To Have Calum Dissick (Stepbrother Dearest #3)

1. Loving can hurt

CHAPTER 1

Loving can hurt

It doesn’t get easier, but you get better at pretending. So much so that when Calum Dissick and his bandmates appear on TV, I don’t flinch or bat an eyelid. Amelia sinks to my left. Her worried eyes settle on me right before the show starts. She has always been the mother hen, but now that Mace is almost here, her concern borders on paranoia. Grabbing the remote from the coffee table, she drags it closer so I can place my feet on the surface. She gets me.

“Are you sure you want to watch this?” she murmurs.

No. But his voice works magic for Mace, and I love my comfort. I place the bowl of popcorn on my swollen belly, and she steals from it. We stare at the TV attached to the white wall of our office. The boys talk, but I can’t hear their voices because the sound is on mute.

“Not really. You know his voice calms Mace. I don’t have much of a choice here.”

A smile springs to Amelia’s lips when I mention the name she gave my son. She pokes my belly, her lips moving into a pout. Mace is not here yet, but almost. He should be here in two months. I rub a hand over my belly. It’s one bad habit I’m not sure I’ll stop when he arrives.

“Are you going to tell him?” she asks.

Waves of tiredness crash over me. I’m all round exhausted. I close my eyes, tipping my head back to rest it on the couch. Maybe I should have taken her advice and stayed back at home.

“Are you going to stop talking about it?” I reply.

“Never,” she sings. She means that. She has been trying to get me to tell him about the baby since I found out last year. The only reason she didn’t do it herself was because I would have recanted her godmothership. “He’s a dick. Even his last name sounds like dick, but you should.”

A groan escapes me. I press two fingers to my temple. “Can I just watch the show in peace?”

The doctor said the baby’s movements were normal, but that makes sleeping hard. And now, I can’t catch a break because of her. Unfortunately for me, the only thing that calms Mace is listening to the acoustic version of Calum’s song or hearing his father speak. For that reason, I’m learning to play the guitar, so I never have to listen to that man. As soon as my son gets here, I’ll make it clear that he needs to level up. We don’t do Calum Dissick in this place.

Amelia inches closer, her mouth drawing near to my bump. “Mama is in a bad mood, Mace,” she whispers, making a circle on my belly. “Don’t let her transfer the bad energy to you.”

I swat the back of her head. She scowls and returns to her side of the couch. We resume the show. Well, she does. My eyelids are heavy, my head aches, and I bloody well want to race home and curl in my bed, but I must watch the entire program. It was her idea to have a TV in the office. Even the couches. Being her housemate, office mate, and best friend is cool, but sometimes, she’s so much at once.

“Are you still up for the group call?” she says.

Her voice rolls over me, and I nod without opening my eyes. Taylor and Rose try to check in with a video call once a week. We are all busy. They are sorting out their lives, and I’m stuck here with this baby. Okay. I’m not stuck. I’m here, and he’s there living his best life after putting this… No, I won’t think about him . And I’m happy to have Mace in my life. As happy as I can be after the initial shock passed.

Amelia snaps her fingers. My eyes open to find worried brown ones gawking at me. All care for decency flies out the window as I fold my legs at the knees, exposing my thighs to anyone who would walk in through the door. I should have worn jeans instead, but who has time for the struggle it takes when I can throw on a simple dress?

“What?” I ask.

“You were carried away,” she replies.

Yes. But because she has that sad look that only appears when the topic of Calum comes up, I say, “No, I wasn’t.”

We sit in silence until the male interviewer’s voice floats into our office. I try not to focus on the only blonde in the boy band group, but my eyes go to him. He is different in a mature way. His face is guarded, and a thick mass of beard covers his jaw. His curls are overgrown, but it adds to the new Calum aura. Sometimes, when he’s singing on stage, he will let his hair loose and shake his head, and the girls will go gaga. If only they know he breaks hearts.

My eyes drift to the other members of the band. Lucas and Sam. Do they remember the silly, naive girl who spoke to them last year? I still have the money and the tickets. The flight and VIP tickets. I keep them as a souvenir and a reminder of my stupidity, so whenever I’m tempted to give my heart out again, I’ll remember what loving can do.

Loving can hurt. Badly.

The interviewer asks a question that causes the three of them to laugh. Calum runs a hand through his hair, his biceps contract, and I glimpse his tattoos. There’s a ribbon tattoo under the guitar one. Lucas speaks and nods to Sam. But my gaze stays the longest on Mr Dissick.

