30. Vines of Passion

Caleb grapples with the unraveling certainty that his relationship with Naomi may be irreparably over.

CALEB

I sat alone in the sand, watching the sunrise paint the sky in hues of orange and pink. The ocean waves crashed rhythmically, a soothing backdrop to my racing thoughts. Exhausted from my morning run, I had pushed myself hard through the soft sand, feeling the pain in my chest not from physical exertion, but from the relentless ache of heartbreak. Every step, every breath felt heavier with the weight of missing Naomi, unbearable in its intensity.

After our first night together, waking up to find her gone had left me gutted, unexpectedly raw. Back then, I didn't even know her beyond our initial hours long conversation and the best sex of my life, but now, after everything we had shared, the emptiness felt even more profound. Each morning, as my feet sank into the familiar sand, it echoed the breaking of my heart. It was like a slow death, feeling it crack a little more with each passing day.

So, there I sat, where desperation had driven me like that first morning I woke up without her. I prayed—or rather, I begged, then demanded of God. I reminded Him of my recent acts of faith, my attempts to show that I believed in His power. Yet, despite my pleas, despite my promises of readiness and care if He would only bring her back to me, time kept passing, and I felt myself crumbling under the weight of uncertainty.

"I can't take this anymore," I muttered into the wind, my voice carried away by the ocean breeze.

I sat there, the sand warm beneath me, watching as the sun climbed higher in the sky. The ache in my chest intensified with each passing minute, a physical manifestation of the longing I felt for Naomi. Memories flooded my mind—her laughter, the way she looked at me, the warmth of her touch. It all felt so distant now, yet painfully close, like a wound that refused to heal.

"So why isn't it enough for you to want to see where this goes beyond next week?" I asked her.

"Please be patient with me, Caleb," she pleaded, voice trembling with emotion. "I'm not saying I'm leaving California and you'll never see me again. I'm saying I have things to clean up in New York, and I don't know what happens after that. And that before I prioritize anything further with you, I still have a lot of healing to do."

"You don't have to be fully healed for me to want you, Naomi," I countered, my words infused with quiet intensity. "What if being with me is part of your healing? Having someone take care of you, take a load off your shoulders for once."

I closed my eyes, trying to steady my breathing against the storm raging inside me. "God," I whispered, the words carried away by the sea breeze. "Please, bring her back to me. I’m at the end of my road."

The sound of crashing waves filled the silence, offering no answers, only a relentless reminder of the passage of time. I felt a wave of frustration wash over me. "I've done everything I could," I muttered bitterly. "I've prayed, I've waited, I've tried to be patient. But how much longer do I have to endure this shit, man?"

The sun's warmth on my face offered no comfort, only a stark contrast to the cold ache in my heart. I clenched my fists, feeling the grains of sand slip through my fingers.

"If she's meant to be mine," I said aloud, the words carrying a weight I could barely bear, "then show me a sign. Give me something to hold on to."

But as the minutes stretched on, the only answer was the relentless pounding of the surf and the emptiness within me. I bowed my head, tears stinging my eyes, feeling utterly alone in the vast expanse of the beach.

Minutes later, I walked into Marlon's beach house feeling the weight of the past weeks dragging behind me like a heavy chain. He greeted me with his usual nonchalance, but his eyes, always sharp, caught the rawness in my expression.

"You was down on that beach crying and shit, ain’t it?" Marlon's question sliced through the air, hitting a nerve I hadn't realized was exposed.

I shrugged, avoiding eye contact as I closed the door behind me. "Just needed some air, got my run in," I muttered, heading into the kitchen.

When I left Naomi’s place in Brooklyn, I didn't have a plan. I drove aimlessly, letting the road stretch out before me like an escape route. Twenty-four hours later, I found myself in Florida, knocking on Marlon's door with a mind as empty as the highway I'd left behind.

Marlon didn't ask questions. He took me in, gave me space, and made sure I had what I needed without smothering me with pity or unwanted advice. His routine at the restaurant kept him occupied from dawn till dusk, leaving me alone with my thoughts—an arrangement that suited me just fine.

"It's okay to cry, man. I’d cry too if I had them weak ass calf muscles," Marlon teased.

“Man, fuck you,” I shot back, though there was no real venom in my words, just a half-hearted attempt at banter as I headed in the kitchen.

