Chapter Twenty-Five #2
‘Dealer’s choice.’
There it was, that irresistible half-smile on his fascinating face.
Not handsome or hot, but honestly beautiful.
His massive physical presence undercut by the softness in his blue eyes, his voluptuous lips at odds with the square cut of his jaw, russet hair contrasting against pale skin.
I was sure I could’ve studied him forever and still found new things to marvel at every single day.
If things were different.
‘Let’s start with an apology for what Elsie said about your family.’ Callum advanced halfway across the room, stopping short by my bed. ‘If she knew, she’d never forgive herself. She can be a cow, I know, but she’d never.’
‘You don’t have to apologise for that and neither does she,’ I replied, light words carrying across the dimly lit space. ‘I know she didn’t mean it and I didn’t help myself. She’s owed an apology as much as anyone else.’
‘She’s not in the mood to talk to any of us right now so I wouldn’t worry about it.’
He gripped one of the posts of the bed, testing its antique strength. The canopy only trembled slightly. I pulled my legs in closer, resting my chin on my knees.
‘We’re leaving first thing tomorrow,’ I told him. ‘Shouldn’t be too much traffic on the roads, Christmas Day. You can tell your mum and dad I was angry about the argument and took off without telling you.’
The floorboards creaked under him as he shifted from one foot to the other, weighing up his next move. He unfastened his jacket, sliding his arms out the sleeves.
‘I wish we’d met under different circumstances,’ he said, laying it across the foot of my bed.
‘We did meet under different circumstances,’ I reminded him. ‘Twice. Stella and Dave’s wedding and Lemon’s naming ceremony. We were both there.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘Lemon Marge O’Brien. That poor kid. I only stuck my head in to say hello. Had to work.’
‘You were at the wedding though?’ I asked but he shook his head, his mouth a grim line.
‘Not exactly the best day of my life. It was just after Shiv moved to London and she didn’t really want to go. She didn’t know anyone and she’s never been
very good with strangers. I spent the entire time trying to cheer her up until she threw a fit and insisted
we leave.’
I looked out at the mountains and then back at Callum.
‘Do you love Shiv?’ I asked.
‘Do I love Shiv?’
He seemed surprised by my straightforward question. Almost as surprised as I was by asking it.
‘Yes, I love her,’ he replied. ‘She was my best friend in the whole world for twenty-five years and now she won’t even talk to me. I miss her every day.’
Even when you prepare yourself for the worst, hearing the confirmation still hurts. I wrapped my arms closer around my shins and hugged myself tightly.
‘Then why aren’t you with her?’
His head rolled backwards to expose his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he worked on his response.
‘I’ve never been good at saying what I mean,’ he muttered, a few, long, lonely seconds later. ‘I love Shiv, but I’m not in love with Shiv. After we broke up, I realised I hadn’t been for a long time. She deserves better than what I was offering.’
‘Then why do you have her photo in your wallet?’
‘How do you know I have her photo in my wallet?’
‘Because I saw it when I found your wallet.’
‘It’s just a photo,’ he said. ‘I never thought to take it out, I hardly ever open my wallet these days, I pay for everything with my phone. It’s been there a long time, that’s all, doesn’t mean anything.’
‘Everyone says you’re still in love with her,’ I said, feeling suddenly small and timid. ‘Elsie and Graham and your dad.’
‘Three people renowned for their keen insight into the inner workings of my mind?’ Callum leaned against the bedframe and curled his arms behind him, wrapping them around the wooden post. ‘Shiv is the same as everyone else up here, she sees the version of me that she wants to see. Nothing but a selfish man who let down his family and doesn’t even have a good reason for it, same as the rest of them. ’
‘Not wanting to stay is reason enough.’
‘That depends on who you ask.’
Breaking away from the bed, he strode over to the fireplace and went down on one knee, stacking logs, adding kindling.
Sparking a match, he lit a piece of newspaper tucked in between the logs, then blew it out.
The tiny flame danced across the page, burning away the newsprint, flickering up and out and on.
He didn’t move until the flames licked at the first log and the wood began to crackle.
‘They’re right,’ he said, still staring into the fire.
‘I am selfish. I couldn’t deal with the responsibility expected of me so I let her take it on instead.
I don’t want Dad to have to sell the farm, I don’t want strangers living in my house, but I couldn’t stand the pressure of having my whole life planned out for me.
Where to live, what to do, who to marry. It was too much.’`
‘Did you tell them that?’
