Chapter 5 #2
I wasn’t looking for a cat, but after the Serpents had done a calendar photo shoot to raise money for charity, I didn’t hate the idea of having someone else around.
It was better than sitting in my apartment alone all the time.
So I stopped by Rory’s clinic, and Percy had just happened to come in for surgery.
It felt like kismet, and he’s been mine since.
Percy wiggles in her arms, and she lets him down, watching as the cat sprints through the apartment, back to the spare bedroom.
She then drags her gaze over me, and for the first time, maybe ever, I feel self-conscious standing in front of her.
As much as she’s changed over the years, I wonder if I have too, other than the new tattoos, of course.
With how hard she’s looking at me, I think it might be more than that.
When she gets to my eyes and realizes I’m staring at her too, she averts her gaze and clears her throat. That same awkwardness from before permeates the room again, and I say the first thing that comes to mind to erase it.
“What are you doing here, Chloe?”
She sighs, then shakes her head, crossing her arms over her chest as she looks out at the Emerald City. “Honestly? I’m not sure.”
I try not to let my aggravation show because of course she’s not sure. That’s what she told me three years ago, too, when I asked when she was coming back.
It was the worst phone call of my life, and it’s been etched into my mind ever since. Though I have more questions now than I’ve ever had before, I try a different approach.
“Does your date know you’re here?”
She whips her head my way, her dark brows pulled in tight. “It wasn’t a date, Callum.”
I snort. “That’s not what it looked like to me when you walked in with your arm around his.”
For a moment, she looks surprised, like she had no idea I was watching her, then she shakes her head. “I told you last night it wasn’t what it looked like.”
She did say that then, and I didn’t believe her. I want to now, though—more than anything. It’s something I’ve not let myself think about, her with other men. Sure, we’re still legally married, but we haven’t been together for years. Even so, the thought is too much to wrap my head around.
“It was a job interview.”
Do people go to bars as part of job interviews these days? I know I’m not really in a conventional line of work, but even I know that sounds like a load of bullshit.
“I know it sounds strange, but the company was…courting me. They reached out to me, hoping to woo me into giving up my freelance status. They wanted to hire me as their new editor.”
I don’t miss her use of the past tense.
“Wanted to? What happened?”
She straightens her back, looking anywhere but at me. “Uh, it’s just not going to work out.”
“Why not?”
She doesn’t answer. Before I can think too much about it, I reach out to her, grabbing her chin and forcing her to meet my stare.
It takes her a moment, but she finally does, giving me my first close-up look at her brown eyes, which I used to love so much.
She’s always hated them, said they were boring, but they’re far from it with a mix of light and dark brown, so deep it reminds me of the 70% cacao the team’s dietitian wants us to eat.
Turns out I still love them.
“Why not, Chloe?”
I feel her swallow. “Because that guy was an ass.”
My nostrils flare as anger courses through me. “What did he do?”
“Nothing.”
“What did he do?” I repeat, my words harsher this time.
“It’s no big deal. He was just, uh, a little inappropriate a few times. Looking down my dress, making comments about my weight. That’s all.”
I flex my free hand, the same urge from before, the one that said I needed to hit something, coursing through me. “What’s the company?”
She shakes her head, pulling out of my grasp, and I miss her softness instantly. “No, I’m not telling you because it doesn’t matter. I already turned them down and reported him. I’ve dealt with it.”
She tips her chin up, sounding so damn self-assured in a way I’ve never heard before, and I realize then that it’s not just her appearance that’s changed.
It’s her. She’s not the same teary-eyed girl she was when she left for her internship.
She’s more confident, stronger, sure of who she is.
I don’t know this version of my wife, but I want to.
“All right,” I tell her, stuffing my hands into my pockets to keep from reaching for her again. I blow out a long breath. “So, you’re here for a job?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t get it?”
“No.”
“What happens next?”
She looks taken aback, like she hadn’t thought that far ahead, and it confirms every fear I had.
Chloe isn’t back for me. She’s not here to repair our marriage.
She’s here for herself, and that’s it. Seeing me was just an unfortunate happenstance, and if I hadn’t been at that bar last night, we might not have ever crossed paths.
My wife doesn’t want me anymore, and I’m not sure how to reconcile that.
“I want to stay.”