He chuckled, unfazed. “Left breakfast on the table for your grumpy ass,” Marlon called out as he headed towards the door. “Lunch and dinner in Tupperware in the fridge—”

“I told you, you don’t have to—”

“Man, shut yo ass up,” Marlon interrupted, his tone playful yet firm.

I smirked despite myself, shaking my head in silent gratitude before taking a long sip of water. After a moment, I walked over and gave him a dap, the familiar gesture a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken bond between us.

“I appreciate you, man,” I said sincerely, meeting Marlon’s gaze. He nodded, his expression reflecting the depth of understanding that words couldn't convey.

"It’s nothing, man," he said, already bustling around the living room. "Just make sure you actually wash yo ass today and be at my investor meeting on time. Gotta show off my brainiac cousin to these rich people; it’ll make me look good."

I chuckled, appreciating the chance to feel useful after weeks of aimless wandering within myself.

"I don’t know why you're considering investors when I can give you what you need," I countered, sinking into the couch. Marlon knew I'd give him the shirt off my back—or whatever cash he needed. It couldn’t be much, and I didn’t understand why he wouldn’t just ask.

"Family and money don’t mix, man," Marlon replied, his tone serious.

"That’s bullshit and you know it," I shot back, pushing my doubts aside. My own family had worked together seamlessly in business; my father and his had sealed deals without a hitch. What was Marlon hesitating about?

"Whatever, man. Just make sure your Black ass is on time—eastern time — not CP. Dressed to impress," Marlon insisted, his conviction clear.

"You talking to me like I don’t know how to be professional," I quipped, a smirk tugging at my lips. "You know Ma sent some of my clothes out."

He opened the door, a smirk mirroring mine. "Spoiled ass… see you later," he said, shutting the door behind him.

I nodded to myself, the weight of the day settling on my shoulders. Today, at least, I had a purpose beyond my own swirling thoughts.

Before I hit the showers, I pulled out my phone and typed Naomi's name into Google, hoping for any updates on her case. It had been radio silence from her end since Dorian's cryptic call, confirming that everything we'd sent to the FBI had hit its mark. The media had cleared her name, thanks to the viral wave of support on social media after Kayla’s arrest, yet Naomi remained quiet, opting not to speak out.

I knew she was overwhelmed, grappling with the aftermath of it all. I wanted to step in, to offer her solutions, but I had made a pact with God. It was her move now, a sign that she wanted to come back to me. For all my intensity and focus, her prolonged silence felt like a verdict: she didn't want me anymore and maybe it was time for me to start making peace with that.

At 5:45 on the dot, I emerged from my rental car into the bustling parking lot of Marlon’s pride and joy, Coastal Fusion. Valet attendants bustled about, ensuring each vehicle was parked with precision. Marlon insisted on excellence, from the kitchen to the curb, and it showed.

I was feeling a sense of pride in my appearance that I hadn’t felt in almost two months. The early evening sun cast long shadows across the parking lot, as I adjusted the lapels of my charcoal-gray suit jacket. The fabric felt smooth under my fingers, tailored just right to complement my frame without feeling restrictive. The suit trousers were a shade darker, impeccably pressed, and I could feel the quality with every step.

Underneath, a crisp white dress shirt peeked out, the collar neatly pressed against my neck. The tie, a deep navy blue with a subtle pattern of tiny silver dots, added a touch of sophistication without being too flashy. My shoes, polished to a high shine, echoed the navy tones of the tie, completing the ensemble with a sense of understated elegance.

I straightened my jacket one last time, running a hand through my hair to ensure it was in place. Confidence surged through me as I prepared to enter the investors' meeting, knowing that my appearance reflected not just professionalism, but a quiet assurance that Marlon had everything in place for them to receive a healthy return on their investment.

Kirby, a young college student I'd befriended during previous visits when he valet’d my car, flashed a grin as he approached the driver’s side while sending a text. “Looking sharp, Caleb,” he greeted with a nod of approval. “When I’m stacking like you and Marlon, best believe I’ll be rocking suits just like that.”

I chuckled at Kirby's enthusiasm, his eagerness palpable as he eyed the Mercedes. "You're on your way, man," I replied, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Keep grinding, and you'll get there sooner than you think."

Kirby rubbed his hands together, a hopeful glint in his eyes. "Let me hold this car for my date tomorrow, and I'll get there faster," he proposed.

