Page 40

ARELLA

By the time I get home from my thinking spot, it’s well past two in the morning, and Caleb is still gone. I call him, but he doesn’t pick up, so I fall asleep without him.

When I wake up around nine, I’m still without him. Did he stay the night at Rakesh’s?

After I brush my teeth, I call him, but he doesn’t answer.

Twenty minutes later, I ring him again. Same thing.

Due to being out late, I called in sick to work, so I’m home when Caleb finally returns around noon.

“Is everything okay?” I ask when he strolls through the door.

“Yeah,” he says as he kicks off his shoes. “Why are you home? I thought you had work today.”

“I got the day off.”

“Oh.” He barely looks at me as he rushes into our bedroom.

I follow him. “How’s Rakesh doing?”

“He’s all right.” After unbuttoning the top three buttons of his pastel shirt, Caleb drags it over his head and tosses it into the hamper. “We took a trip up to Bakersfield to visit his family last night. He felt better after that.”

I climb onto our bed and sit with my legs to the side. “Is that why you were out all night?”

“Yeah. We stayed at his mom’s place.”

It would have been nice if Caleb had told me that. I suppose it’s not like I was up all night worrying about where he was though. “I called you a few times.”

“I saw. Sorry I didn’t pick up. I fell asleep in the car on the way back.”

But you didn’t pick up last night either. “Do you think we could look at our schedules today to see when we can reschedule our date night?”

“Uh, sure.” His tone comes out somewhere between hesitant and forced. “Let me take a quick shower first. I feel gross right now.”

I’m on the couch when Caleb comes out of the bathroom from his longer-than-usual shower. He doesn’t look at me as he heads straight past me and into the kitchen.

He opens the fridge. “I’m going to head to the gym, then Rakesh wants me to come over after that. I’ll probably get dinner with him before I head to work tonight, so don’t worry about me for food, okay?”

He already spends more time with Rakesh than he does with me.

Now he’s getting dinner with Rakesh too?

During the only time I ever get to see him?

Seriously? Do I even know this man anymore?

I wouldn’t even consider us roommates at this point.

He’s like a stranger to me. More of a stranger to me than Trey the first time I saw him standing on my doorstep.

There’s always been a part of me that’s felt connected to Trey.

I thought I felt like that with Caleb, but now I don’t feel connected to him at all.

I step into the kitchen to find the stranger I happen to live with munching on a granola bar. “Can you pull up your work schedule?”

“What for?” he asks through a mouthful.

“So we can compare schedules and plan our next date night?” What we said we were going to do before you showered.

“Oh, that’s right. Could we do it later? I’m supposed to meet Rakesh at the gym soon.”

I suck in a deep breath, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. “Fine. Whatever.”

Turning on my heel, I storm away. I expect him to stop me or ask what’s wrong, but he doesn’t. This is what I mean when I say he doesn’t care. He hasn’t cared for a while, so I don’t know why I keep trying.

After Caleb leaves, I try not to cry as I write down a list of the things I want to hash out with him.

I vowed to myself after Nathan that I would not stay in a relationship where I felt abused or unwanted ever again.

Caleb doesn’t abuse me, but he doesn’t want me either.

And if he does, he’s got a crappy way of showing it.

I’ll tell him he’s got one month to make things better between us or I’m out.

The next day, I bring out my list during dinner and hand it to Caleb.

“What’s this?” he asks with his fork halfway to his lips.

I play with the mashed potatoes on my plate. “It’s a list of all the things I think we should work on as a couple.”

He stares at the piece of paper in his hand. “Make spending quality time together a priority. Actually look at each other when we’re having a conversation. Have more conversations. Have monthly date nights. Be intimate again.” He sets the paper down, then goes straight back to eating his steak.

I wait a moment before asking, “Sooo... ? What do you think?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“As in, I don’t know,” he says, clipped. “You keep saying you want to spend more time together, but it’s hard to do that when you work days and I work nights.”

“That’s why I suggested that we make it a priority. Like yesterday, I had the day off, but you went to the gym with Rakesh.”

“I always go to the gym with him on Mondays. It’s our leg day.”

“Yeah, but you had dinner with him too, which is supposed to be our time together.”

“Because I was going to his place after the gym, and then I had to work after that. It just made more sense to get dinner with him so I wouldn’t have to drive back and forth.”

“You didn’t have to go to his place after the gym. You could have come home if you wanted to.” And that’s the problem. He didn’t want to.

“Rakesh wanted me to come over because he wanted to talk to me about going to the funeral with him this weekend.”

“Are you?”

“Yeah. The wake is on Sunday, and the funeral is on Monday. We’re going to leave Saturday morning and stay at his mom’s place. I should be back Tuesday afternoon.”

That seems like a long time to be gone for one funeral. “Are you going to be able to get the days off for that?”

“I already did. I asked my boss last night.”

How was it that easy for him to get three nights off in a row at the last minute? Whenever I ask if he can take one night off for me, he always makes it seem like it’s a hassle to even ask. “What about all the other stuff on my list?”

He cuts into his steak with a knife. “What about them?”

“Do you think we could try to work on them together?”

“How do you want to do that?”

“Well, I was thinking for the intimacy one, we could start with cuddling more.” Or at all would be nice.

“Sure,” he says halfheartedly.

I pretend like he said it with enthusiasm. “Do you want to cuddle after dinner?”

“Not for long. I’ve gotta go to work soon.”

I suppose that’s better than no .

After I get the kitchen cleaned up, I sit on the couch and wait for Caleb.

He comes out of the bedroom in his security guard uniform and plops onto the cushion next to me.

When he puts his arm around me, it feels forced, not eager.

When I lay my head against his stiff chest, it feels awkward, not comforting.

We get about two silent minutes in before Caleb says, “I’ve gotta go before I’m late.”

I push myself off him and try not to frown. “Okay. Have a good night at work.”

He gets his shoes on and rushes out the door like he couldn’t get away from me fast enough. For being held by a security guard, I didn’t feel safe or protected once.