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“This is beyond Dan’s control,” I say. “He has issues. He’s come a long way since you two first started dating.”

I don’t know why I’m sitting here defending him, probably because I know my bestie loves him, and I don’t want to be the person who gets between them. Plus, someone else's problems are the perfect distraction for my own messed up life.

To say Daniel has issues with Samuel and my close relationship is an understatement. When Dan met Samuel, he’d gone through a messy divorce. Leaving him with multiple scars. Initially, he tried to smother him, not allowing him out, wanting to vet every friendship. Kudos to my bestie. He drew a line in the sand. But our friendship is still a bone of contention.

Samuel runs a hand down his face. When his phone rings again, he picks it up and leaves the table.

“Second door on the right,” Cal says to him, pointing to a corridor that goes under the stairs to another part of the apartment.

This place is enormous. The explorer in me wants to seek out where each door leads. Be nosy, see what I can find out about this enigma of a man. As Samuel disappears, I turn towards Cal, only to find him watching me. The expression in his eyes is unreadable, but something in that look sets off butterflies low in my stomach and a flood of memories taking me back to that night.

CHAPTER 26

CALEB

Her eyes darken. Maybe my little firecracker isn’t as immune to me as she likes to pretend. It’s not surprising, just the memory of our night together in New York leaves me as hard as a rock, often at the most inopportune times.

“Why? Why are you doing this?” she asks, her back straightening.

“Doing what?” I ask innocently, taking a sip of my wine.

“You know very well what.”

When I shrug, she sits back, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t get it. You’re free, Cal. Your company is free. No ties, no more responsibility. Everything I own went up in smoke. You can walk away.”

Her voice catches on the last part, and I’m forced to school my features. This is not a time for sparring. This is her life. She drops her gaze for a split second but forces it back to mine. “No alternative dance studio. No dance studio, period. You can return to Sunny Down’s original design.”

I sit back and steeple my fingers, staring at her.

“Is that what you think?”

I’m not sure if I should take offence. I asked her to trust me, but trust is a strange thing. Something I’ve learned over the years. I’ve not done anything to cause her to distrust me, or at least I don’t think I have, but have I really done anything to prove she can? However much I feel it’s not true. We hardly know one another, although I intend to rectify that. Having her here is step one.

“I’m not free, April. There’s still you and those kids you help. A community that relies on what you offer their children, their young people. You told me you’ve given them a purpose, somewhere to go. Kept them off the streets. As I said before, I develop communities. I don’t want all your hard work to go to waste. The fire has destroyed the building, but all it means is we will need to rebuild it. Nothing changes.”

She stares at me as if weighing up my words, looking for a lie.

In some ways, the fire has solved my problem with the board. Delays are now inevitable; their argument no longer carries any weight. I really do have a blank canvas on which to work.

April shakes her head, dropping it back and staring at the ceiling. “It’s over,” she says almost too quietly for me to hear.

“What’s over?”

“There’s nothing left for me here. I can’t help you or them anymore.”

When her eyes finally meet mine, I can’t miss the sheen of tears. A sense of panic crushes my chest.

What does she mean?

I incline my head. Leaning forward, I take the hand she has placed on the table and bring her focus back to me.

“Has everything I’ve been saying to you over the past fewweeks gone in one ear and out of the other?” I ask. “Because I distinctly remember saying they do matter. That I want to ensure they have a place in the new development. You, April, are part of that. You are helping to bridge the gap. They trust you to be their spokesperson.”

She stares at me for a moment before shaking her head.

“Have you failed to notice my home is gone, my business is gone? My foothold in their community has just gone up in flames. The only thing I have to my name is my handbag, some second-hand clothes the ladies in the charity shop put together for me, and an old stuffed teddy bear. My life is in tatters, Cal. You’re delusional if you think I can help.”

This time, I don’t suppress my smile. “Maybe I am. I’ve been called worse. As for homeless, that’s easily rectified. You can stay here—it’s not like there isn’t plenty of room. I’ll employ you as a consultant. You can work with my team as a go-between.”