"Hell no," I scoffed, chuckling at his persistence. "You're too much, man."

"But come on, Caleb," Kirby persisted, leaning out of the car. "It's this girl from my chem class. Marlon said he'd give me a discount so I can take her to dinner here. I gotta impress her, man. Do your part to help a young brotha out."

I shook my head, amused by his determination. "I'll let you know," I called back as I walked towards the entrance.

"If it's a no, just say that," Kirby yelled after me, his voice booming with hope and humor.

As I strode toward the private dining area that Marlon had meticulously arranged for the evening, a surge of gratitude flooded my chest. Tonight’s dinner wasn’t merely about wooing investors; it was a chance for me to express my appreciation for Marlon’s unwavering support.

From hosting me in his home to taking that week off to stand by me in Cali along with Valentina and Victor—despite never leaving Coastal Fusion since it opened—Marlon had been holding me down. Our relationship was never transactional; it was built on mutual respect and trust, yet I was determined to repay his loyalty.

The ambiance of the restaurant, with its sleek décor and panoramic views, mirrored Marlon’s dedication to perfection. Each detail, from the carefully arranged tables to the soft glow of candlelight, spoke volumes about his commitment to making tonight a success. As I approached the entrance, the anticipation of the evening’s proceedings mingled with a sense of responsibility. Helping Marlon impress these investors wasn’t just a professional obligation; it was a personal mission to honor his generosity and steadfast friendship.

Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I pushed open the door to the private dining room, expecting to find a gathering of investors and Marlon’s charismatic presence. Instead, the room was bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, casting warm hues across the table set for two. A harpist played "Weak" by SWV in the corner, the gentle melody filling the space with a hauntingly romantic atmosphere.

There she stood, framed against the floor-to-ceiling glass window that overlooked the beach, a vision in a flowing white dress that seemed to catch the dying rays of sunlight. Her hair cascaded around her shoulders in loose waves, as if caught in an unseen breeze. Naomi. My Naomi. My heart skipped a beat, then raced uncontrollably as I struggled to comprehend her presence before me.

I closed my eyes briefly, silently pleading with God for this moment to be real. When I opened them, she was still there. I stood frozen, my mind racing with disbelief. The sound of the harp faded into the background, drowned out by the thunderous beat of my heart. Words escaped me as I tried to grasp the reality of her standing there, waiting for me.

“Caleb…” Naomi’s voice quivered, reaching out across the space between us. Her eyes held a combination of longing and regret.

I wanted to pull her close, to ease whatever burden she carried, but my feet remained rooted to the ground. My name had stumbled out her lips, tears tracing silent paths down her cheeks, and my heart clenched painfully. I longed to wipe away her sorrow, to ease the anguish etched in every line of her face.

"I... um... I..." Her voice faltered, and I held my breath, caught between hope and apprehension. "I hope it's okay that I'm here," she finally managed to say.

Swallowing hard, my tongue felt heavy, my throat dry. "Yeah... I... What’s all this?" I asked, my gaze darting around, afraid to grasp at what might be.

Her eyes met mine, searching for something—reassurance, understanding, forgiveness—in the storm of emotions swirling between us. The silence stretched between us, taut like a bowstring, the distant strains of the harpist's music adding a surreal backdrop.

"I'm sorry," she repeated softly, her voice trembling with raw emotion.

My heart sank, emotions colliding within me like a storm-tossed sea. Anger, hurt, love—all vied for dominance in my chest. Closing the gap between us with quick strides, I couldn't bear the distance any longer.

"Sorry for what, Naomi?" I demanded, my voice edged with desperation. "For leaving? For making me believe...?"

Her eyes widened, mirroring my pain and confusion. "I'm sorry for not trusting us enough. For running...again."

The weight of her words hung heavy in the air, reverberating through my mind like a relentless echo. I struggled to grasp their full meaning, each syllable a painful reminder of our tumultuous journey. Part of me yearned to pull her close, to shield her from her doubts and fears. But in that moment, despite my outward appearance, I felt broken—a man whose heart had been swept away in a whirlwind of love, only to see it vanish just as swiftly.

I blamed myself for not protecting her, for failing to secure our love against the storms that battered us. Anger simmered within me, not just towards her for cutting our story short, but towards myself for letting it happen. I understood why she had to leave, but it hurt like Hell.

