I could collapse or I could work. I chose to work. I took the one truck we had left and I turned it into 10, then a hundred, then a fleet. I built an empire because I didn't know how to do anything else with the grief. She looked up at Caleb.
The vulnerability in her eyes was startling. It was raw, bleeding through the cracks of a very expensive facade. The problem is, Caroline whispered, "When you build a fortress to keep the pain out, you eventually realize you've locked yourself inside. I have money. I have power.
I have absolutely nothing else. Caleb reached across the table. He didn't think about it. He just moved. He placed his rough, scarred hand over hers.
Her skin was cool. Her fingers twitched, surprised by the contact, but she didn't pull away. "You're not locked in," Caleb said quietly. "You're sitting here." Caroline looked down at their hands.
A slow, tentative exhale left her lips as if she had been holding her breath for a decade. Yes, she said softly. When dinner ended, Caleb asked for the check out of habit. The waiter politely ignored him and looked at Caroline, who simply nodded. The bill was settled invisibly, a transaction Caleb was meant to ignore.
It grated on his pride. A low-level irritation scratching at the back of his mind. They walked outside. The street was quiet. A light mist had started to fall, slicking the cobblestones and casting halos around the street lamps.
"My driver is waiting around the corner," Caroline said, pulling her coat tighter against the damp chill. "I can have him take you home." "No," Caleb said quickly. "The subway is fine. It's faster this time of night anyway."
Caroline turned to face him. The height difference wasn't massive, but Caleb felt grounded, solid, anchoring her to the pavement. "Caleb," she said, her voice dropping to that low hum that demanded attention. I enjoyed tonight more than I've enjoyed an evening in a very long time. Me too, he admitted.
The cynicism he had carried into the restaurant was gone, replaced by a quiet, terrified hope. She stepped closer, the scent of sandalwood and rain. She reached up, her cool fingers grazing the rough stubble on his jaw. Caleb's breath caught in his throat. He leaned down, closing the distance.
The kiss was entirely unlike the rest of her. It wasn't sharp or calculated or commanding. It was soft, hesitant, a quiet question asked in the dark. Caleb's hand found the small of her back, pulling her slightly closer, feeling the heat of her through the heavy wool coat. When they pulled apart, Caroline was smiling.
It was a real unrestrained smile. Thursday, she said, "My house. I'll cook. Caleb laughed. Billionaires cook.