Last Chance

un

i.

Far from the eye, away from the heart.

That's what Caleb Breland told himself seven years ago while leaving the past behind and never looking back. What he repeated like a mantra seven years later when that same past started catching up to him. What he couldn't bring himself to believe seven minutes after he strode into a party already in full swing and saw her.

Caleb didn't know why, or how, but it was happening. Like really happening, by luck, coincidence.

Fate.

But she was standing there, of all people, spine straight and lifting a glass to her lips. Her face was cast into shadow but he'd recognize those high cheekbones and long, slim legs anywhere.

Though it wasn't instantaneous. Really, a series of events had led up to that moment and telling it like that would be putting the cart before the horse. So, truthfully, it began like this.

Valet had just fetched his cabriolet out front and another bloke gave his elbow out for his peacoat once he entered the venue. Caleb moved his mouth into what felt like a wooden smile, shrugging the wool fabric off his back before thanking the good man.

"You have a good night, sir."

"And you," he said but really, it's just idle chat. He's getting paid by the hour and can drink on the job, so it's hard for Caleb to imagine him having anything but.

Breezing by him, he started to fix the cuff links of his white dress shirt. Admittedly, he's feeling slightly self-conscious. Donned in nothing but work-worn trousers and leather steel slip-on boots, he's mildly underdressed. At least that's what Penelope Kavanagh would attest. "This is a black tie event, Breland," he could picture her saying, "not some second-tier gala!"

Fortunately for him, his mentor was the one whom was orchestrating this entire event for her stepdaughter that'd finally arrived back home after taking off to Ireland several years ago. It occurred to him that maybe he wasn't the only one that was running towards the past.

He'd known Delilah through internships and common workplaces until she had a career change and followed a different path. Years had gone by before he'd caught wind that she'd gotten engaged and moved to Western Europe, though it never truly affected him.

They got on like oil and water. A difference of personalities was what wedged them apart but it was their young and self-righteous egos that had kept them at arm's length. Though with time and age, Caleb started to adopt the philosophy that the only way to get over the past was to get through it.

And perhaps that's why it's simpler for him to get a drink from the bar—especially after noticing who just walked into the room—instead of navigating towards his designated table and exchanging niceties with the crowd that'd froth around him. After some incessant probing, he had finally gotten his boss to tip who he'd be rubbing elbows with; a bunch of hot-shot socialites and waiting-to-be-scandals.

He'd asked Penelope why she had painted him into that corner and if there'd been a purpose behind it (a business move that could give way to more opportunities – Caleb's always been ace at schmoozing.) But she simply said that it was a favour for someone else. Fruitlessly, he tried to squeeze that out of her too but she remained incredibly tight-lipped afterwards.