Respectful of the distance she had imposed, I struggled to maintain composure, my patience wearing thin. But deep down, all I wanted was her—the woman who had captured my heart so completely.

"I'm sorry for failing to protect you," I confessed, the weight of my words heavy with regret. "I understand why you left, Naomi. There's nothing for you to be sorry about; it was all on me."

“Caleb—" Her voice faltered, emotions overwhelming her.

"You don't have to say anything, Naomi," I interrupted gently, my voice barely audible. "Just... tell me you're here. That you want me."

Her eyes searched mine, grappling with the complexities of our shared history.

"I don't want to be away from you anymore, but I had to go," she admitted softly.

"I know," I replied, the ache in my chest easing slightly with her honesty.

Finally, sensation returned to my legs, a tremor of relief and apprehension as I closed the distance completely to the love of my life. Naomi’s eyes, brimming with love and something unspoken, held me in their gaze. She moved closer, and the ache in my chest intensified. She was stunning, radiating a beauty that tore at my resolve.

Being near her again, every fiber of my being strained against the restraint of not falling apart. I missed her, the touch of her, the smell of her, her very presence. She was my addiction, and the withdrawal had nearly undone me. I needed her like oxygen, coursing through my veins, anchoring me to sanity.

“You left me,” I blurted out, the words escaping before I could stop them.

Her expression softened, a flicker of pain crossing her features. “I know,” she whispered.

My throat tightened, emotions raw and unfiltered. “I thought… I thought I lost you forever,” I confessed, my voice cracking with the weight of my admission. The memories of loneliness, of nights spent wondering why it all went wrong, threatened to overwhelm me.

Naomi reached out, her fingers trembling as they brushed against my cheek, tracing the lines of worry etched there. “I missed you,” she murmured, her words a lifeline in the tempest of uncertainty.

A tear broke free from my eye, a silent admission of the overwhelming emotions coursing through me. "I've missed you more," I whispered, pulling her close, needing the solace of her presence against my chest.

My hands traced familiar paths over her body, rediscovering every curve and contour as she nestled against me, her nose brushing my neck. I held her tight, my fingers gently cradling the nape of her neck.

"How did you find me?" I asked, curiosity mingling with disbelief.

"I was going to return to California. I called the winery, and your parents mentioned Marlon and put me in touch with him," she explained quietly.

I chuckled softly at the absurdity of it all—the fact that I'd been in Marlon's house, conversing with him daily while he orchestrated this surprise behind my back. The complexity of emotions surged within me, a mix of gratitude, amusement, and a deep-seated longing finally quenched by her unexpected return.

"I went to your place in Brooklyn," I admitted, the words heavy with the weight of my confession. "But I couldn't bring myself to face you."

Naomi pulled back slightly, meeting my gaze with a surprised look.

"You knocked on my door," she said having the realization of my presence aloud.

"Yeah," I confirmed, my heart racing with the memory of that moment.

A soft smile curved Naomi's lips as she rested her head on my shoulder again, and we swayed together to the haunting melody of Ginuwine's "Differences," played by the harpist.

"What does this mean, Naomi?" I asked urgently, my voice tinged with desperation as I sought clarity to anchor my swirling emotions. "Are you coming back to me for good? Tell me, because I can't bear to lose you again. I need you."

"I don't ever want to live without you, Caleb. I need you too," Naomi's words washed over me like a soothing balm, bringing a smile to my lips as I held her tighter, inhaling the scent of her hair, desperate to fuse myself with her.

The music wrapped around us like a cocoon, the atmosphere charged with unspoken words and unfulfilled longing. Each second stretched taut between us, waiting for her answer to dispel the uncertainty hanging in the air.

"You're an incredible man, and no one has ever loved me the way you have. I deserve what you want to give me," she continued, her voice filled with sincerity and vulnerability that struck me to the core.

I reached out, my hands trembling slightly as I gently cupped her face, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath my fingertips. "You do deserve it, Naomi. I just want to love you. Please, let me," I pleaded, my voice thick with emotion as she leaned in closer, her eyes searching mine for reassurance.

"I don't feel him anymore," Naomi whispered in my ear, her words causing my eyes to widen in understanding. I glanced at the harpist, ensuring they couldn’t overhear us. They were blissfully lost in the song they played. "I don't have nightmares anymore."

