Chapter 5 - A PROMISE WRITTEN ON A NAPKIN
Caleb returned three days later.
I was closing the shop.
He stood outside holding two paper cups.
“Coffee?”
I looked at him.
“Is this how billionaires flirt?”
He smiled.
“Usually there's a helicopter.”
I laughed.
He handed me a cup.
We sat on the front steps.
The evening was cool.
Traffic moved along the street.
For a while, we talked about watches.
Then books.
Then Louisville.
Caleb listened more than he spoke.
Finally, he looked at me.
“Did you keep the list?”
I froze.
“What list?”
He smiled.
“The ten requirements.”
I stared.
Then laughed.
“You remember?”
“Every word.”
I looked down.
“That's embarrassing.”
“No.”
His expression softened.
“It's honest.”
I pulled the folded napkin from my handbag.
He stared.
“You really kept it.”
I smiled.
“It's a good list.”
He nodded.
“May I see it?”
I hesitated.
Then handed it to him.
Caleb unfolded the napkin.
Read the rules.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Then looked up.
“Number five.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“He can cook one actual meal.”
I laughed.
“Can you?”
He smiled.
“Lasagna.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“From scratch?”
“Yes.”
“Suspicious.”
He chuckled.
Then looked at rule number eight.
He tells me the ugly truth instead of the beautiful lie.
His expression changed.
For a moment, he looked almost sad.
Then he folded the napkin.
Handed it back.
And said quietly:
“Nora, if I ever ask you to trust me, I want you to remember that rule.”
My heart tightened.
“Why?”
He looked toward the street.
May you like
Then answered:
“Because there are things about me you may not like.”
