and glance away. I’m still not ready to say anything more. I don’t want to see Caleb look at me with disgust in his eyes, to turn away, to
not
want me anymore. “Like . . . like, just everything.”