Suddenly, images flashed through my mind—the haunting memory of Jeffrey hanging from the ceiling in that bunker, his life slipping away, the stench of death lingering in the air, and the malevolent glint in his eyes. I winced, pushing the gruesome scene aside, focusing instead on the warmth of Naomi in my arms, and the weight of her words sinking in.

"Nobody will ever hurt you again, Naomi. Not even me," I vowed, pulling her even closer, though it seemed impossible to bridge the already small distance between us.

"I still love you, and you're still a good man," she murmured, her words a salve to my soul, echoing the reassurance I had craved since the day I left that cursed bunker.

The memories haunted me sometimes, alternating between dark laughs and gut-wrenching nausea, but in this moment, I knew it had been worth enduring. Though she didn't know the full extent of what I’d done to keep her safe, she understood my unwavering commitment to her, a devotion I would uphold at any cost.

Her wording meant that she understood what this meant, what I wanted to offer her, what I was willing to dedicate my life to—loving her, protecting her with a fierceness born of desperation and devotion. I had made a promise to God that if He brought her back to me, I would cherish her, safeguard her, as if my life depended on it—because it did.

She knew I needed those exact words. She knew in her heart that I’d done something monstrous, all in her honor, to keep her safe. Despite everything, she still loved me enough to come back.

"Thank you, Baby. Anything for you," I murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"And Kayla?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

I took a deep breath, lowering my voice to ensure our conversation remained private. "Called in some favors. Mr. Jenkins owed me one too."

"Jasmine's dad?" Naomi's shock was palpable.

"Yeah. He owed me after his daughter threatened you and shot a man in my house," I replied tersely, memories of that tumultuous night flashing vividly in my mind. The urgency gripped me as I recounted, "He helped me expedite things with the FBI, getting the evidence to the right people and assembling a team swiftly to put an end to Kayla. I couldn't stand seeing you having to face her, knowing the depths of betrayal she'd sunk to with Jeffery."

Naomi's fingers intertwined with mine as we swayed to the music, a moment of rare tranquility amidst our tumultuous lives.

"Will you ever tell me where Jeffrey is?" Her voice was soft, carrying the weight of unspoken fears.

"No," I replied firmly, my grip tightening reassuringly. “And we’ll never bring it up again.”

Understanding flickered in her eyes, followed by a sigh of relief.

"Thank you," she whispered, pulling back slightly to meet my gaze, tears glistening.

“I promised you, Naomi,” I murmured, my voice edged with determination. “I'll move mountains for you. Clear your path. Eliminate any threat because you deserve a life free of shadows, and I’ll see it done.”

I cradled her face in my hands, locking gazes with her, seeing my entire world reflected in her eyes. I needed her—couldn't bear the thought of another moment without her. These past months had been a struggle, a fragile existence without her by my side, and I refused to endure it again.

"But please, don't ever leave me again," I pleaded, gripping her tightly, savoring the feel of her in my arms, only for her to gently pull away.

"I'm here now," her voice barely a whisper, her breath tickling my ear like a promise. "I'm not leaving again. We're not going anywhere," she assured me, tears shimmering in her eyes as she met my gaze with a smile that melted my heart.

"We're not," I affirmed, reaching out for her, desperate to hold onto this moment.

"No, I mean..." Her movements became deliberate, stepping back slightly as she cradled her stomach. With trembling fingers, she placed one hand on top, the other beneath, revealing a subtle swell that knocked the wind out of me.

My mouth went dry, my legs threatened to buckle beneath me as I sank to the ground in stunned silence. Her revelation hit me like a freight train, the weight of it settling in my chest like an anchor. Pressing my lips gently against her stomach, I lifted my gaze to meet her tear-filled eyes.

"Naomi?" My voice wavered with disbelief and overwhelming emotion.

She nodded, her silence speaking volumes.

Her words began tumbling out in a rush. "I was on the pill before we met. I know we weren't always careful, but I thought—"

Rising abruptly to my feet, I silenced her with a desperate kiss filled with passion and panic. Tears streamed down our faces as our embrace deepened. When we finally parted, I peppered kisses all over her face and neck, my hands trembling as they caressed her stomach.

Dropping back to my knees, I pressed fervent kisses against her belly, overwhelmed with the realization that not only was I getting her back, but we were starting a family. It felt like divine recompense for all the struggles we had faced. Double for my troubles.

