Dear Heart, I Hate You

Those texts quickly became a habit I couldn’t imagine ending anytime soon. To be honest, I couldn’t imagine anything with Cal ending anytime soon. If I had thought that this thing between us might fade away with time, I was sorely mistaken. It had been a few weeks since I left Boston, and my desire for him hadn’t faded. If anything, it had grown with each conversation we shared, each message we exchanged.

He’d even sent me flowers. I had been shocked to get them, the surprise written all over my face so much that my coworkers had teased me for days and begged for the details. They’d been around when Brandon had dumped me, so they were excited at a new prospect on the horizon for me.

Cal had grown on me so naturally that I found myself subconsciously counting on him in ways I hadn’t expected. Our connection grew out of us debriefing about our days and sharing our thoughts. Whenever something happened at work, I wanted to call him and tell him all about it. He always had great perspective and was willing to listen without seeming bored or irritated.

As much as I wanted to be surprised by his willingness to help me, I couldn’t be because I felt the same way when it came to hearing about his day and his career. I wanted him to succeed, and if I could help him in any way, I tried to do it.

The two of us brainstormed together about how I could reach more clients, and how he could grow his clientele. Cal pushed me in ways I never knew that I needed, helping me think outside the box and solve problems in simple ways that were only complicated because I’d over-thought them. He wanted me to be better, and he was excited about the goals I had for myself. It was such an unfamiliar feeling to be cheered on in this way, but it was also exhilarating.

“Thanks for your help, Jules.” Cal sounded genuinely appreciative about the advice I’d just given him for ways to bring in new business to his firm.

“Of course. You do the same thing for me all the time.” I snuggled deeper into my couch and pulled a blanket under my chin.

“I know. It’s just really nice to have someone in my corner who gets it.”

“I was thinking the same thing the other night. I’ve never had someone care about my success before,” I admitted.

It was true. I’d never dated someone who felt like a teammate or partner, and didn’t know I needed one. My ex-boyfriend Brandon definitely wasn’t on board with my workaholic tendencies, and didn’t want to hear about anything work related when we were together. You’re off the clock, Jules, he would say anytime I mentioned the dreaded four-letter word.

Brandon’s attitude had created so much tension in our relationship. I’d been excited about my growth in the company and wanted to share it with the one person who was supposed to love me the most and want me to succeed. Not only was he not interested, he made me think there was something wrong with me, when the truth was there was something wrong with him.

Cal made a noise of disbelief. “I don’t understand that. What about your ex?” he said, referring to a brief conversation we’d had about our exes.

“He hated when I talked about work.”

“How could any man hate that?”

“Maybe because he wasn’t as driven as I was. I never stopped, Cal. I was all work, all the time, no matter what day it was or what time it was. My brain never shut off.”

After being conditioned to believe I was weird for so long, I felt obligated to look at things from Brandon’s point of view, to imagine how he must have felt when he dated me. I definitely didn’t give him the amount of attention I’d devoted to my job, not by a long shot. Maybe a man could only tolerate something like that for so long.

Cal made a sound, something that was part grunt, part huff. “I think that for people like you and me, Jules, we can’t be with someone who isn’t as driven as we are. It would never work.”

“Why do you think I don’t date?” I said with a laugh.

For as open and honest as we were with each other, there were certain topics I was still too nervous to broach with Cal, and his feelings for me was one of them. I was scared it was too soon to talk about feelings, especially since we’d only spent one weekend together.

“Because the guys in LA are idiots,” he said without missing a beat.

My cheeks burning at his compliment, I blurted, “Then the girls in Boston must be stupid too.”

Surely Cal knew he was a catch. Not that I wanted another woman to catch him anytime soon; at least, not until whatever this was between us had run its course. The thought of him dating someone else made my stomach churn.

When he let out a big laugh that ended in a yawn, I glanced at my mantel clock, noting it was well past midnight his time.

“I don’t want to let you go,” he said, “but I probably should.”

“I know. It’s late. Thanks for everything tonight. I feel like we should get matching baseball jerseys or something.”

“Team Success,” he suggested, and I laughed.

“I like the way you think.”

“You should. It’s the same way you think.”

Touché, Cal Donovan. Touché.

“All right,” I said as I threw off my blanket and sat up. “Go to bed. You’re so distracting. I haven’t even worked out yet.”