Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
Royal
I lost my determination to tell Callie the truth the second I opened my door and saw her standing there, looking like a vision in cashmere and denim. My good intentions vanished, and all I could think about was getting her naked and tasting her flesh. It took every ounce of my strength to hold off touching her until after I fed her.
And when she climbed onto my lap the second we finished, letting me know she’d been just as eager as I was the whole time? My brain completely shut down, letting my body take the lead without remorse or contention.
Now, we’re naked and tangled in my bedsheets, completely spent and satisfied, and my brain has woken up, reminding me that I need to tell Callie the truth. Guilt weighs me down, and I regret not telling her the moment she arrived. If she’s going to be upset, knowing I kept the truth from her long enough to have sex is only going to make it worse.
I’m such a fucking idiot.
“Callie,” I murmur, knowing I can’t put it off any longer, “I need to tell you something.”
I wait a couple of beats, but get no response. I whisper her name again, tilting my head so I can see her face. Her cheek rests against my chest, her eyes closed and her breaths deep and even. She’s asleep.
Relief and guilt war inside me as I think about waking her up. In the end, I decide to let her sleep. I’ve already put it off this long. Our conversation can wait until the morning, when she’s well-rested and, hopefully, in a good mood.
Sighing quietly, I reach over and grab my phone from the nightstand. Pulling up my text thread with “Elle,” I scroll through and read all of our messages. I’ve really enjoyed our conversations, and I don’t want to lose this. But I also can’t lose what I’m building with Callie. It’s too soon to call it love, but my feelings for her are strong. Something I haven’t felt for anyone since Hope.
If––no, when ––I tell Callie the truth, I can only hope she won’t assume I’ve known it was her all along. Sure, she’s going to be angry I didn’t fess up the second she gave me her phone number. Hell, I’d be mad, too. And that load of crap I gave her about messaging through Cackle instead being a better option only made things worse.
I just pray she sees the logic, and will realize I never would’ve asked for her phone number in the first place if I’d known she was “Elle” the whole time. That I panicked and made a poor decision afterward, sure, but I never set out to intentionally deceive her.
Closing out the app and setting my phone back on the nightstand, I tighten my arm around Callie and press a soft kiss into her hair. She moans in her sleep and snuggles closer, her own arm squeezing my chest. My thoughts go foggy as I settle into the warmth of our embrace, and I blow out a long breath.
Tomorrow. I’ll tell her the truth tomorrow.
The next thing my brain registers, I’m waking up in an otherwise empty bed. I call out her name, but there’s nothing but silence in response. Climbing out of bed, I wander into the kitchen to find a note on the counter. It says Callie went home to get ready for work, and that she’d see me later. It’s signed with a heart.
Fuck. I lost my chance to talk to her, and now, I’m going to have to continue to lie to her all day. Because there’s no way in hell I’m broaching the subject at work. I need her alone so we can hash this out until it’s resolved.
I stare down at the note in my hand, my gaze zeroed in on that heart. Maybe I should go straight to her apartment. Maybe I can catch her before she leaves for work, and we can resolve it before I dig myself any deeper into this hole I’ve created.
I look up from the note to the microwave to check the time. No. I’ll never make it.
Dropping the paper back to the counter, I head back into my bedroom to retrieve my phone. I consider calling Callie, then disregard the idea. This conversation needs to be had in person. Instead, I pull up Linc’s number and tap the icon to initiate a call.
“Hey, bro,” he says when he answers on the second ring.
His voice echoes, telling me he’s in his work truck, and I’m on speaker.
“Are you alone?” I ask instead of returning the greeting.
“Yeah,” he says. “I’m on my way to a worksite. What’s wrong?”
“I have a problem, and I need your advice,” I say.
There’s a moment of loaded silence before he answers. “Okay. Lay it on me.”
I know he’s surprised. I never come to him for advice. As the older brother, it’s always been me who doles out the words of wisdom. Not that he hasn’t been there for me when I’ve needed him. He’s always been there. I’ve just rarely taken advantage of it.
“I’ve been seeing…Callie,” I say, and he cuts me off.
“Woah, woah, woah. Seriously?” he asks, and I feel my hackles rise. Then he laughs and says, “I knew I was right.”
He’s referring to the last conversation we had about her, when I told him I was sharing my room with her at the convention. He accused me of being into her. But if I was, I wasn’t aware of it, so I’d denied it, completely.
“Do you want to hear this, or not?” I ask, so he stops laughing and clears his throat.
“Yeah. Sorry.”
I give him some bare-bones details describing the evolution of this thing with Callie, making it clear how happy I am with her. Linc listens without interrupting. When I finish, I take a long breath and let it out slowly.
“It sounds great, Royal. What’s the problem?” he asks when I don’t start speaking again right away.
