The week passed by in a blur of meetings, phone calls, and endless emails. Caleb kept himself busy like always, throwing himself into work that left little room for other things. He did his best to ignore the gnawing feeling of something wrong in his life, specifically in his relationship, just for today.
This day was supposed to be special. He made sure to clear his schedule and to keep his mother occupied so no one would disturb him and Isabelle.
He made plans—romantic plans, to be exact.
Caleb glanced at his watch again for what felt like the hundredth time. 7:15 p.m.
He waited for Isabelle in their favorite restaurant, the candles lit, and a bottle of expensive, rare wine sat unopened in the center. The soft hum of conversation reached his ears, but all he could hear was the ticking of his own impatience.
He planned this dinner date for days on end. Caleb personally made sure everything was perfect. Today was their anniversary, one year since Isabelle became his girlfriend. 365 days since they started their whirlwind relationship that had been equally exhilarating and exhausting.
Caleb exhaled and pulled out his phone, scrolling through his chats. Nope, nothing from Isabelle. Not even a how are you or a hi.
He dialed her number, and frankly, he had lost count of how many times he called her. Impatiently, he tapped his fingers on the edge of the table as the phone rang and rang. Finally, Isabelle picked up, but there was a lot of background noise.
Where is she? He thought.
"Caleb?" she answered, sounding slightly out of breath. "Sorry, I can't really talk right now."
"Where are you?" Caleb asked, trying to keep his voice steady, though the frustration was slowly eating at him. "I've been waiting for you at the restaurant for almost an hour."
Isabelle's pause on the other end was telling. "Oh, I'm not in the city, Caleb. I had to fly out for a last-minute performance in Paris." Her tone was casual, as if she didn't know that today's their first year anniversary.
Caleb's grip on the phone tightened. "Paris? Isabelle, tonight is our anniversary. You never mentioned anything about leaving the country."
There was another pause, and then Isabelle's voice came back, softer this time. "Oh, Caleb, I'm really sorry. I completely forgot. Things have been so hectic with the rehearsals... I didn't even realize what day it was."
Her words hit him like a bullet shot directed at his heart. His mind and heart couldn't wrap around the idea that she forgot.
She forgot their anniversary. Forgot the plans he spent weeks making.
Caleb leaned back in his chair, staring blankly at the flickering candle in front of him. He took a deep breath, composing himself.
"Right," he muttered, his voice thick with disappointment. "I guess I'll just cancel the reservation then."
"Caleb, I'm really sorry," Isabelle apologized, though her tone lacked the urgency he wanted to hear. "I'll make it up to you. We'll do something when I get back, okay?"
But Caleb couldn't respond. His throat felt tight as if a giant's hand were squeezing it. Without another word, he hung up and set his phone down on the table. Her favorite wine in front of him seemed like a cruel joke. He didn't even like this shit.
He sat there for a long moment, staring at the empty seat across from him as the frustration ate at his very core. Isabelle had always been busy, and so was he.
He accepted it and even admired her dedication to her career. Caleb wasn't the perfect boyfriend, but he would like to think that he showed up when it matters. But this? Forgetting their anniversary entirely? It stung in a way he hadn't expected.
Finally, Caleb stood, his movements slow and deliberate. He tossed enough cash on the table to cover the untouched meal and left the restaurant. The cool night air hit him as soon as he was out. With no particular direction to go to, he just walked and walked.
He needed a drink. Something stronger than wine.
---
Two hours later, Caleb sat at the bar of a hotel lounge, a half-empty glass of whiskey in front of him. He tried to drown his thoughts in the alcohol, but it didn't work. His frustration refused to go away, building bigger and bigger. Now, anger joins in too.
He didn't want to be furious at Isabelle. She had her career, and he had his. They were both busy people. But tonight, it felt so much that he was coming in second place.
Again. Always. Why the hell was he always an option?
The whiskey burned his throat so good as it went down, but it wasn't enough to dull the edge. He needed something—or someone.
He just wanted to be needed. To be first place. To be the only one.
Without thinking, Caleb pulled out his phone from his pocket and scrolled to Bailey's contact. He pressed the call button.
It rang twice before she picked up.
"What were you doing? Why didn't you pick it up immediately?"He slurred, questioning her. Was she with someone? Who?
"Mr. Reid?" Bailey's voice came through, soft but alert. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"
It was late, and she was getting ready for bed. Bailey finished watching Queen of Tears, and she was in a good mood that it was a happy ending, although still bittersweet.
"Bailey," Caleb slurred slightly, rubbing a hand over his face. "I need you to come get me."
There was a pause on the other end, and Caleb could almost see the concern on her face when she replied in a worried tone, "Where are you?"