Remaining on my knees, overwhelmed with gratitude, I looked to the ceiling. "Thank you, God," I murmured repeatedly, my voice choked with emotion, before Naomi joined me on the floor. "I prayed so hard, Naomi," I managed to say through tears, trying to articulate the whirlwind of emotions surging through me. "I prayed so hard for you to come back to me if it was meant to be..."

“I’m sorry I took so long”, she said overwhelmed with emotion too.

Looking at her, still in shock, a profound sense of wonder and responsibility settled over me.

"You're having my baby, Naomi?" I asked, my voice trembling with awe. "I'm going to be a father?"

Her hand found mine, fingers intertwining as she nodded, tears of joy and disbelief shimmering in her eyes. "Yes," she whispered softly. "We're having a baby."

"And you? You're coming back to me?" I asked, needing reassurance that all of this was real, that I wasn’t losing my mind after being driven to the brink of insanity by the months without her.

"I shouldn't have left. I shouldn't have been gone all this time. I should've..." Her voice trailed off, heavy with unspoken regrets as we sat together on the floor, the weight of our shared emotions almost suffocating. “And the baby, I didn’t realize what was going on, I thought it was stress and then after the FBI stuff I just got so sick, I thought it was more stress from that, I —-”

I pulled her close, enveloping her in a tight embrace, seeking to shield her from the weight of her own words.

“But the baby is good? You’re good?” I searched her eyes urgently.

“Yeah…” She reached into a pocket I hadn't noticed in her flowing dress and pulled out a sonogram. “It’s still early, but there’s a little person in here doing great, although they’re making me very sick and emotional,” she chuckled softly, handing me the sonogram.

Taking it into my trembling hands, I thought back to the last time I saw one of these, when my ex-wife had told me the baby I was getting excited about wasn’t mine, that it belonged to my best friend. Now, here I was with the woman of my dreams, being told I was going to be a father—for real this time. It overwhelmed me. Naomi and I held each other tightly, a tangled mess of emotions.

“I’m sorry, Baby, but I’ll take care of you, okay?” I assured her, my voice thick with emotion.

“I know, I know,” she whispered, her trust in me squeezing my heart with gratitude and responsibility.

“Did you tell Senior when you spoke to him?” I chuckled, imagining how ecstatic my father would be.

“No, I want us to tell your parents together. The only other person who knows is my best friend, Frankie,” she smiled softly. “She’s been my rock.”

Suddenly, Marlon's voice interrupted our intimate moment.

"All the work we did to set up this romantic table for two, and y'all sitting on the floor?" he asked, amusement and disbelief coloring his tone as he looked at us.

We both laughed, the tension breaking as we stood up from the floor. I glanced over at Marlon, a smirk playing at the corners of my mouth. I couldn't help but feel a rush of satisfaction at how seamlessly he'd pulled it off.

"We'll start course one in a minute if y'all wanna..." Marlon nodded toward the elegantly set table before slipping out of the room.

I chuckled softly to myself, shaking my head at his timing.

“I’m gonna be a Daddy,” I announced proudly, holding up the ultrasound photo to Marlon.

His eyebrows shot up, mouth agape as he quickly crossed over to us and gently took the sonogram from my hand.

“Oh shit!” His voice cracked with emotion as he glanced between me, Naomi, and the photo. For a moment, I swore I saw a tear glisten in his eye before he congratulated me with a firm dap and pulled me into a bear hug. “Congratulations, Cuz!” He turned to Naomi, his eyes still fixed on the sonogram. “Congratulations, Naomi.”

"Thank you," Naomi beamed, holding onto me tightly as Marlon stepped back.

"Ya'll were busy at that retreat, huh?" Marlon joked, his eyes twinkling with humor.

Naomi blushed, and I chuckled. "Man, go on," I said to Marlon, encouraging him to continue.

"Drinking wine and making a damn baby," Marlon teased, his grin wide as he glanced over at Naomi. "But I see the material, Cuz. I understand why you lost your mind for a little bit."

"Hey, stop eyeing my woman, bruh," I joked back, my tone light but with a hint of protective jest.