“So, you know how the anniversary of Hope’s accident just passed?” I ask.
“Yeah, I know,” he says quietly.
“There’s this thing I do every year around the date. I text her. On her old phone number. It helps, talking about our memories together even though I know she’s not on the other end.”
“I didn’t know that,” he says.
“No one does,” I say, then inhale deeply. “This year, someone answered. Hope’s family must’ve finally gotten around to disconnecting her phone service, because someone else got her old number. She texted me back, and we’ve been texting each other almost every day since then.”
“She?” Linc asks.
“Yeah. We agreed in the beginning not to give each other any personal information. You know, in case one of us was a scammer, or something. It’s been really nice. I feel like I can talk to her about anything.”
“So, what? You’re feeling torn between this mystery woman and Callie?”
“No,” I say quickly. “It’s nothing like that. Elle––that’s her code name, Elle––is a great friend. Or pen pal, or whatever. But there’s been nothing romantic between us.”
“Okay. What’s the problem?”
“Yesterday,” I say on a long exhale, “I asked Callie for her phone number so we could stop conversing via email.”
“You don’t have her number? Haven’t you guys worked together for years?”
“That’s beside the point,” I say. “The point is, I do have her number.”
He’s silent for several long beats, processing that cryptic remark, then gasps and says, “ No . Don’t say it.”
“Elle is Callie.”
“Holy shit. Talk about a small world. What did she say when you told her?” he asks, and when I don’t answer right away, he adds, “Royal? What did she say?”
“Linc––”
“Oh, my God. You didn’t tell her,” he cuts in, his tone accusatory.
“How could I?” I ask defensively. “She trusts Emmett way more than she trusts me. If I told her the truth, she’d think I knew all along and was playing her this whole time.”
“Who’s Emmett?” he asks.
“Me. That’s my code name.”
“Emmett and Elle? Like from Legally Blonde ?”
“Focus, Linc.”
“Sorry. Sorry,” he says, and I give him a moment to organize his thoughts. Finally he says, “How did you get out of giving her your number after she gave you hers?”
“I told her we should use Cackle, instead. Direct messages are more secure.”
“God, Royal. You need to tell her the truth, man. As soon as possible. This isn’t something you can hide forever. And you shouldn’t, even if you could. Relationships are built on trust. Next time you see her, just tell her you were shocked and panicked. She’ll understand as long as you come clean the next time you see her.”
“She stayed over last night,” I admit on a low mumble.
“What? And you didn’t tell her?”
“I was going to,” I say loudly, getting defensive again. “But she looked so amazing and wanted to have a nice night…fuck, I chickened out.”
“And you slept with her.”
“Yes.”
“Royal,” he groans. “You just made it a hundred times harder on yourself. You need to tell her. Today. Throw yourself on her mercy and pray you get brownie points for coming clean before she finds out from someone else.”
“Someone else?” I ask.
“You work together. I’m assuming other staff members have your number?”
Shit. He’s right. If she asks someone else for my number and realizes the truth, it’s going to be so much worse than if I tell her.
“Yeah. You’re right. I’ll tell her today.”
“Good luck, man. I’m pulling up to the site, so I have to go, but text me later and let me know how it goes with Callie.”
“I will. Thanks, Linc.”
“Anytime, bro. Bye.”
“Bye.”
He ends the call, and I stare off into space for a few beats as I think about what he said. I know I need to tell Callie today. And I can’t wait until after work. I’ve already let too much time pass, as it is. I’ll pull her into one of our classrooms before the kids arrive and spill the truth, and hopefully, she’ll understand.
Hopefully, she won’t hate me.
Lifting my phone, I open the text thread between “Elle” and “Emmett.”
I reread Callie’s last message, which was about me not wanting to give her my phone number. My molars grind together, and my back muscles tense. That text, more than all of the others, combined, is going to embarrass Callie when I tell her the truth.
Because there’s no question that it’s about me.
She’ll be mortified, and when Callie is embarrassed or uncomfortable, she lashes out. Fuck.
My thumbs fly over the screen as I type out a final message from Emmett.
Me: Sometimes the universe gives us the exact thing we need at the exact right time. Thank you for being that thing for me.
Only a few seconds tick by before I get a response.
Elle: Why does that sound like a goodbye?
My fingers squeeze around my phone, the tips turning white with the pressure. Without replying to Callie, I toss my phone onto the bed and head into the bathroom. I need to take a shower and get ready, or I’m not going to have enough time to talk to Callie before class starts.
And that is unacceptable. No matter what happens, I’m confessing this morning. I just hope she has enough faith in me––in us ––to believe me when I tell her I had no idea until yesterday. And enough mercy in her heart to forgive me for not telling her the second I figured it out.