Stay With Me (22 page)

“Oh, and one more thing.” Caleb holds up a black tie. “You need to put this over your eyes.”

I give him a look. “And how exactly am I going to get downstairs?”

“I’ll help you with that.”

“Fine,” I say, heaving out a sigh. “Let me put on my jacket and gloves first. And I’ll need you to help me with the tie.”

Caleb moves behind me and slips the black tie over my eyes and knots it in the back. “Can you see anything?”

“Nothing.”

“Okay. Good. Here, I’ll hold onto your hand and lead you downstairs.”

He does so, and I’m wondering why exactly he’s doing this . . . and what he has in store.

We reach the entranceway, and Caleb opens up the front door slightly. A cold blast of air sweeps in, and I shiver but step outside with him. The roof edges over the front of the house so we’re still covered, but it’s windy and cold, and my teeth chatter together.

“One more step,” he says.

I step off the small stoop and my boot makes a crunchy sound on the ground. I pause. Something cold and wet hits my nose. I blink behind the tie.

Caleb steps behind me, removing the tie.

I blink again, opening my eyes.

White.

So much white.

Snow has blanketed the streets, covering the houses, and snowflakes fall steadily.

“First snowfall,” Caleb says. “I know you’ve probably seen snow before . . .”

“Not like this,” I say, smiling wide. “Not with you.”

It’s my first Vermont snowfall. And we’re the only ones outside. The only ones here, as the snow falls.

Caleb points to his covered car. “This will take me a few to clean off, but . . .”

I see two sleds leaning against the car. My smile widens.

“Sledding?” I can’t help the excitement spreading through me. I don’t think I’ve ever been sledding down a
real
hill before . . . or even in a
real
snowstorm. There was a snow episode on the TV show I was on, but that was filmed in a Hollywood studio, and the snow was fake. And I had to act like it was real, that I was cold, that the hill was huge and scary.

I don’t have to pretend now.

I stretch my arms wide, sideways, and then spin in the driveway, catching snowflakes on my tongue. Flakes kiss my eyelashes, and then suddenly Caleb is sweeping me in his arms, dipping me backward, and his lips are cold against mine, but we soon warm each other up.

We break apart, laughing.

Caleb hurriedly cleans off his windshield in a few minutes, and his car is freezing inside. He turns up the heat and then drives away. We don’t drive long; Caleb parks in a parking lot and points to a huge hill straight ahead. He grabs the two wooden sleds and we trudge up to the hill. No one else is up there but us. The hill is steep, and there’s a wide pathway between massive barren trees and pines. Lake Champlain is in the distance, and I see that it’s starting to freeze over.

“Do people ever ice skate on the lake?”

“Some, but only a certain section. Most stick to ponds, and there’s a nearby ice skating rink.” Caleb puts both wooden sleds down, then looks over at me. “Wanna race?”

“What’s the prize?”

“Hmmm.” Caleb presses his mouth together, scrunching up his forehead, like he’s trying to think about it. “A kiss?”

“You’re on.”

I get on one sled; Caleb takes the other. He points to where the pathway starts to curve into two. “First one who crosses that wins.”

“Deal.”

“On three,” he says. “One . . .”

I poise, readying myself.

“Two . . .”

And he’s off.

“You cheater!” I yell after him.

“Three,” he yells back, laughing.

I push off, and I’m flying down the hill. My stomach drops out of me, and I let out a delighted whoop of joy. The wind whips my face, tears sting my eyes, and my cheeks burn with cold. Snow flies, whooshing this way and that. Caleb is ahead of me, but maybe if I lower down, I can pick up more speed and pass him.

Oh God.
I thought I was going fast before, but I’m going super fast right now. Caleb senses me behind him, and he does something to pull ahead, crossing over the finish line first.

I follow soon after and skid to a stop. My heart races, and I shake the snow off me as best as I can.

“You are such a cheater,” I say, glaring over at him.

Caleb laughs, getting off his sled, and runs over to me. “I don’t play fair.”

Before I can say anything else, his mouth is on mine. Like snowflakes landing on my skin, his lips land on mine. Soft. Tender. Gentle.

He lifts his head, his green eyes glinting. “Rematch?”

“Definitely.”

I wise up the second time and am ready for him to cheat. Again.

