Except, I know that’s not who Caleb really is. It’s the image most everyone sees, but there’s so much more to him. He’s fiercely loyal and totally devoted to those lucky enough to be considered his family. He’s funny and sweet, and the sexiest man I’ve ever laid eyes on.
He’s totally uninhibited, both in bed and out of it, and if I were a braver sort of girl, I’d lean into that. But I’m not.
I don’t take risks, and I don’t hang out with people who do. I learned at a young age that risks come with a cost. And there’s not enough of me left to give. When my mom left, my dad and I were broken. I couldn’t believe someone I loved and trusted would ever walk away like that. And I couldn’t stand to see my dad so lost, so unsure, so…disappointed. I promised myself back then that I’d never be vulnerable enough to be hurt that way again, and to do whatever it took to keep that look of absolute sadness off my dad’s face.
We stop for lunch at a diner, and our conversation is stilted. In a lot of ways, we’re right back where we started. We’re practically strangers again, but it’s hard to go backwards. I remember being a kid and how it was so easy to get used to summer vacation. The day the calendar switched to June, my body acclimated. I could sleep in a little later and stay up later too. But when August rolled around, switching back to my routine was so much harder than easing into a new one.
So you know what I did? I stopped sleeping in. I kept to my school schedule year-round. No more late nights and sleepy mornings for me.And that’s what I need to do with Caleb. No, with Whit. That’s who he is and who he has to be. It would be easy—too easy—to get used to him, to lean on him. But relationships are rarely permanent things, and though I know he’s a good guy, nothing about Whit screams permanence. And how awful would it be to start a relationship and then break up, only to have to see each other regularly for the rest of our lives?
“You alright, Lucy?” he asks, swiping a fry from my plate, though he still has a mountain of them on his own.
“Of course,” I reply automatically. “Just thinking about everything I need to do once we get to Madison.”
“Internship starts soon, yeah?”
I nod. “It officially starts next Monday, but they’ve rescheduled the meet and greet for tomorrow night, so I need to prepare for that.”
Caleb looks at me quizzically. “How does one prepare for a meet and greet? I get the feeling you’re not talking about getting your hair and nails done.”
“No,” I laugh. “Though, I could definitely use a trim,” I say, threading my fingers through my too-long tresses. “I need to brush up on names and associations. I have notes on everyone who works at the foundation, but I need to refresh so I can remember whose kid is in orchestra, who’s a dog mom, and who just got engaged. There will also be a fair number of donors at tomorrow’s event, so I need to brush up on their info too. And unlike you, my brain doesn’t automatically make associations like that. I have to work for it.”
His killer grin comes out to play. “Are you saying I don’t have to work for it, Lucy?”
I’m so tempted to flirt back, but I can’t. That part of our story is over. “Not like I do,” I tell him. “So I’ll spend tonight and most of tomorrow studying the notecards I’ve made.”
“And here I pictured you pampering yourself for the day, your hair up in a towel, cucumbers over your eyes. Then you’d slip into some sexy little cocktail dress, pull your hair up in some fancy twist, and kick corporate ass for a few hours.”
“No. That’s definitely not in the plan, though a visit to the hairdresser isn’t a bad idea. But the cocktail dress? Hardly. The LifeReach Foundation is actually pretty conservative. It’s not my vibe, but they’re very successful and influential, so that’s the price I have to pay to get where I need to go. And that price includes a very strict dress code.”
“A dress code? Like, no bare shoulders or some shit?”
“Ha! Nope, way worse. I can’t wear pants. Skirts and dresses only with pantyhose, and the hem has to come to my knee. My arms need to be covered by sleeves that are ¾ length or longer, and I need to wear closed toed heels.”
Caleb’s mouth hangs open. “Jesus. Are you working for the Duggars?”
“You’re not too far off, actually. I had to agree to a morality clause and a curfew. But it’s only until the end of April, so I can manage.”
“Wait, you said LifeReach? Jesus. I’ve heard about them. They make Booker’s dad look progressive. Christ. I don’t think these are the kind of people you want to get mixed up with.”
I roll my eyes and wave off his concern. “You sound like they’re a motorcycle gang or something. They’re just a bunch of conservative prudes. Like I said, not my type, but I’m willing to play the game to get what I want, which is their stamp of approval on my resume.”
Caleb looks skeptical, but he nods and takes a sip of his Coke. “You all done, or do you want dessert?”
“Dessert? No. I’ve indulged way too much on this road trip. Time to get back to a better eating regimen.”
He looks down at my clean plate, where a cheeseburger and fries sat not twenty minutes ago. But to his credit, he says nothing.
“Cool. I’m gonna get a slice of pie and pay the check. But don’t worry—I’ll eat my dessert before I get into the car.”
“See that you do,” I say more primly than necessary. “And thanks for lunch. I’m going to head to the ladies’ room. Meet you outside?”
“Sounds good.” He walks up to the cash counter, and I head toward the back of the restaurant. For a second, I want to turn around and thread my fingers through his. I want to steal bites of the slice of lemon meringue pie he’s buying. I want to steam up the windows of his car before we get back on the road.
But I don’t do any of those things. Because I’m Lucy Alvarez, and I know how to stick to the plan, even when it’s the last thing I want to do.
* * *
Whit