I snap my gaze back to her. “What?”
“In Seattle,” she clarifies. “I, uh, I have a few other places I’m interested in working, so I’m not ready to leave just yet.”
Oh. It’s still all about a job.
I nod, reaching up to rub at the back of my neck, the tension from before getting worse the longer this conversation goes on. “Well, good luck with the hunt. I—”
“I want to see you again.”
I pause, unsure I heard her correctly. “What do you mean?”
“I, uh…” She huffs, then pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “I want to talk again. I don’t want to not talk anymore.”
I want to remind her it was her decision to cease communication, but I’m so fucking happy to hear her words that I don’t.
“Okay.”
Her eyes light up for the first time since I opened the door, and she looks so much like she did years ago that it makes my chest ache. I rub at the spot that hurts, and she follows the movement, her eyes landing on my empty left hand.
If she has questions, she doesn’t voice them. She just returns her eyes to mine as she says, “Okay.”
We don’t move. We don’t speak. We just stand there.
Me because I’m not ready for her to leave yet, and her because…
well, I’m not sure, but I’m not about to rush her away.
I want to ask her so many things. How has she been?
Where is she living now? Is she still at the address I sent the card to, or has she moved again?
It felt like every few months, I would get a text with a new address.
London, Georgia, Ireland, San Francisco, Spain, Brazil.
She’s been all over the place, and I want so desperately to know about her adventures, but I’m too scared to ask the wrong thing and send her running.
As if she’s getting antsy too, she clears her throat, then points to the door.
“I, uh, I’d better get going. I have an assignment due and a couple thousand words to write still.”
Don’t go, I want to beg. Stay. Don’t leave me again.
But I can’t say any of that, so I say nothing at all. Instead, I lead her toward the door, letting the silence linger. She pauses when we reach the small entryway, turning my way, and I fight the urge to close the already short distance between us because it’s still too much.
“Can we get together while I’m in town? Maybe grab a coffee?”
A coffee? Doesn’t she know I want more than coffee with her?
I nod. “Sure, coffee sounds good.”
“Great. I’ll, um, I’ll text you. Or you can text me. You’re the hotshot hockey player with the busy schedule.” She smiles softly, opening the door, her hand on the knob. “It was really good to see you, Callum.”
It was really good to see you. It sounds like she’s talking to an old friend, not the person she promised the rest of her life to, and I feel it in every word. I rub at the spot on my chest again, my fingers brushing against the ring I keep hidden beneath my shirt.
“You too…Clover.”
Her breath catches. It’s subtle, but I don’t miss it…and it’s the only thing that gives me hope that maybe this little visit of hers has affected her as much as it has me.
With one last glance backward, she leaves. I watch her go, not turning away until she’s tucked inside the elevator. I close the door and lean against it. When I pull my phone from my pocket, I realize how hard my hands are shaking.
“Fuck,” I mutter, dragging one over my face, trying to scrub away all the thoughts running through my mind right now.
I can’t believe that just happened. Chloe was here. Right fucking here. Standing in my apartment with all her beauty and making my heart beat in a way it hasn’t in years. My breaths come in sharp but shallow, and it feels like the walls are closing in on me. Crushing me. Killing me.
I need air. I need…I don’t know what I need.
Somehow, I manage to swipe through my recent calls and hit the name I’ve called upon more times than I could count since everything went down with Chloe and me.
“Cal?” says a craggy voice. “Everything good?”
“No.” There’s a shuffling, a grunt, and a distinctly feminine voice asking where her companion is going. “Are you busy?” I ask, even though I can clearly hear he is.
“Nah, it’s nobody important.”
“What the fuck?!” the mystery woman says, and if I weren’t so consumed by what just happened, I’d yell at him for that. For being so damn smart, he sure is dumb sometimes.
She slings a few hurtful words at him, and there’s a bunch of other commotion before a door slams.
“Well, that takes care of that. What’s going on, big brother?”
“I don’t know!” I yell, raking my free hand through my hair and pushing off the door. I pace across my apartment to the very windows Chloe was just staring out of.
All it does is remind me of her, so I turn on my heel, marching back over to the door. It’s pointless. I swear the space still smells like her floral perfume.
“Fuck,” I murmur as I move through my apartment, trying to find somewhere she wasn’t.