And we both race down on the “Two!”

“Hey,” he says. “You’re cheating!”

“Learned from the best,” I shout as I zip past him.

I easily win the second race and wait as he gets to the bottom. I lean down, kiss him hard. “Again?”

“Again.”

This time we race up the hill. We don’t even bother with a countdown, but just get on our sleds, look over at one another, and then fly down the hill.

Caleb wins. By a nose.

I get off my sled, and he presses me against a tree, kissing me deep, his tongue sliding against mine. I’m dazed and breathless when he pulls back.

“Race you,” he says, then takes off for the hill.

“You dirty kisser!” I yell after him, chasing him.

I lay on my stomach on the sled, gain even more speed, and zip by him. I am oh so mature and flip him off as he glances over at me, his eyes wide. That’ll teach him.

I win. By a lot.

And as soon as he gets over the finish line, I run to him, flattening him to the sled with my body, thread my fingers through his hair, and then . . .

Give him the briefest kiss that could win the Guinness World Record for shortest kiss.

It’s not even a pause of a kiss.

I push off him before he can lengthen the kiss, and start up the hill.

“That was so not a kiss,” Caleb says after me.

“That’s what you get when you kiss me to distraction.”

“Still not fair.”

I wait until he gets to the top of the hill. “Let’s play fair this time. No cheating on both our ends. Deal?”

I hold out my glove-covered hand to his.

“Deal,” he says, shaking it.

The time we both hit the finish line at the same time.

We don’t say anything. Just look at each other.

Caleb takes a step toward me. I take one to him. He smiles at me, and I feel a grin splitting my face wide.

And then we’re running to each other, our boots leaving footprints in the snow. His arms tighten around my waist, lifting me, and then he spins us around. I laugh, grasping his shoulders, and then he stops, slowly letting me down to the snowy ground.

Caleb takes off his gloves, brushing melting snowflakes off my face.

“Hailey,” he says softly, his gaze tender on mine.

He kisses me, and the snow continues to fall around us.

W
E SPEND THE REST OF
the weekend holed up in my apartment. Daphne texts Caleb early Sunday to let him know their father will bring her back. Caleb snuggles against me under the covers.

“Good,” he whispers, his breath ruffling my hair. “We can just spend the day together.”

“We’ve spent the last few days together,” I point out. “Alone.”

“Yeah. I know. It’s been great.” Caleb kisses me. “Now, let me sleep, you insatiable woman.”

“I’m not the one who woke someone up this morning to have sex.”

“Complaining?”

“Hell no.”

“Thought so.” Caleb closes his eyes. “I like this. Being with you.”

I don’t say anything, but I do too.

Chapter 27

E
ARLY MONDAY MORNING, CALEB IS IN
the shower. I’m already dressed and ready, making eggs and bacon for breakfast when my cell rings.

I don’t glance down at the number when I answer it.

“Hey,” I say.

“Hailey,” a voice says.

A very familiar voice.

A voice I haven’t heard since our huge fight.

My former best friend, famous movie actor and the current Sexiest Man Alive, Alex Randall. He never responded to those texts I’d sent, so I thought our friendship was truly over.

“Hailey,” Alex says, his voice a rich baritone. “You there?”

I grip the cell. “Yes.”

“I know we haven’t talked in a while . . .”

“It’s been over six months.” I stir the scrambled eggs. “Why are you calling me?”

“I missed you.”

I snort disbelievingly. “Then why didn’t you answer my texts?”

“No, I really do miss you. And . . . I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t respond. I guess I was still mad at you. I was stupid. A dick. An asshole.”

“You were.”

“I know.” Alex pauses. “Hailey, we were always there for each other. You were there for me when you texted me. You were my best friend. Still are, if I didn’t fuck it up too much.”

“Alex, what’s this about? I have class in an hour and—”

“So you’re still doing that?”

I put the eggs on two plates and let out an aggravated breath.

“Yes,” I say sharply. “I’m still doing
that
.”

“That’s great. Really great. I mean that. You were always smart. Are smart,” he says in a rush, tripping over his words.

I frown at the cell. Alex is many things, but nervous is not one of them. “What’s going on, Alex?”

“I told you. I missed you. And . . .” Alex takes a deep breath. “I’m in New York right now.”

