Stuck With the Grumpy Single Dad

17. Chapter Sixteen Mabel

Chapter Sixteen: Mabel

I ’ve never been good at holding things back.

And I can’t just sit around in Mermaid Shores pretending like I don’t know the truth.

I can’t let things like this fester. It’s not in my nature. I like to face life head-on, because there’s no other way to deal with the difficult stuff than to simply plow right through it.

Not to mention, I’ve been practically useless at the Siren & Sword. It’s not just Liam that’s commented on my strange, spacey behavior recently. Vicki and Joshie and Roy have all noticed. Even sweet Laura timidly asked me if I was feeling okay.

It’s a small blessing that my mom has been too busy with a massive celebrity wedding taking place at Blakeley Manor for her to be paying too much attention to me, but I know that my dad suspected something was going on when I stopped by for a quick coffee before work yesterday .

Basically, it’s starting to affect the most normal, stable aspects of my life. I can’t have that. I can’t just wait for the problem to fade away because, clearly, Matt Morgan and his girls are here to stay.

So, here I am, standing on the porch of this beautiful, crumbling manor, feeling like I’ve stumbled into some alternate universe where everything looks familiar but feels completely wrong.

Matt—goodness, it’s Cal —is staring at me from the threshold, his ice-blue eyes wide and his broad shoulders tense. My racing heart feels like it might burst right out of my chest and take off toward the moon.

We’ve already said hi . Twice. He’s already asked me what I’m doing here.

And now I’ve called him Cal to his face, and he’s not denying it.

Really, there’s no going back now.

Still, I hesitate. I glance down at my sneakers, caked in dirt from years of running around this sandy town. I should’ve changed my shoes. I should’ve prepared better for this conversation, maybe rehearsed something on the drive over here. Goodness knows that I’ve been having imaginary conversations with this man in my head for days now. Why aren’t any of those words coming out now?

It feels like a lifetime passes before I finally meet his eyes again. It’s weird, because I never really knew what Cal looked like, but as I gaze up at Matt, I can’t help but see the man I’ve poured my heart out to for nearly two decades. Somehow, everything about him makes sense. This is Cal. Even if it seems insane and impossible, I can’t shake this feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“Can I come in?” I ask, my voice so much quieter than it usually is.

Matt nods and steps aside to let me in. Even though the manor is in the middle of renovations, I see so much potential in the half-demolished, half-finished space. Is he really going to live here? In this too-big house? Just him and his daughters? Cal never struck me as the sort of man who’d want to roam around a massive mansion like that.

Then again, there’s obviously a lot about Cal that I never learned.

I follow him into the grand foyer, my eyes sweeping over the stripped-down walls, the chandelier that’s missing from the ceiling. It’s quiet in here, aside from the echo of our footsteps on the dull hardwood. The workers must have already finished up for the day, which is what I’d been hoping for. I really don’t want an audience for whatever is about to happen.

Matt crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against one of the exposed doorframes, his expression giving nothing away except for a raw wariness.

“I guess I should just come out with it,” I say, letting out a shaky breath. “I went to Maine this past weekend.”

His eyes widen even more, and yet he still doesn’t say anything. So, I keep going.

“I was looking for someone. Someone who—someone very special to me. I just—I mean, I know it was ridiculous, but—this certain someone sent me a letter, suggesting that we should meet for the first time in twenty years.” I pause, swallow the nerves bubbling up in my throat, and then continue. “I got it in my head that it might be a good idea to simply surprise him. After all, I had his address.”

More silence. His lips have parted in surprise, though. At least he’s offering me some small reaction.

At least he doesn’t look horrified or disgusted by the way this little story of mine is going.

“I had your address,” I tell him. “At first, I was confused. The house was empty. Nobody lived there.”

Matt lets out a slow exhale, visibly deflating. He shifts on his feet, then leans back against the bare wall underneath the stairwell .

“And I was going to just give up and leave,” I add. “I mean, maybe there was some kind of explanation that I could’ve come up with in my head to explain why the man I’ve been writing to for more than half my life doesn’t actually live at the address I’ve been sending all those letters to. But then one of your neighbors noticed me, pulled up on the side of the road, and asked me if I was looking for Matt Morgan.”

Matt sighs again, smoothing his palm down his face. He shakes his head, a gesture that seems aimed at himself rather than me.

“The neighbor said that ‘Matt and his girls’ moved a few weeks prior. And that’s when I started putting things together.”

For a long moment, he doesn’t answer. He simply stares at me. I almost wonder if he won’t say anything at all, that he’ll just let this awkward tension hang in the air forever, leaving me to fill in the blanks myself. Maybe he’ll pack up his things and speed out of town. Maybe I’ll never hear from him or Cal ever again.

Except, then, he speaks.

“My middle name is Callum,” he murmurs. “Matthew Callum Morgan. You—you’re the only person I’ve ever tried out that nickname with. It was a random decision, but one that stuck. But, yes. I am Cal, and I know that you are Maple Leaf.”

