42. Beth
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
BETH
“ Y ou good?”
Callan squeezed my hand and smirked at me. “It’s only your wee sister.”
The Monday after we agreed to be in a real relationship, I decided to ease Callan into meeting my family by introducing him to my sister Elle first. Mum had accompanied Dad to London for a long weekend. He was there for business, so Mum planned to meet up with her agent and publisher while they were there. Despite Elle insisting she was old enough to stay home alone, Mum and Dad insisted Grandma Elodie and Grandpa Clark stay with her.
Tonight they had tickets to the theater, and I’d offered to come over and keep Elle company. She protested, but I really wanted her to meet Callan. I wanted Callan to meet a member of my family without being overwhelmed by the lot of them.
Callan had a game the day after our reconciliation. I think it was a good thing because we might have holed up in my flat having make-up sex for the entire weekend.
Good news, he and Caley United went out and destroyed Leith United.
Bad news, the tabloids published online photos of me at the charity benefit with Iain Erstwhile, suggesting I was either cheating or Callan and I had broken up. Callan told me to ignore it, but the insinuation in the article was that I thought Callan wasn’t good enough if I was pursuing a man like Iain Erstwhile. Fecking feckers.
And then I got the good news/bad news that Mhairi was pregnant, and I’d have to find a replacement for her when she went on maternity leave.
“I’m on the bloody pill.” She’d sniffled down the phone to me, still somewhat in shock from the unexpected news. “We got cocky. Stopped using condoms. Now I’m pregnant ten years before I planned to be.”
I got off that phone call not only anxious about finding a photographer who was as good at content creation as Mhairi, but at the warning in her situation. Callan and I had stopped using condoms, too, because I was on the pill.
We needed to talk.
But after we visited with my wee sister.
Callan’s hand flexed around mine as I drew him to a halt outside my family home on Dublin Street. I wasn’t only nervous to introduce him to Elle, I was anxious about his reaction to where I’d grown up. My privilege and what he thought it meant was a spot of contention in our shared past. I didn’t want it to drive a wedge between us in our present.
“Ready?”
He stared up at the building and then nodded. I led him inside.
Callan’s lips parted as he took in the grandeur of the renovated Georgian townhouse.
“You grew up here?”
“Aye, this is home.” I nibbled my lower lip, studying his reaction.
He looked at me, his expression softening at whatever he saw in mine. “Can I get a tour?”
I grinned, my shoulders slumping with relief. “Absolutely.”
“Beth, is that you?” my sister called, her voice so faint I gathered she was in the kitchen.
“Aye!” I took Callan’s hand again and led him into the reception hall.
“Fuck me,” he muttered as he stared up the grand stairwell.
Chuckling, I took him past that and down the hall into the large kitchen at the back.
Sure enough, my wee sister was at the stove, cooking something that smelled of spices. She glanced over at us, her gaze zooming past me to Callan. “You really are Callan Keen.”
He nodded. “Nice to meet you.”
Elle pushed the frying pan off the stove so her food wouldn’t burn. Her long dark hair was piled in a messy topknot, and she wore a cropped tee and matching joggers. “I thought you were lying about dating a football player to make your life more interesting.”
She was teasing. Wee smartarse. I always thought because of our different coloring, we didn’t really look too much alike, but as she got older, I could see the resemblance.
Callan must have thought so, too, because he murmured, “Christ, she’s your dark-haired mini me.”
Snorting, I strode farther into the kitchen. “Callan, this is my wee sister, Elle. Elle, Callan … my …” Oh, we hadn’t discussed that far. Aye, we’d agreed to dating for real, but were we using titles? I didn’t want to scare Callan off.
“Boyfriend,” Callan offered, shooting me a knowing, cocky smirk. “I’m Beth’s boyfriend.”
I bit back a giddy grin, but my sister saw it. “Oh, you’ve got it bad, huh?”
Callan laughed as I glared. “Hush you. What are you cooking?”
“I’m making us fajitas!” Elle waved us over and said to Callan, “You should know I’m the only cook among my siblings, so if you’re looking for a girlfriend to feed you, I’d keep looking.”
Wee brat. “He almost killed me with a curry, so he’d be a hypocrite to leave me for that.”
Callan sighed. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”
“Too much spice?” Elle asked as she returned to the stove.
“Something like that,” I snorted. “Drink?”
