Chapter 42
CALLUM
Before You - Benson Boone
Alejandra was waiting for him on a bench in Regent’s Park.
Her green eyes—so perfectly matched to the grass around her—were set on the small pond where ducks drifted lazily.
Callum took his time, watching her the way she was when no one else was looking.
When she thought he wasn’t looking. She was gorgeous, as always.
The white blouse made her tanned skin practically glow, and her jeans overalls were mostly hidden by a long brown coat.
Her long black hair—the same he’d had fisted between his fingers the night before—was braided back, with a few strands framing her face.
When he reached her, he sat beside her gently, careful not to startle her. Her eyes were rimmed in red, but she looked more at peace than anything else.
“How did it go?” he asked. “If you want to talk about it.”
“Good,” she admitted. “If crying like a baby counts as a good session.”
“I used to cry in therapy when I was a kid, so… maybe that’s exactly how it’s supposed to go.”
“Why did you go?” she frowned. “If you don’t mind sharing.”
He smiled, his eyes scanning the stillness of the park.
“My mam sent me. She thought growing up without a father figure might mess me up, and she wanted to put a patch on it early. My mum never told me who he was, and I never pushed. I grew up with her and my taid—my grandfather. He was everything a dad was supposed to be.”
“Wow. I… aren’t you curious?” She backpedaled quickly. “I mean, sorry if that’s too direct. I just… I’d die to know who my father is. Alive or dead, I mean.”
“I was curious. But then I saw how much it hurt my mum when the topic came up, so I let it go. Now, at thirty-five, I’m not really interested. Some guy got a fifteen-year-old girl pregnant in a Welsh town and vanished. I’m not losing sleep over him.”
Alejandra blinked several times, her face flickering through surprise, curiosity, even a touch of anger. “Your mum must be young.”
“She is. She just turned fifty.”
“Gosh. My mum’s sixty-five.”
He grinned. “Let’s go back to you. How did it really go?”
She sighed. “Good. Like I said, I cried. And we figured out I need to heal my relationship with the ocean.”
“How do you think you’ll do that?”
Alejandra shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“You probably need to be closer to the ocean,” he said softly. “And London’s not exactly close.”
“We’re on an island,” she smiled faintly. “But yeah. I know the rational thing to do would be to get my stuff, go back to Conil, with my family, and continue my therapy online.”
His heart sank.
“But…” she added with a deeper sigh. “I don’t want to. I just got here. I like being around you. And I can’t face my family yet.”
She didn’t look at him. Her gaze was still on the ducks. But she said she liked being around him, and he almost fist-pumped the sky like he’d just won the Six Nations. The same way he wanted to cheer when she agreed to stay with him at the wedding. Being around Alejandra made him want to celebrate.
All the pieces of the puzzle in his mind to make his mam happy, to spend more time with his taid and to allow Alejandra to be closer to the ocean were slowly going into place.
“I might have a solution,” he said, scratching his beard.
“But no pressure, it’s not my intention to drag you into a family thing if you’re not up for it.
We can always do something else. But… in a couple of days, it’s Calan Mai.
” He glanced sideways. She was listening now, eyes fully on him. “Do you know what that is?”
“I mean, it was mentioned in one of my fantasy books. But tell me what it means to you,” she said, that teasing glint back in her eyes.
“Calan Mai is the Welsh celebration of the start of summer. Between April 30th and May 1st. It’s not widely celebrated anymore in Wales, but there’s a small committee that loves to keep the tradition going.
We light bonfires on the beach, dance, eat, tell stories, lots of folklore, like the stuff you read.
It’s always been a tradition back in Aberystwyth that people don’t want to lose.
My taid loves it.” He hesitated, then added, “My mam just called. She asked if I’d come home for it.
My taid’s memory is getting worse… Alzheimer’s.
She said it’d be good to be there while he still remembers some things.
” He paused again to clear his throat. “So, I thought… to kill two birds with one stone, we could go. Celebrate Calan Mai, and maybe get you close to the ocean again.”
A smirk curled her lips. Mischief in her eyes. “We haven’t even gone on a real date and you already want to introduce me to your family?”
He laughed, pulled her into a hug, and kissed her. “You have a very annoying smart mouth, you know that?”
Alejandra burst out laughing.
“So is that a yes?” he asked, a little nervous now.
“Yes. I’d love to. It sounds fun. Road trip?”
“Road trip,” he agreed.
She literally fist-pumped the air with both arms, then winced, remembering her shoulder.
“I love road trips,” she said, massaging the ache.
“Should we make it our first date?”
“The entire road trip?” she raised an eyebrow.
“Why not?”
“That doesn’t sound very normal.”
“Are we normal, Alejandra?” he asked, brushing her chin with his fingers and whispering against her lips. “We fucked on the first—”
“Second.”
“Second night of meeting. Went into no contact for seven fucking months. Met again in Ericeira. Hit it off too well and I fucked you in a wooden stall. Then you came here, and we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. I want us to be more than just sex.”
Alejandra was biting back a smile. “I want that, too.”
His lips crashed into hers, arms wrapping around her like he never wanted to let go.
“Then, it’s settled. Road trip,” and he fist pumped into the sky too, like a fifteen-year-old, as Alejandra giggled next to him.