It feels like the floor drops out from beneath me. I had an inkling he might already know who I actually am, what with how he’s not growling and grumbling at me for once. But, still… if he knows, was he planning on ever confronting me about it? If I hadn’t come here today, would he have carried that knowledge in secret?

“How did you figure it out?” I ask.

Matt shifts uncomfortably, running a hand through his dark hair. “I came to find you over the weekend, but you weren’t home. Not you , that is. I guess I got the same idea as you—that I wanted to just head out and try to find Maple. But I didn’t have your address, so I was going off of small details I picked up over the years about your house.”

Maybe anyone else might find it strange that he would pay that much attention to every little thing I’ve written, but I know better. Cal—or rather, Matt—is a carpenter. Houses are one of the many things he is obsessed with.

“Anyway,” he continues, gazing out toward the back of the house, where the muffled roar of the ocean can be heard crashing against the cliffs. “It was your mother who put it together for me.”

I gape at him. “My mom?”

“I was walking to your front door at the same time she was getting in her car from the house next door. She told me that ‘Mabel Lee’ wasn’t home, but I swore she said ‘Maple Leaf,’ and that’s when I realized.”

“Oh.”

I’m not sure how to feel. This is Cal, the person I’ve trusted with my deepest thoughts and most complex feelings. The man who has understood me in ways I didn’t even realize I needed to be.

But on the other hand, this is also Matt Morgan.

Matt is guarded and abrasive. He doesn’t like me. He’s quick to make the worst assumptions, and he forms unfair judgments faster than what can really be considered healthy. He’s been difficult in every interaction I’ve had with him since we met.

How can these two people be the same guy?

“I don’t know what to say now,” I admit.

Matt looks down at the floor. “Neither do I.”

I take a deep breath, trying to hold back the rush of emotions, none of which I can really name, threatening to spill out of me. I don’t know whether to be angry or heartbroken or relieved or… something else entirely .

My heart is pounding out the name Cal like a metronome. Cal, Cal, Cal .

But it’s all wrong. Cal doesn’t exist. Cal is Matt.

And I don’t really know Matt at all.

“I think I should go,” I whisper, stepping back toward the door.

Matt’s expression shifts, like he wants to say something, or like he might actually try to stop me from leaving, but… he doesn’t. All he does is watch as I turn and make my way toward the front door.

I can feel the tears welling up behind my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I don’t even know why I want to cry.

My steps are quick as I walk toward my car, trying to put as much distance as I can between myself and this manor—between me and him .

I don’t really know how I expected this confrontation to go, but I certainly didn’t think it would end in awkward silence and me practically running away.

Inside my car, I let out a shaky breath. I grip the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white as I try to steady myself. The tears threaten to spill, but I blink them back, staring straight ahead at the empty porch through the windshield.

Matt doesn’t come outside. He doesn’t try to stop me. Matt doesn’t want me in his life.

Which means that Cal doesn’t want me either.

I think about all the things I told Cal. All the secrets, the dreams, the fears. The truth about my inability to have children, and my goal to adopt a baby one day. The way I opened up to him in a way I’ve never been able to with anyone else. I told him everything . And now, it feels like I’ve been baring my soul to a stranger.

I turn the key in the ignition, the engine sputtering to life. My hands are still trembling, but I manage to navigate my car around the circular driveway. I glance back at the house one last time, the manor standing tall and lonely against the backdrop of the setting sun.

It’s a beautiful place, in a strange way—old and weathered, but full of potential.

But potential doesn’t have much of a basis in reality. Potential doesn’t erase the fact that we are two people who, even with all the history we share, might be fundamentally incompatible.

As I pull out of the driveway, I feel a pang of something I can’t quite name. Regret? Sadness? Maybe a little of both. I had always believed that Cal was my soulmate. Even in just a friendship-specific sort of way. I always believed that we were meant to know each other, that he opened my letter because the universe whispered in his ear that we could have a bond so special that most people can only ever dream of it.

I drive in silence for a while, the trees on either side of the road blurring as I try to make sense of the mess in my head. My heart feels heavy, like it’s been cracked open and all the hope I once held inside is slowly leaking out.

I feel a weird urge to scream. Like I need to dispel something inside me that is festering and raw and taking up too much space. But I don’t scream. Instead, I keep driving, the road stretching out before me as I steer away from Mermaid Shores. I need to drive along the coast for a while, need the steadying rhythm of the waves soothing me from beyond my open windows.

Even so, a part of me wants to turn the car around—to go back to Beaufort Manor, march up the steps, and demand that we talk this out. That’s what I set out to do a mere hour ago. I had resolved to confront Matt, and instead I let the truth spill out without bothering to clean up the mess it was making .

I let out a frustrated sigh, gripping the steering wheel tighter as the road curves along the crescent edge of the Cape. The sky is a burning red and orange, shining golden against the frothing water.

For the first time in my life, I don’t know what to do. It scares me. I’ve always been the type of person who knows what I want, who makes decisions and sticks to them. But right now, I feel like I’m floating in some kind of limbo, caught between the two versions of myself: Maple Leaf and Mabel Lee.

And, strangely, I don’t think I know which one I really want to be.