moved.”
His mood seems to darken further. “He’s an idiot.”
“Hey,” I cry. “Don’t call him that.”
“Well he was and always has been.” His hands squeeze the wheel, making his gloves squeak against the rubber. “His life choices were selfish and preposterous at best.”
I shake my head, wanting to ignore him for insulting my Caleb.
After a long sigh, he glances at me. “Don’t get worked up. Caleb would have just laughed at my seemingly harsh words. I mean them in jest more than I mean them in distaste.”
“But you do mean them in distaste. You shouldn’t speak ill of the… the…”
“Dead,” he finishes for me when he sees that I can’t finish it myself. “Calm yourself. If I know Caleb, he’d hate to know how much stress you’re feeling.” Why does he seem to say this like the words taste sour? “It’s not good for the child.”
I don’t respond. He’s right, obviously, but it’s not like I have a stress switch I can just flick on and off. Not as much as I’d like. Stress is a part of this life unfortunately and, considering the circumstances, it’s no surprise I have a rather unhealthy dose of it.
Staring at his profile hurts and I wonder if that feeling will ever stop. He’s not a clone of Caleb, not at all. Their differences are significant in looks and personality, but there’s enough of Caleb in his face to make me ache.
It’s all still fresh. It’s only been a month since he died. That’s not enough time to truly get over someone and this is Caleb. My Caleb. My first love, the first man I gave myself too.
I’ll never get over that.
“Why are you staring at me?” I see his lips thin to a white line. I’m irritating him.
“Sorry,” I mumble and stare out of the window. I just can’t decide whether it’s painful or strangely soothing to look at him, knowing that the life in my womb isn’t the only piece of Caleb left in the world.
There’s a gentle tapping sensation under the surface of my skin. I gasp and sit up, placing my hand over the bump.
“What is it? Is it the baby?”
“He just kicked me a little harder than usual,” I explain, still rubbing my abdomen. “It’s not a big deal. It just shocked me. I’ve never felt him move so obviously before. It’s usually just little taps and fluttering, but this was more prominent.”
He nods, seemingly appeased.
Time for silence.
He was right when he said I’d find his house to be of good taste. It’s really not what I expected, not in the slightest. This is a family home. It’s large and spacious, with a lot of land surrounding it. We’re atop of a cliff but about three miles from the edge.
I noticed other homes as we ascended the steep incline, but not one of them were as pretty as this one. Caleb grew up in the city nearby with his parents; it was the place he escaped. Not liking the hustle and bustle of a busy place, from a young age, he searched for a smaller town and found mine.
I’m wondering why Nathan lives so far out of the way. Sure it’s only an hour drive from London, but it seems like an unnecessary one. This man is complex, I see that now.
“The fridge is full of food suitable for your condition,” he explains as he guides me into the entrance hall.
Condition? I’m pregnant. This isn’t a condition.
Sigh.
I take off my coat and watch him hang it inside a closet to my right. There are wide stairs to the left against the wall. Before those is an archway leading to what looks to be the living area, which is huge, very old fashioned and quite cosy if I’m being completely honest.
I’ve always been into modern and quirky furnishings but this place is all antique and comfort. The walls could do with brightening up from their deep browns and oranges. The hallway is beige with a wooden border to make up the bottom half.
“These lights are cool,” I remark and point at the candle shaped wall lights.
“If you get cold the thermostat is here and there’s another one upstairs in the hallway. Just press the plus button until you get to the desired temperature and press this button.” He moves on to the next thing, showing me how to work the oven and the water purifier. “I need to leave now. Make yourself at home. My number is by the phone in