He nodded, but I noted him taking in the expansive and well-kitted-out kitchen. My parents’ kitchen was the stuff of dreams with its Aga stove, multiple ovens, modern farmhouse cupboards, Belfast sink, and huge island with a marble waterfall countertop. Brass accents in the taps and handles added an extra touch of class. It was exactly the kind of kitchen I wanted when I was a proper grown-up.
“So, Callan, what’s it like to make a living kicking a ball down a field?” Elle asked as I set a drink in front of my boyfriend and sat next to him at the island.
“Elle!”
My wee sister grinned cheekily as she moved about the room, putting tortillas into the warming oven. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I might consider a career in professional women’s football, that’s all.”
I turned to Callan, who was chuckling. “She’s not lying. Elle wants to be a million things when she grows up.”
“When?” She quirked an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, but I’m the youngest and the most mature out of the lot of you.”
“Aww, it’s cute you think so.”
My sister shot me a dark look as she set out salad, guacamole, salsa, cheese, and sour cream. Grumbles awoke in my belly, and I felt a pang of gratitude despite her current glowering. Elle knew I was bringing Callan over this evening, and she also knew Mexican was my favorite.
“Well?” Elle stared at our guest. “What’s it like? Football?”
“It’s hard work. We train every day.”
“He’s not kidding. He has abs of steel,” I told her, swiping some cheese. “And stamina for days.”
Callan choked on a sip of sparkling water and shot me a wide-eyed What the fuck? look.
I shrugged because Elle didn’t understand my meaning.
“I know you’re talking about sex, you know, and gross.”
Oh shit. I kept forgetting she wasn’t ten anymore. “Sorry.” I grimaced sheepishly.
“Do you like being famous?” Elle asked Callan.
“Am I famous?”
“I knew who you were when Beth told us she was seeing you.” A slight flush hit my sister’s cheeks as she turned away.
I planted my chin in my palm, watching her duck her head with uncharacteristic shyness. Did Elle have a crush on my boyfriend? “Interesting,” I murmured.
“Shut up,” she said without looking at me.
“What am I missing?”
“Nothing, Captain.” I patted Callan’s knee, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, even though I also wanted to tease the living daylights out of my kid sister.
“It’s not what you think.” Elle set about putting the chicken fajita mix onto tortillas for us. “I … there’s a guy at school. He’s a huge Caley United fan, and he talks about Callan and Baird McMillan all the time.”
So she had a crush on a guy at school who liked Caledonia United?
“A guy at school?”
“Mm-hmm. He didn’t really talk to me much until you were pictured in the tabloids together …” She pushed plates toward us. “He thinks it’s cool you’re dating Callan.”
“You want an autographed shirt or something to give to him?” Callan offered.
“Wait, wait.” My protective big sister instincts kicked in. “He didn’t talk to you until he knew you were affiliated with Callan?”
Elle shrugged, plopping a huge dollop of sour cream on her food.
“Well, that’s not cool.”
“Maybe he saw it as his ‘in’ to talk to her.” Callan took a massive bite of fajita and swallowed before continuing, “It’s something I would have done if I liked a lassie but didn’t know how to approach her.”
“Oh, really? Because I thought you just glowered and grunted at a woman until she made the first move.”
He smirked, wiping salsa from his lip with his thumb. I wanted to lick it off. “Is that what happened? I don’t remember it that way.”
“What way do you remember it? Because I definitely remember some caveman qualities about your pursuit.”
“My pursuit? You were the one who made up a cock-and-bull story to get me into bed.”
“Pfft. Please. Like I needed a story.” I grinned, smug.
He grinned back. “Fair enough.”
“Um, enough flirting in front of the minor.” Elle drew our gazes back to her. “Do you really think it was only an excuse to talk to me?”
“Probably.” Callan nodded.
My sister was an absolute doll, so I wouldn’t be surprised if this kid she was talking about was looking for an in. “Would you take a selfie with Elle? She could show it to him as a conversation opener.”
“Oh, that would be amazing.” She gave Callan big wide puppy-dog eyes that only a callous man could say no to.
His lips twitched. “Sure. My way of saying thanks for the fajitas.”
“They’re good, ay?” I said, but it came out garbled and incoherent as I munched on a huge bite of yumminess.
In answer, Callan reached over and swiped guacamole off the corner of my mouth with his thumb and then sucked on it.
My womb clenched. His nostrils flared at whatever he saw on my face.
“Ugh, you two are as bad as Mum and Dad,” Elle pronounced and then followed it up with something I’d heard directed at my parents many a time over the years. “Get a freaking room.”