Page 37 of Love is Grand
“I’m texting my assistant now,” he said, “and having him book me a flight for tomorrow. I’m coming to see you and hear our baby. Then I want to have a different discussion with you, one where I make you happy.”
“You can’t just come here.”
“Yes, I can. Also, pack a bag or something. You’ll spend a few days with me at the Grand.”
“But Weezie ...”
“She’ll come too. I’ll get a suite for us. She’ll love it.”
Reeling, I thought, Wow, this came out of nowhere.
“We’re not staying in a hotel with you, Cal. That’s not appropriate.”
“See you tomorrow. Can you book the doctor for us?”
A frustrated growl came from me and through the phone.
“Shell? Are you okay?”
“No. No, I’m not.”
“Well, call your mom? Do you need to see a doctor?”
“Cal,” I said before blowing out a long breath. “Stop this. I’m having whiplash from you. You want to send me money, then your brother says you’re too scared to call, so I call. Then you’re booking vacations with me and my daughter. I can’t do things like this. I have to work this week. Weezie has school. You have to work. In New York.”
My words came out in choppy sentences, my lungs having trouble getting the air out and back in.
“You should quit your job,” he said matter-of-factly. “How will you take care of the baby?”
Another growl came from me.
“I take it you don’t like that idea,” he said.
“What makes you think that?” I spat out.
At this point, I was pacing my bedroom.
“Caleb,” I said, trying to calm down and get him to focus. “Listen. We’re having a baby. If you want to be a part of the baby’s life, I won’t stop you, but—”
Interrupting me before I could add that he couldn’t take over my life, he said, “Good. I’ll see you tomorrow, and we can go to the doctor.”
I tried to assert myself again, but Cal insisted he had to go because he was booking the flight his assistant sent over.
Falling back on my bed, I closed my eyes and wished that had gone differently. Ricky might be a deadbeat, but Cal was bossy, confusing, and infuriating.
Shell
I spent the next morning delivering beans for my dad. After that, I went to the Grand first in an effort to avoid the dad-to-be, who was soon to be checking in, and then ran by the Ritz and stopped at a few restaurants.
I always spent a few minutes talking to the manager, asking how they liked certain blends, what other types of beverage products they were using, and if they had any constructive feedback. I’d been hearing a lot about flavored beans, and I knew my dad wasn’t going to go for it, so I’d started researching syrups.
I hadn’t brought up the idea to my dad because I wanted to have a plan before I decided to quit waitressing.
A small spark had formed inside me for a branded line of syrups called Island Girl Flavors. It was a pipe dream, but I had to think of a life where I didn’t wait tables and could afford to keep my children fed. The syrups could be added to coffees, creamers, or espresso drinks. I had some experience with making simple sugar, and I was studying how to add flavor correctly. I also knew I could ask Rylan or Teddi to help me with some mixology.
The problem was capital. I didn’t have any.
I was so deep in thought about a special coconut syrup that I didn’t notice who was standing in Island Coffee when I blew through the door.