bite of my cake, and Caleb stretched his arm around the back of my chair. I zoned out, thinking about whether I could truly handle this kind of social life on the regular if we were really together for the long haul. Sipping my wine, I realized that I could, because being with Caleb was that wonderful. He was the perfect mix of respectful and assertive, attentive and alpha. Like Sarah said, I needed to be more genuine with Caleb. Be myself.
Because maybe I’d found my real-life dream man. I smiled at him, and he stroked my back. I rested my hand on his knee and squeezed, thinking about how he’d woken me up that morning with the most sensual kisses on my neck.
Yes, I could handle this. I took another sip of wine. Forget about that woman who’d brought up his wife. She obviously didn’t know the truth, and I did. No matter.
Just then, the man at the front of the room said he was going to give an award to the developer who had done the most for Florida in the past year. He said Caleb’s name, and I beamed.
“I had no idea,” I said proudly, kissing him on the cheek. He brushed his lips against mine and rose. I grinned as he walked to the podium. He was easily the most handsome man in the room and the most self-assured. And he was mine.
The presenter, an older man with white hair and preternaturally orange skin, talked about Caleb’s father, then about the family’s contributions to Florida architecture. It was impressive, his family’s history. I’d no idea the family was so influential. The man mentioned the Miami high-rise that Caleb was always talking about, the one that would soon be the tallest structure in that city. I caught Caleb’s eye and grinned. He winked at me.
“And I would be remiss if I didn’t mention one other project that Caleb’s company is working on,” the man said. “Hell, Caleb, you probably barely know about this because it’s small potatoes—you’re handling Miami and Brazil. But that decrepit building in downtown Orlando? The one that’s half-empty, with all those weird little stores on the first floor? the King Group is going to knock it down and turn it into a brand-spanking new building. It’s brilliant. I saw the plans the other day.”
My breath caught in the top of my chest, and I held it there, tense. I tried to swallow but couldn’t. Historic building downtown? Decrepit? Weird little stores?
Caleb tilted his head, a puzzled look on his face, and the man roared. “Gotcha! I knew it!” He clapped his hand on Caleb’s back. “I know your brother’s in charge of that one. 436 West Orange Street. The old bank building. It’s going to change the whole look of downtown when you put up that new steel-and-glass beauty. So you see, from Miami to Orlando, the King Group is remaking Florida one building at a time.”
I must have gasped out loud because the tawny-haired woman shot me a scowl.
436 West Orange. My building. My bookstore. My life.
The man at the podium said something about donating a check to Caleb’s favorite charity and people clapped. I didn’t. I couldn’t look at Caleb. Grabbing my purse, I fled, flying out the door and smack into the crowd of tourists.
----
“ S arah ? Can you come get me? I’m in Norway.” I took another mouthful of aquavit, a Norwegian liqueur that tasted like caraway, dill, and misery. I was on my second foul-tasting shot.
“What the hell? Did your rich boyfriend whisk you away to see the Northern Lights?”
I squirmed on the barstool and nearly fell off. “No. I’m at Epcot. And I’m drunk and don’t have my car. And I’m in Norway. You know—Anna? Elsa? Frozen ? Like my heart right now? You still have your annual park pass, right? Come on down and get me and we can head to Canada. Or Mexico.”
“Wow. You’re not making sense. Yeah, I’ve got my pass. Don’t move. Don’t talk to anyone. Stop fucking drinking. Be there as soon as I can.”
Caleb had already texted me at least ten times and called me five.
Because maybe I’d found my real-life dream man. I smiled at him, and he stroked my back. I rested my hand on his knee and squeezed, thinking about how he’d woken me up that morning with the most sensual kisses on my neck.
Yes, I could handle this. I took another sip of wine. Forget about that woman who’d brought up his wife. She obviously didn’t know the truth, and I did. No matter.
Just then, the man at the front of the room said he was going to give an award to the developer who had done the most for Florida in the past year. He said Caleb’s name, and I beamed.
“I had no idea,” I said proudly, kissing him on the cheek. He brushed his lips against mine and rose. I grinned as he walked to the podium. He was easily the most handsome man in the room and the most self-assured. And he was mine.
The presenter, an older man with white hair and preternaturally orange skin, talked about Caleb’s father, then about the family’s contributions to Florida architecture. It was impressive, his family’s history. I’d no idea the family was so influential. The man mentioned the Miami high-rise that Caleb was always talking about, the one that would soon be the tallest structure in that city. I caught Caleb’s eye and grinned. He winked at me.
“And I would be remiss if I didn’t mention one other project that Caleb’s company is working on,” the man said. “Hell, Caleb, you probably barely know about this because it’s small potatoes—you’re handling Miami and Brazil. But that decrepit building in downtown Orlando? The one that’s half-empty, with all those weird little stores on the first floor? the King Group is going to knock it down and turn it into a brand-spanking new building. It’s brilliant. I saw the plans the other day.”
My breath caught in the top of my chest, and I held it there, tense. I tried to swallow but couldn’t. Historic building downtown? Decrepit? Weird little stores?
Caleb tilted his head, a puzzled look on his face, and the man roared. “Gotcha! I knew it!” He clapped his hand on Caleb’s back. “I know your brother’s in charge of that one. 436 West Orange Street. The old bank building. It’s going to change the whole look of downtown when you put up that new steel-and-glass beauty. So you see, from Miami to Orlando, the King Group is remaking Florida one building at a time.”
I must have gasped out loud because the tawny-haired woman shot me a scowl.
436 West Orange. My building. My bookstore. My life.
The man at the podium said something about donating a check to Caleb’s favorite charity and people clapped. I didn’t. I couldn’t look at Caleb. Grabbing my purse, I fled, flying out the door and smack into the crowd of tourists.
----
“ S arah ? Can you come get me? I’m in Norway.” I took another mouthful of aquavit, a Norwegian liqueur that tasted like caraway, dill, and misery. I was on my second foul-tasting shot.
“What the hell? Did your rich boyfriend whisk you away to see the Northern Lights?”
I squirmed on the barstool and nearly fell off. “No. I’m at Epcot. And I’m drunk and don’t have my car. And I’m in Norway. You know—Anna? Elsa? Frozen ? Like my heart right now? You still have your annual park pass, right? Come on down and get me and we can head to Canada. Or Mexico.”
“Wow. You’re not making sense. Yeah, I’ve got my pass. Don’t move. Don’t talk to anyone. Stop fucking drinking. Be there as soon as I can.”
Caleb had already texted me at least ten times and called me five.
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