Marlon laughed heartily, his deep voice echoing in the room. "No offense, Naomi," he said, looking at her with mock seriousness, "You're beautiful, but I like my women about 250. I'm into lifting weights, you know what I mean?" He mimed flexing his muscles, playfully exaggerating.

"You got a damn problem," I teased back, chuckling at his antics.

"Nah, man, I don't," Marlon shrugged, still grinning.

"You're a fool," I said with affection, shaking my head at him.

Marlon laughed again, a rich sound that filled the room with warmth and camaraderie.

“Well, I guess I’ll cancel the champagne toast and get Mama here a mocktail or something,” he grinned, his voice betraying his attempt to keep his emotions in check.

“Yeah, man,” I agreed, feeling overwhelmed with gratitude.

Marlon let out a deep breath, his excitement palpable. “Alright then, we’re getting ready to serve the first course. I’ll let them know they can start.”

“Investor meeting, huh?” I teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“Had to get you showered and looking right somehow,” he shot back, giving me another dap before heading out of the room.

“Love you, man,” I called after him.

“Love you too, Cuz,” he replied, practically skipping out of the room, his happiness for us evident in every step.

I turned back to Naomi, still holding her hand, overwhelmed with the reality of what lay ahead for us.

“Ready to eat?” I asked Naomi.

“Always,” she smiled, her eyes betraying a mix of excitement and relief.

Helping her settle into her chair, I then took my own seat opposite her.

“Caleb, again I’m sorry—” Naomi began, her voice tinged with lingering guilt.

“Naomi, let’s leave it alone. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s all good between us now—it’s you, me, and this Baby. That’s all that matters. No more running, right?” I reached across the table, intertwining my fingers with hers.

“No more running,” she affirmed softly, her eyes locked onto mine with a newfound resolve.

And with that, Marlon’s team entered, a synchronized ballet of culinary artistry. Each course was a masterpiece, meticulously prepared and presented with the kind of care that spoke volumes about Marlon’s commitment to our evening. The first course, a delicate amuse-bouche of lobster bisque served in intricately designed bowls, elicited a delighted gasp from Naomi. She savored each spoonful, her eyes closed in appreciation.

The second course arrived, a vibrant salad of heirloom tomatoes and fresh burrata, drizzled with aged balsamic reduction. Naomi’s smile widened as she took her first bite, the flavors exploding on her palate.

“Marlon really outdid himself,” I remarked, tasting the salad, its simplicity belying its exquisite flavors.

"Everything is perfection," Naomi declared, her voice brimming with genuine admiration as she savored the flavors of the dish. "Can we move to Florida so we can eat here every day?" she mused aloud.

I couldn't help but grin. "What about my cooking?" I interjected playfully, teasing her.

She glanced at me with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. "I do love your cooking too, Baby," she corrected herself quickly, her smile infectious as I chuckled along with her. The warmth between us filled the air, blending with the aroma of the food and the soft ambiance of the restaurant.

The third course, a succulent braised short rib served with creamy polenta and roasted vegetables, followed suit. Naomi’s eyes lit up as she cut into the tender meat, savoring each bite as if it were the last meal she’d ever enjoy.

“Baby’s loving this meal,” I chuckled, watching her delight.

“Absolutely,” she nodded, her face radiant with contentment.

As we progressed through each course—grilled sea bass with lemon butter sauce, a palate-cleansing sorbet, and a decadent chocolate lava cake for dessert—the evening unfolded like a symphony of flavors and emotions. Each dish was a testament to Marlon’s culinary expertise and his desire to make this night unforgettable for us.

By the time we reached the final course, a selection of artisanal cheeses paired with honey and fresh fruit, Naomi leaned back in her chair, her hand resting lightly on her stomach.

“I haven’t eaten this well since I left California,” she admitted, her eyes shimmering with gratitude.

“It’s not every day we get to celebrate like this,” I replied, reaching for her hand across the table once more. "Tonight's about us, about our future."

She squeezed my hand gently, her smile conveying a depth of understanding and love that words could barely capture as I looked into her eyes.

“This a forever thing, right?” I asked her, my voice tinged with hope and vulnerability. “You, me.”

“And the baby,” she chuckled softly, her eyes sparkling with affection.

“And the baby… maybe more one day,” I smiled, pushing my luck playfully.

“Slow down, let me get through this one first,” Naomi chuckled, her tone warm with amusement. But then, a shadow crossed her features, and she grew serious. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course,” I replied, concern flickering in my chest as I waited for her to speak.

