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AMELIA/CALEB

AMELIA

Tia and Amir decided on the marble cake, so everyone can get the best of both worlds at the wedding. Perfect choice, in my opinion, because that was definitely an “orgasm in my mouth” as Henry would say.

FYI, according to him, every single cake was an orgasm.

It’s still early, and I have no plans after, so I ask Caleb if we could stop by the makeup store before he drops me back off. I need a restock and to have a little splurging moment. It’s been a while.

“Is this a lip liner?” Caleb lifts a brow pencil, swiping a few strokes on the back of his hand.

“No, it’s a brow pencil.” I walk over the lipstick section, choosing a brown shade, and swipe a few strokes to the back of his hand next to it. “This is a lip liner.”

He furrows his brows, squinting at his hand. “They look exactly the same.”

Oh, such a clueless man.

He wanders around the store like a little kid, grabbing every lipstick he can find, swatching them on the back of his hand, and asking me if I like the shade.

He finally swipes a color with a nice mauve undertone. “What about this one?”

I give him an impressed look. “I’d wear it.”

He tosses it into a little basket he’s suddenly carrying.

“What are you doing?” I take a peek inside and all the products I mentioned getting next time are in there.

Leave-in conditioner, lipstick, foundation.

“Shopping.” He shrugs.

“Correction…I’m shopping!” I laugh, reaching for the basket. “And you’re browsing.”

“Fine. Then I’m your personal chauffeur and professional basket holder,” he corrects, pulling the basket away from me. “Have fun.”

“You’re crazy.” I chuckle and stride over to the curly hair section, Caleb trailing behind me, pulling out his phone.

He snaps a photo and posts it on his socials, without me even telling him a thing this time. He’s getting the hang of it.

My phone buzzes. I pull it out of my pocket and click the notification. The photo of his hand holding the basket with the bright colored swatches all over fills the screen, along with the caption:

This hand is reserved for @ameliacruztaylor only

I glance at him and burst out laughing as we get a few looks. “Great caption choice.”

“Thanks, I worked really hard on coming up with that one.”

CALEB

After dropping Amelia off, I make my way home. The patter of rain lightly splashes against my windshield, welcoming a change from the LA heat. I open my apartment door and slip off my shoes, ready to wind down for the night. I sink into the couch and flip on a few football games.

A few hours later, my phone buzzes in my pocket.

I pull it out and freeze at the name flashing on the screen. Thomas Hayes.

I hesitate for a second before answering, pressing the phone to my ear.

“What?”

“Is that anyway to greet your father?” He scoffs.

“Go on.”

“Your play was a shitty move.” His voice edged with disapproval, that I’m all too familiar with. “You risked it by nearing the sidelines.”

“We won, so what does it matter?” I say, irritation rising as I switch off the TV.

“It matters because it was sloppy. The older you get, the worse you’re playing because why did you hesitate in the fourth quarter, you know Carter was open?—”

I clench my teeth, gripping the back of my neck.

“You keep playing this poorly, and you’ll be just another quarterback whose success dies down before their thirtieth birthday. If you don’t start listening to me, you can go ahead and kiss that success goodbye now."

I had a lot to prove throughout college. Living up to his expectations wasn’t exactly easy. I’ve put in the work, but it’s still never enough for him.

“I’m trying—” I start, squeezing my thumb hard, a small crack echoing in the silence.

“You think trying means shit?” he interrupts. “Stop playing house with your little girlfriend.”

The line clicks dead.

My jaw locks, heat crawling up my spine. I should be used to this by now. I should be able to continue my night and brush it off.

But somehow, he’s the only one who can really get under my skin. The only one who can make me feel like that little boy again, desperate for his father’s approval.

He doesn’t talk to anyone else but me like this. He’s a great father to my sister, and a good husband for my mom, but to me? Tsk.

I shake my head, nostrils flaring. Before I know it, I’m in my car, heading to the one person who grounds me most.