Dirty Little Secrets (Dirty Little #1)(52)

I never could’ve imagined that I’d meet and fall in love with a wonderful man who would change my life in so many ways, and give me a future I didn’t think I would have the last time I was in this apartment. So, I’m glad he’s here with me now, standing by my side as I take some time to decide what exactly I’m going to do with that future.

The first thing we did upon arrival was make a stop at my mailbox, where over a month’s worth of junk was piled up inside. Caleb’s holding it all in the crook of his right arm, and our bags are slung over his left.

“You can put that over there on the table,” I tell him, pointing to my left. “Sorry, it’s…it’s kind of sparse in here.” I take a step into the living area, which is the complete opposite the lush apartment that Caleb has in New York. This whole place is about half the size of his bedroom, and that’s being generous.

I lost almost everything I owned in the explosion, and I rented this studio a week after, when I was tired of sleeping on Marcus’s couch. I was living my life in a daze back then, still grieving, still unbelieving. I never bothered to put up any pictures on the wall, and barely even decorated the place. I didn’t ever think of it as “home” so much as a temporary resting place. Seems like that’s exactly what it turned out to be.

All I have in here is a bed, a comfy chair I picked up at a thrift store, and an old bookshelf filled with my favorite books that I had replaced at a secondhand bookstore. I walk over to the window, and slide my fingertips across the arms of that old chair. I spent a lot of time curled up in this thing. Sometimes I was hard at work, laptop balanced precariously on my lap. Sometimes I was reading, curled up with a blanket and a good book, hoping I could forget about life for a while. Sometimes I just sat down and cried.

The air is a little stuffy, because the place doesn’t have central air, and the windows have been shut ever since I left. There’s just a musty, un-lived in smell, and I’m grateful that I had the presence of mind to throw away all of my food before I left. Otherwise, this place would be unbearable.

I turn to Caleb, who’s standing next to my bed. He’s looking around with this small smile on his face, like he knows something that I don’t.

“What?” I ask, amused. “What’s that look for?”

Caleb shrugs, and takes a step toward me. “This place is very you.”

“It’s not even decorated, Caleb. Anyone could live here.”

“No, not anyone. This,” he says, bending down and sliding his fingers across the blanket at the end of my bed. “You wear this color a lot. And your pillows…” He points out the way they’re tossed on the bed, two to rest my head on and one behind me. “You sleep like that, even with me.” He lifts up one of the pillows, and smiles when he finds a pair of pajamas folded underneath. “You do this at home, too.”

I don’t miss his mention of “home,” like it’s there in New York, not here in this tiny apartment hundreds of miles away from the life that we’re building together.

“Those are books that you want to read, but haven’t gotten to yet,” he says, pointing at the small stack next to the chair. “Just like you have at home. There are a couple of the same books here.”

The look on my face must convey what I’m feeling at the moment: complete shock. “You notice all of that?”

Caleb closes the distance between us, then leans down and gives me a kiss. “I notice a lot of things about you.”

I caress his cheek. “Why don’t you have a seat? I should go through all of this mail.”

Caleb nods, then lowers himself onto my chair. He leans forward, and starts thumbing through the books on my shelf. I’m struck by the sight of him here, surprised that he doesn’t seem out of place at all. I mean, there’s something about Caleb that exudes wealth, and he still looks right sitting on my second hand chair, looking through my secondhand books. I fit right into his world, too.


Something about that realization strikes me hard in the chest.

“Mia?”

“Yeah?”

“C’mere,” he says softly. When he asks like that, I can’t help but comply.

I walk over, and sit down on his lap, then swing my legs over the arms of the chair. Caleb wraps his arm around my back, and places a hand on my knee, rubbing small circles across the skin there with his thumb.

“Tell me what you’re thinking?” he asks, before pressing a kiss to my temple.

I take a deep breath, then tell him, “I’m thinking that this is a little surreal.”

“How so?”

“I…I’m just not sure how I ended up here. It seems a little too good to be true.”

“Well,” he replies with a teasing lilt in his voice. “We got on a plane and flew.”

I reach up and scrub my hand across his stubbly cheek, and laugh. This man, he makes me happy. Happier than I’ve been in my entire life, actually. He lit the spark inside of me that seemed to burn out after my father died.

“When I left here, I thought I wouldn’t ever come back. Well…not under any good circumstances, at least. I didn’t think I’d see this place again, and when I met you, I just…I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. I was sure that when you found out about what I’d done you wouldn’t want anything to do with me. You’ve been so wonderful and supportive, and it’s more than I ever could’ve dared to hope for. And now, I have the choice between two lives. I never thought…” I trail off at the end, because I’m afraid I’m going to start crying. This is a happy sentiment; I don’t want to ruin it with tears.