Naomi took a deep breath, her fingers tracing absent patterns on the tablecloth. “I haven’t told you everything about my past.”

My heart skipped a beat, a mix of curiosity and worry flooding my senses. “You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not ready to share,” I assured her, my voice gentle yet firm.

She met my gaze, her eyes searching mine for understanding. “It’s about Jeffrey,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper.

The mention of Jeffrey sent a chill down my spine. I reached across the table, covering her hand with mine. “You’re safe now, Naomi. You’re both safe.”

“I know it’s just,” she looked down at the table, our intertwined hands capturing her attention before she met my gaze again, “what made me find the courage to leave him... I got pregnant.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. I held her hand tighter, my heart racing as I tried to process what she was saying.

“And it really woke me up, you know?” She continued, her voice tinged with pain and determination. “I couldn’t bear the thought of bringing a child into that darkness, Caleb. Not into his world of fear, violence and control. So, that night that I took the test in the bathroom, I ran. I left everything behind—swollen lip, house shoes, and all—and found refuge in a hotel with whatever cash I had so that he couldn’t trace my card. I made the hardest decision of my life to protect that unborn baby. But when I woke up the next morning, I just knew I wasn’t supposed to have that baby and be tied to that man for the rest of my life, so I…didn’t.”

I listened in silence, my mind reeling with emotions—pain for what she endured, admiration for her bravery, and a deepening love that defied words.

“Do you think I’m a bad person?” Her voice trembled, eyes searching mine for absolution.

“No, Naomi,” I said firmly, shaking my head. “You were in a dangerous situation, doing what you had to do to survive.”

She forced a smile, though the weight of her words hung heavy between us. “I’ve carried so much guilt over it. I never spoke of it, not to anyone. But now, here I am again, and this time, I know it’s different. It’s meant to be—us, together—but more than that, it’s about who I am now and who I want to become. Stronger. Braver.”

I reached for her other hand, now holding both firmly. “And I’ll walk every step of that journey with you, Naomi. No matter what.”

A flicker of relief crossed her eyes. “I know you will. I have no doubt you’ll be an incredible father, an amazing partner…”

“Your husband one day?” I interjected, hope bubbling up inside me.

Her smile widened, eyes shining with sincerity. “Yes, Caleb. I want to be your wife. One day soon.”

I absorbed her words, feeling them resonate deep within me. In that moment, I smiled, knowing we stood united, our hearts beating as one. Her past choices didn’t define her in my eyes; they only strengthened the resolve she now held. The woman before me was not just my dream; she was my very essence—the breath in my lungs, the beat of my heart, the life coursing through my veins. And now, as we embarked on this journey together, creating something beautiful, I knew deep down this was forever. She was my forever, a truth I’d always felt but struggled to voice until now.

"I've loved you from the start, you know that?" I asked softly, searching her eyes for affirmation.

"I've always known, and it terrified me," she admitted with a vulnerable smile.

"I know, I tried to hold back best I could, but Naomi, I knew you were mine the moment we met, and every day since has only made that clearer," I confessed, my voice tinged with longing.

"What scared me the most was how deeply I felt for you too, so soon. From our first night together, I saw something in your eyes..." she trailed off, remembering that undeniable connection."That one night stand just keeps giving," she laughed softly, a touch of nostalgia in her tone.

"And somewhere along the way we created a baby," I said quietly, still trying to wrap my mind around the miracle of it.

"We fucked a lot, Caleb," she corrected gently, meeting my gaze with affection, her lips curling into a teasing smile.

"And I plan on continuing that as soon as we get out of here," I said with a grin, leaning back in my chair. "You kept that sweet, wet, pretty pussy away from me for two whole months, Naomi."

I reminisced about the countless passionate moments we shared—how her touch felt against my skin, the melody of my name on her lips, the way her body surrendered to mine. In that instant, I bricked up; it had been far too long since I had been inside her.

"I'm going to have make up for it, aren't I?" she asked, her eyes dancing with anticipation.

"Yup," I replied, finishing the rest of my bourbon, my voice low and filled with desire. "I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you tonight."

Naomi's breath caught, her cheeks flushing slightly. "You don't have to hold back because of the baby," she whispered.

"I didn't plan to," I murmured, my gaze locked on her.