Does he ever think of me?

Does he at any point remember the girl who was convinced she was his melody?

I feel the tears coming and try to blink them back, but they return with a vengeance. The good part about being pregnant is that I can always blame the tears on the hormones.

Why are you sad? The hormones.

Who made you cry? The hormones.

Why are you giggling? The hormones.

Why do you exist? The hormones.

“Are you okay?” Amelia whispers.

“The hormones,” I choke out and wipe the tears falling down my cheeks. “Mace is moving.”

Amelia’s phone pings before she counters my statement. Mace has been quiet. He has been a good boy. I smile down at my belly. What if he turns out to be a girl? We didn’t check for his gender, but Amelia woke up one morning convinced he was a boy and named him Mace.

A godmother is never wrong about her godson , she said. And so it came to be. I think Mace is a girl. Dad is convinced it’s a boy. A boy that will look like him. I’ll push Mace back into my womb if he comes out looking like anyone else but me. Who carried him? Me. Only me.

My phone buzzes, and I pick it up. Rolling my eyes, I reply to Dad’s text. Everyone is always worried about me. Amelia is going to her parent’s house this weekend, and he wants to know if he should come over so I’m not alone. He will make a great granddad, but I can survive a weekend alone. I need the space to clear my head. Besides, they fuss over me too much.

Amelia almost didn’t let me into the office today because she believes I should be at home. I look up as she jumps off the couch to continue her call. On the other wall is a framed copy of our business registration. Girls Code and Boys Code have grown a bit. Maybe more than a bit. We are not millionaires, maybe not in the next year, as we are still growing, but we earn enough to pay the small team that works with us.

It’s interesting what heartbreak can do to you. Throw in an ambitious best friend, two more willing-to-help friends, a wealthy father, a newly jobless dad, and a potential investor.

Amelia paces in front of the closed window, a hand on her waist as her teeth sink into her lower lip. Worry creeps into my veins. I tune out every other sound and sit up immediately.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

My eyes dart to the TV. The question was aimed at Calum. The couch sinks with Amelia’s weight, and she slides her hand into mine. Contrary to what they all think, I’m fine without him. I don’t care who he dates. I’m only curious. Maybe I might warn his next victim.

“Rumours have it you might be…”

Calum crosses his arms. He needs a shave. A look shadows his face, and his friends flanking him on each side shift. Either this question was not supposed to be asked, or something else vexed the young man. I toss my phone to the couch. I’m not interested in his reply. I don’t care.

“That I might be what?” Calum asks.

“Gay?” the interviewer supplies. It’s quiet in the studio used for the interview. Christmas was three weeks ago, but ornaments hang from their walls. Calum scoffs. Sam and Lucas share a worried glance. “You never say anything about a woman… or a man. Your fans are curious.”

“Music is my only focus right now,” he says. He looks behind him, and I spot the guitar at the back of the couch he’s seated on. I don’t know what song he will play, but Mace will like it. He likes anything that comes out of his father’s mouth. And that’s sad. “Can we move on?”

“Move on?” the interviewer asks.

He’s seated behind a desk while the others sit on a couch a few feet away from him.

“Yeah. We came here to sing, right?”

“Oh, right. But one last question before the singing,” the man cuts in. “If I may, Mr Dissick.”

Calum fists his hands and smiles. That smile is too fake. He looks ready to detonate. I snort into a laugh. The interviewer is annoying, but he’s making Calum uncomfortable. I love it.

Amelia laughs. I’m not sure why, but we exchange a look and burst out laughing. It’s freeing to my soul, and happy tears leak from the corners of my eyes. Calum might be my baby daddy, but we are allowed to hate him.

“How did you get the scar?” the interviewer continues.

Our laughter dies. Calum freezes.

“What scar?” Calum whispers.

Pointing to the back of his head, the man gives Calum a look. A look he expects him to pick up on, but Calum stares blankly at him. The only scar he has is on his belly, and it’s faded.

“The one…” the man trails off when Calum jumps out of his seat abruptly.

Our eyes tail Calum as he storms outside. The interviewer turns to his bandmates, who are as stunned. He lets out a fake laugh and taps the bud clipped to his ear. For the first time since the interview began, I’m annoyed with him. He was so intrusive, and now Calum is upset.

And I don’t care.

“Well, that went well,” the interviewer says with a laugh to cover up his mishap.

No one laughs.

“Wanker,” Amelia mutters.

A big, bloody shite. I snatch the remote on the coffee table and switch off the TV.