‘There’s a possibility those weren’t my exact words.’ He rubbed at his chin, as the flames bloomed. ‘Ever since we got back, I’ve found myself wondering if I was wrong. What if I’d stayed? What if I’d tried? Maybe I’d be happier than I am now.
‘But if I hadn’t left home, hadn’t taken up cooking, never got into school in Paris, I wouldn’t have met you.’
My breath caught in my chest and Callum turned to face me, rising to his feet.
‘You wouldn’t have needed to meet me,’ I returned, my fingers winding around each other. ‘No break-up, no move to London, no need for a Caroline stand-in.’
‘I’m not talking about Caroline,’ Callum said. ‘I’m talking about you.’
The weight of his gaze was crushing, pinning me to the chair and forcing to listen to him, my arguments and witty rebuttals all choked up in my throat. With dark eyes trained on mine, he unfastened one cuff of his shirt, folding it back on itself.
‘Laura Pearce, neurosurgeon, lover of Loch Ness and rare steaks and Christmas ornaments, who can’t hold her whisky and has feet like blocks of ice.’
‘Trainee neurosurgeon,’ I corrected quietly, my legs unfurling from the chair like they were moving of their own accord.
Not physically possible, I knew that, but the voice in my head was suddenly at odds with the voice in my heart and my body didn’t know who to listen to.
Instead it staged a coup against the both of them, ordering me to my feet, but I resisted, staying right where I was, in my chair, my safe harbour.
‘Trainee neurosurgeon,’ he assented and his throaty voice was rich and dark. ‘Kind, generous, selfless. Too selfless to be honest. Funny. Probably the cleverest person I’ve ever met in my entire life. And beyond fucking beautiful.’
I lifted my chin to meet his gaze and a bolt of anticipation shot through me, lightning fast and electric.
‘There’s something else I should apologize for,’ he said.
‘There is?’
He nodded. ‘That kiss.’
‘You’re sorry you kissed me?’ I asked, more disappointed than I was ready to admit.
‘No,’ he replied at once. ‘But I am sorry I crossed a boundary without asking.’
‘Oh,’ I sank back down into the depths of my desire, aching and raw, and suddenly I was too far adrift to drag myself back to shore. ‘Then perhaps we should redefine our boundaries. Just so we’re both clear.’
Slowly, I stood. Slowly, I walked over to where he was. It was me who positioned myself in front of him. I was the one who rested my hands against his chest. I was the one who held his heavy gaze.
‘Is this OK?’ I asked when his lips parted in a silent question.
‘Yes.’
The word was barely a whisper but his body screamed its consent, leaning into me as my palms ran lightly over his shirt, stroking first the soft cotton fabric then pressing harder to find the solid body beneath. Callum gasped under my touch.
‘Is this OK?’ I asked again, my eyes still on his when I slid one hand up to his collar, my fingers toying with the open buttons at his throat.
This time, he only nodded.
With his permission, I traced his magnificent jawline, like he was a sculpture made of marble.
His scruff was coming through a few shades darker than the deep russet of his hair, contrasting against his pale skin even in the low light of my room, and it scratched against my skin.
We both shivered. Following the line upwards, I tiptoed my fingers along his face until I found the top of his cheekbone and rested the palm of my hand flat against it. He looked down at me, mesmerised.
‘What about this?’ I asked, taking a half-step into him and he spread his legs, drawing me in closer, allowing me to explore while he kept arms down by his sides. But I could feel him trembling with the effort of holding back when I slid one hand into his thick, luscious hair and tugged.
‘Laura,’ he said, sounding hoarse, as he tilted his chin down to meet my upturned face, our mouths less than a breath apart. ‘This is more than OK with me but I need to be sure you know what you’re doing.’
The sound of my name on his lips, his breath warm against my skin, made my thighs clench.
‘Admittedly it’s been a minute but I’ve got a vague idea,’ I assured him, my fingers fisting the fabric of his shirt. ‘I am a doctor.’
‘That’s not what I mean and you know it.’ His teasing smile turned doubtful. ‘Are we making things worse?’
‘How?’
I was transfixed by his mouth, the shapes his lips made when he spoke, the fine lines that bracketed either side, invisible from a distance but clear enough close up. If he smiled more often, they’d be more prominent. I wanted to see them always.
‘Because – what was it you said?’ The smile and the lines disappeared, replaced by deep creases between his brows. ‘You don’t have time for relationships. Only fun.’