9. Beth
CHAPTER NINE
BETH
M issing Sunday dinner with my family was like a cardinal sin, and I’d missed the last three. Dad had apparently had enough because he called and told me that he understood I was busy, that he was proud of me, but nothing was more important than family and I shouldn’t lose sight of that in my pursuit of success.
He was so bloody calm and kind in how he said it, I couldn’t argue with him. I mean, if my dad could run one of the largest real estate companies in Scotland, own restaurants, and run several other businesses, and my mum could write two books a year and still manage to be there for her children and family, then surely, I could handle this?
Even my siblings were overachievers. Luke was about to juggle his last year of prelaw at Glasgow Uni while maintaining a super successful social media platform. He was obsessed with fashion and had been forever. He was also six foot three, extremely handsome, and wore clothes like they were made for him. Creative and talented, he started putting together these arty fashion videos that scored him a million followers. My wee brother didn’t seem to realize how difficult that was to do and what an accomplishment it was. He had more followers than Mum! Way more! Like, a shit ton more.
Designers had started sending him free stuff. During the summer, he’d bagged his first modeling job in London. And he was handling all of that, plus a long-term relationship with his boyfriend, Afonso, who was Portuguese and also prelaw at Glasgow. They’d met in first year and were madly in love.
My wee brother was not only more successful than me, he’d found his apparent forever love at eighteen.
And I was happy for him. Of course I was. Luke was the best brother anyone could ask for.
But it did make me feel like I should be able to do better.
Sometimes I wished I were more like our wee sister Elle. She was named after our aunt Ellie, which had gotten really confusing, so we called our Ellie Elle instead. Not going to lie, it still got confusing.
Elle, however, much like her namesake, was a dreamer. She was only fifteen, but she couldn’t decide whether she wanted to be a painter, a pianist, a singer, a writer, an influencer (of what she couldn’t tell us), a chef, or a teacher. Mum and Dad gave her free rein to be whatever she damn well pleased. And Elle was happy to go through her high school career never hyperventilating when she got a B instead of an A, and absolutely not concerned about extracurricular activities, even though I told her that was what would make her stand out to universities.
Oh, to be that laid-back about life.
Lucky wee brat.
God, I loved her.
And I missed her. Other than popping by the house for a quick catch-up, I hadn’t spent much time with my family lately.
So, even though I was stressed to the max and had a million things to do, and even though I had a promising casual Sunday date lined up from a dating app, I rescheduled it to go spend quality time with my family.
Unfortunately, that meant working my arse off on Saturday to make up for dinner tomorrow.
Hurrying out of the flat at the back of four in the afternoon for a client meeting, I rushed downstairs and almost collided with Callan as he climbed upward.
The hair he kept long on top was freshly washed, and he had a weariness in his eyes. That, and the bag hooked over his shoulder, told me he’d just come from training. Strangely, I was more aware of the football season this year and knew that Caledonia United played against Edinburgh rivals, Leith United, tomorrow.
As we’d agreed, we’d ignored each other all week. Fate seemed to be messing with us, too, because we’d bumped into each other more on the stairwell in the past week than we had since he’d moved in. Like it was trying to force us together. But as we’d promised, we ignored each other. It was agitating. I think, strangely, I missed needling him.
Callan barely looked at me as he passed. Disregarding the stupid ache in my chest, I couldn’t stop myself. I threw over my shoulder, “You haven’t had mail going missing, have you?”
A company credit card I’d sent for hadn’t arrived and the letter I’d been waiting on from my trademark lawyer had never shown. I wanted to trademark Social Queens after hearing horror stories about companies losing their social media accounts because of rival companies’ nasty tactics.
“What?” he asked tiredly without looking back.
I’d noted there had been no more women this past week. Or at least, I thought so. Maybe the brunette with the temper problem had put him off for a bit.
“My post. I’m missing mail. I wondered if anyone else was having issues.”
Callan suddenly froze mid step.
Then he blew out a beleaguered breath and glanced down at me. “I have your mail. I kept meaning to bring it to you. C’mon.” He gestured with his chin and started climbing again. “I’ll give it to you.”
