Page 151 of Broken Destiny

No reply or acknowledgement.

Not even a single line to show that he cared enough to answer.

Did he hate me that much?

After Elle and her family left, Harper came over, and we spent the evening reminiscing. We drank too much, and he ended up sleeping on the couch.

He left early in the morning shortly after the children woke up, saying he needed to get to work.

By then, my frustration over not hearing from Caleb had already started wearing thin.

By the time I finished breakfast with Lucas and Emma, the hotel room had fallen quiet again when a knock suddenly sounded at the door.

Caleb.

My heart raced wildly.

I wiped my hands quickly on a napkin and hurried toward the door, pulling in slow breaths, bracing for the man I hoped to see on the other side.

This was it.

He had finally come.

I opened the door.

Harper.

The hope inside me collapsed like a house of cards.

“I decided to take the day off,” he said as he stepped inside, placing a quick kiss on my cheek. “I thought I’d take the kids and you to the beach and then to the park for a picnic. What do you say, kids?”

His enthusiasm filled the room, but my thoughts stayed fixed on the door I had just opened—and the man who hadn’t been standing there.

“But Caleb is coming to spend the day with us,” Lucas announced as he walked toward us.

My head snapped toward him.

“Caleb?” I repeated, turning fully to face my son. “When did you speak to him? When did this happen?”

“Last night when you were in the shower,” he said. “He called on the hotel phone.”

I cursed under my breath.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Lucas?” The words came out loud.

I had been waiting for that call. Watching my phone like it held the answer to my future. And all along, he had already reached out.

My body stiffened.

“I was going to tell you when you came out,” Lucas said quietly, lowering his gaze to the floor. “But you were talking to Aunty Elle after your shower, and then I forgot.”

His small voice pierced straight through my irritation.

This wasn’t his fault. How could he possibly understand how much that call meant to me?

I walked over to him and knelt.

“I’m sorry I raised my voice,” I said gently, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “I wish you had told me, sweetheart, but I know you didn’t forget on purpose.”