“I thought you were still filming in New Zealand.”

“I am, but I have to do the press tour for another movie. You know how it goes.”

“Yeah.”

“But I’m sitting here in my dressing room at one of the morning shows. Don’t ask me which one. I can’t keep them straight at this point.” Alex laughs ruefully.

“You were always horrible with names.”

“Still am. But I’m here . . . and I just saw your mother walk by.”

I drop a small piece of bacon onto the floor, and Goliath snaps it up.

“Oh,” I say casually. “Well, Lorraine does love the talk show circuit.”

“Hailey, she didn’t see me, but I overheard her talking in the hallway.” Alex pauses. “She’s going to talk about you. About
everything
.”

“No,” I whisper brokenly. “She wouldn’t.”

“She is,” Alex says. “I would’ve called sooner had I known earlier. I called as soon as I did. I know I fucked up, but, Hailey, I can’t lose you as a friend. You’re the only one who sticks by me.”

I can’t even get over what Alex has told me. “Alex, we can talk about that later. But . . . are you sure? About my mother, I mean?”

“Positive. She’s walking on to set right now.” My former best friend takes a deep breath. “You might want to turn on the TV . . . or you might want to stay away.”

“No, I’ll turn it on. I need to hear this for myself.” To see how low my mother will sink to. To see my life explode. And to make it even worse, Caleb is going to see it, too. And hate me.

“I just thought . . . I would want to know before shit hit the fan.”

“Thanks, Alex. You didn’t have to call.” I close my eyes, feeling the ground shift beneath my feet. “We’ll talk. Later. Some other time.”

I hang up the phone after Alex finds out what show it is, and then I turn off the stove, leaving the bacon sizzling in the skillet and the eggs on the two plates.

It feels like I’m walking in slow motion as I enter the living room area and turn on the TV, finding the channel. It’s still on commercial break, and Caleb walks out, rubbing his hair with a towel, jeans on but still shirtless.

He sees my face. “What’s wrong?”

“I have to tell you something,” I say, my heart heavy. “Something bad.”

“What is it?”

I twist my hands together. “You’re going to hate me.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Oh, I do.” I laugh brokenly. “I—I—”

The program comes back on, and a journalist—a middle-aged black man—is sitting across frpm my mother. Bold, brassy blonde hair swinging low to her waist, wide blue eyes, and wearing a Chanel dress, my mother is cool, elegant, and beautiful.

“We’re here with Lorraine Bloom,” the journalist says.

“Your mother?”

I nod and sit on the couch, numb.

“And Lorraine is here to give us an exclusive. Is it true you’re shopping another book?”

My mother smiles demurely, her soft pink lips curving. “I am, Tom. My agent has a lot of interest in the pages, and I’m hoping I’ll be able to announce a deal very soon.”

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you,” the reporter says. “But how have you been, Lorraine?”

Her smile disappears. “Not good, Tom. It’s been difficult for me.”

“You’re referring to the estrangement with your daughter, Hailey Bloom.”

“Yes.” My mother’s eyes water. “Excuse me,” she says, sniffling. “Can I have a tissue?”

The journalist obliges her. “I’m sorry to bring up such a sore subject. But do you have any hope to reconcile with her?”

“I don’t know, Tom. That’s up to Hailey. I’ve tried making contact with her.”

I snort. She hasn’t done anything of the sort. But my mother has always been a master manipulator.

“Some say you’re to blame for what happened, Lorraine. There are rumors that you weren’t happy when Hailey expressed interest in going to college.”

“I just want Hailey to be happy.”

Happy doing what she wanted me to do.

“But Hailey does what Hailey wamts,” she continues, “She always has. I begged her for years to stop acting and singing. Told her she didn’t have to do everything that came her way. That it would be okay.”

The journalist perks up, his body leaning forward in interest. “What do you mean?”

“My daughter . . .” Lorraine pauses dramatically, looking right at the camera. “Had an abortion.”

The world spins around me, and everything blurs.

“She had an abortion,” she answers to a question I didn’t hear, “because she wanted to keep being famous. A baby would ruin that for her. It would ruin her standing. And, well, it wouldn’t have looked good anyway, as the father was a married producer.”

The remote control is taken out of my hands and the TV is turned off.