Page 39 of Another Last Call
I still didn’t entirely trust Caleb. The whole situation was ridiculous, and the people who I’d told about it agreed. Though, in fairness, most of them said that my mom was the craziest one in the whole situation, and that Caleb was doing the best he could and was far nicer to me than I probably deserved.
Being away from the bar and my apartment and the whole situation for a week had helped put that into perspective. I was still annoyed that Caleb had gone behind my back and bought half the bar without even telling me, but The Sea Glass wasn't shutting down. And really, that was what mattered.
I hadn’t heard from him at all that week, though I wasn’t expecting to. He had brought in a crew of people to repair the major issues, and as soon as they cleared him to go in, he’d taken over the renovations. I had given him my keys to the bar and my apartment, told him to call me as soon as I could move back in, and that was that.
My time was spent reading, sleeping, watching trashy TV, and playing my guitar. For the first time in what felt like forever, I had the energy to learn new music. I played for hours, stopping only so my fingers wouldn’t bleed, and then going back to it.
On the fifth evening of my blissful, solitude-filled vacation, I broke my G-string.
And yes, every guitarist ever has heard all the jokes, innuendos, and anecdotes about the G-string. It didn’t change the fact that the sudden snap shocked me. I stared at my guitar in disbelief. It had been a long time since I’d broken a string while playing, and the shock gave way to frustration as I realized I hadn’t brought any spares with me.
Putting the guitar in my case, I contemplated my options. I hadn’t heard from Caleb yet, though at his earliest estimate it would be another two days before I could get back in my apartment. I could go ask him if he’d let me in so I could grab the spare string. Or I could wait until the morning and drive to the city to get a new string.
That would take the better part of half a day, at least, which was not appealing. The bar was just down the street, and I was sure Caleb wouldn’t mind letting me in the apartment for a couple of seconds to grab a spare string. Mind made up, I shrugged on my flannel jacket over the old T-shirt dress I’d been lounging around in, then grabbed my keys and went out to my car.
The air was cold and I shivered, but didn’t bother going back inside to put on leggings or jeans or anything. I mean, I was going to be five minutes.
Except when I pulled up to the bar, the parking lot was empty. I frowned as I put my car in park. It was early evening, and while theoretically, I knew that meant Caleb could have gone home for the day, his renovation plan had him working long hours so we didn’t have to be closed longer than necessary.
Could he be there without his truck? I jumped out of my car and went to the front door. It was locked tight, and I peered through the window. The lights were off, and I couldn’t see anything inside. Maybe it was done, I mused, and that made me frown even more. If the renovations were done, why couldn’t I go back to my apartment?
As I walked back to my car, I tried calling Caleb. The phone rang a few times, then went to voicemail. I hung up. Frustrated, I got back in the car and tapped my fingers on the steering wheel.
There were plenty of perfectly good reasons for Caleb to not be at the bar. However, it didn’t explain why he didn’t answer his phone. And I really… Ireallywanted to get my G-string. Sure, he could have been in the city or something, but he also might just be at home taking a break or eating dinner or… I mean, it wasn’t a big deal for me to just check, right? He lived five minutes away. Licking my lips, I put my car in drive, turned around, and went to Caleb’s lake house.
I breathed a sigh of relief as my car bumped up the gravel driveway and I saw his truck parked out front. Parking next to it, I jumped out of the car and went up to the door, knocking three times loudly.
Then, I waited.
He didn’t answer right away. Shivering, I shifted from side to side, rubbing my legs together as I regretted again not putting a pair of leggings on. Just as I was considering ringing the bell, the door opened.
Part of me had wanted to be annoyed with him for not being at the bar. I mean, I technically couldn’t go home because of the renovations, so it was frustrating that he wasn’t there. But I’d suppressed that and as he opened the door, I internally congratulated myself for not getting angry.
Maybe it was a stupid thing to be proud of, but considering how frustrated I’d been with Caleb over the whole thing, I figured it was a small personal victory.
Ragged was the only word I could think of to describe how he looked. There were flecks of paint on his cheeks and forehead. His hair was tangled and sticking up on one side, and dark, puffy bags hung under his eyes. He was shirtless, wearing baggy grey sweatpants that hung on his hips, and he stared at me blearily before blinking as if to clear a haze out of his eyes.
“Did I wake you up?” I asked.
His voice was hoarse. “Mags, please don’t lecture me. I came back for a few hours’ sleep while the paint dries. I swear to God I’ve been working my ass off all week.”
“I wasn’t trying to be a bitch,” I said as evenly as I could. “I was going to apologize for waking you.”
He considered me for a moment, then looked down and shook his head. “Sorry. Yes, I was sleeping. But I was supposed to get up half an hour ago and go back to do a second coat. I missed the alarm.”
“You look like hell.”
He frowned, his lips moving as he tried to respond.
I grimaced. “Sorry. I meant it like, are you okay?”
Again he considered me, as if processing what I was saying. Finally, a grin broke out on his face and he laughed.
“Shit. If I look half as tired as I feel, I’m surprised you didn’t run away screaming.”
I tried to hold in a laugh, looking down and smiling as Caleb shook his head. “So you’re mostly okay, then.”
“Mostly okay,” he agreed. “Wait, what… why are you here?”