He glanced around, squinting at the dim surroundings. "The bar at the Rosewood Hotel. Can you... can you come?"
"I'll be there in ten minutes," Bailey replied, grabbing her jacket and car keys. She didn't ask any questions and didn't pry.
Caleb hung up and stared at his phone as his head spun slightly from the alcohol.
"Bailey," he murmured, a soft smile on his lips. There was at least one person that needed him: Bailey.
---
True to her word, Bailey arrived in under ten minutes. She found Caleb slumped against the bar counter, his expression distant, the glass of whiskey still in his hand.
"Mr. Reid," she called out softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Let's get you out of here."
Caleb glanced up, his vision slightly blurred. Even in the dim light of the bar, Bailey looked composed, her hair tied back in its usual tidy bun and her eyes steady as she met his.
She wore a simple sweater and jeans. Her clothes were casual, but she carried herself with the same professionalism she always did.
"Bailey," he chuckled, setting the glass down with a clink. "You always show up, don't you?"
She smiled gently, though there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. "Come on, let's get you home."
Bailey helped him up, slipping an arm around his waist to steady him as they walked out of the hotel. Caleb leaned on her more than he probably should, but she didn't complain. She guided him outside to her car.
The ride to Caleb's apartment was quiet, save for the occasional sound of other cars passing by. Caleb's thoughts were a jumbled mess as the alcohol made everything hazy.
When they reached his apartment, Bailey helped him inside and put him on the couch. Caleb slumped down, his head resting against the back of it as he closed his eyes.
"Thank you," he muttered, his voice barely audible.
"You don't need to thank me," Bailey whispered as she took a deep breath. Her eyes roamed all over him, and she felt this agonizing pain on her chest. She didn't know what happened, but it hurt Caleb, enough for him to be this wasted.
Bailey was aware that today was Caleb and Isabelle's anniversary. What went wrong?
She clenched and unclenched her palms as she organized her thoughts and let out a deep breath.
Then she kneeled in front of him, unbuttoning his jacket and helping him out of it. Her movements were careful and gentle, but there was something in the way her hands lingered just a little longer than necessary.
Caleb's eyes fluttered open, and he looked down at her, his vision still slightly blurry. "You always take care of me, don't you?"
Bailey didn't meet his gaze, her focus on his jacket as she folded it neatly. "That's my job."
"No," Caleb denied, his voice rough. "It's more than that."
He reached out, his hand held her arm, and for a second Bailey froze. Her heart pounded in her chest, but her expression didn't betray her feelings. Her face was neutral.
Even if he was drunk, she couldn't let him see how much he affected her. She couldn't let him know how she felt.
"Caleb," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "You should get some rest. You're... you've had too much to drink."
But Caleb didn't let go. Instead, he pulled her closer, his eyes searching hers. "You're always there for me, Bailey. Always. Do you need me?"
Bailey's breath caught in her throat as his words hit her. She had been there for him—for five years, she had been by his side, handling everything, making sure his life stayed on track.
She needed him, too. He was her light in the darkness. The ray of sunshine that filtered through the depths of her soul.
"Caleb," she started, but before she could say more, his hand moved to her cheek, his thumb brushing against her skin. The touch was gentle, but it sent a shiver down her spine.
And then, before she could stop it, Caleb leaned in and kissed her.
Bailey froze, and everything around them faded along with her thoughts. Against her better judgment, she kissed him back. His lips were so warm against hers; it felt so good. Her body trembled in ecstasy as if it had received a lifesaving grace.
For so long, she ached for him. The feelings she tried so hard to bury sprouted, and the walls around her heart crashed down.
But just as quickly as it started, it all fell apart.
Caleb pulled back slightly, his eyes glazed and unfocused. "Isabelle," he murmured, his voice thick with confusion. "Isabelle..."
Bailey's heart shattered into a million pieces in that instant. Immediately she pushed him away with her trembling hands and stood up.
Caleb didn't notice. His head lolled back against the couch, his eyes closing as he mumbled something unintelligible.
Bailey stood there for what felt like hours, staring down at him as her heart broke to pieces. Caleb wasn't hers to claim. This was so wrong, but she still went for it.
With a deep breath, Bailey turned and quietly gathered her things. She couldn't stay any longer.
She walked briskly to the door and closed it softly behind her. As if timed, her tears began to fall. Each drop felt heavier than the last. She covered her mouth, choking a sob that threatened to burst out of her.
Caleb wouldn't remember their kiss or the way Bailey took care of him tonight. He wouldn't remember calling her by the wrong name.
But she would carry this memory and pain forever.