Indignation flooded me. “You have my mail?”
“Aye. It was an accident.”
“You could have posted it through my letter box.”
“I forgot.”
“Of course you did. It didn’t involve anything to do with you, so why would you remember?”
“Jesus.” He cut me a dark look over his shoulder. “I’m sorry you didn’t get your junk mail in time.”
That was so typical of him to assume my post didn’t mean anything. “It’s actually really important mail.”
“Then come and get it.”
“I’m late for a meeting with a client. Please just post it through my letter box.”
Callan stopped and turned at the top of the landing. “Once I go into my flat today, I’m not coming out. So if you want your mail, come and get your mail.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him to post it through my letter box tomorrow, but he’d probably forget to do that too!
With an exasperated glance at my phone to check the time, I huffed and climbed the stairs again. “Let’s be quick about it, then.”
“Are you always in a hurry?” Callan asked as I reached him. I gestured for him to move along. He smirked. “I’ll take that as a yes. Your dates must love you.”
It took me a second to understand his meaning. I retorted, “Unlike some people, I’ve had no complaints in that department.”
“I was tired,” he gritted out between his teeth.
Pleasure curled through me. It really was quite sadistic how much I enjoyed annoying him.
“At least I date. I’ve never seen you with a bloke.”
“Maybe I like women. Or maybe I’m asexual.”
“You didn’t seem asexual when we were in high school. With me. Or Ryan Preston.”
Surprise shot through me. When I’d stopped talking to Callan in high school, I hadn’t really realized until the moment he recognized me on our stairwell that my defection had affected him. I’d thought I’d cared more, to be honest. So it was shocking to realize he hated me enough to care that I’d abandoned whatever had been between us, and even more surprising he remembered I’d dated Ryan Preston.
“If anyone could make a girl asexual, it was Ryan Preston.” I shuddered. The prick had tried to coerce me into sex, I’d punched him in the junk, broken up with him, and the next day at school, he told everyone we’d slept together.
“You didn’t use to think so.”
“Ryan Preston was a lying prick.”
Callan shot me a look, frowning. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing.” I shooed him forward.
“So … you’re not into fellas?”
“You know I am.” I rolled my eyes, thankful we’d reached his landing. His apartment was the only one up here. “Also, I date. I have a date on Monday, actually. He’s a computer scientist.”
“How exciting,” he replied dryly as he let me into the penthouse. “Is he going to titillate you with his hardware?”
“Nice use of titillate . And that was kind of funny. Well done.”
“You’re so patronizing.”
“You’re so easy to patronize.” I wandered down the entrance hall that opened into a spectacular open-plan living space. Light poured into the room from the windows and sliding doors. I’d seen photos online of this place, but seeing it in real life was something else.
“Aye, come right on in,” Callan said sarcastically at my back.
I ignored him. “This is gorgeous.” My gaze landed on the floral sofa that stuck out like a sore thumb among the rest of the chic furniture. “Or it almost is. Seriously, my eyes.” I pretended to be blinded by it.
“Hilarious.” His voice rumbled right at my ear.
Fighting off a shiver, I lowered my hand to find him standing too close, with two envelopes held out toward me.
Our gazes snagged, and just like that, eight years melted away and I was fifteen years old, suddenly finding myself seated in class next to the most beautiful boy I’d ever seen in my life. His light green eyes were still, to this day, the most gorgeous eyes I’d ever locked mine with.
Suddenly, my chest felt a little tight, like I couldn’t quite catch my breath.
Then my phone buzzed in my hand, interrupting the electric moment. Cheeks hot, I lifted the phone to my face.
I was thinking … I’m free Tuesday afternoon if you have time to meet for lunch then instead? Samuel.
My stomach knotted. I didn’t have time on Tuesday, but I couldn’t blow off Sheera’s son. This was stress I didn’t need right now. Sometimes I wanted to jump in my car and keep driving until I didn’t recognize anything in my rearview mirror.
“You all right?”
I glanced up to find Callan frowning. His gaze was far too searching.
“Fine.” I yanked the envelopes from his hand. “I need to go.”
I was already at his front door and hurrying out before he had a chance to say another word.