Chapter 6 #2
“I think you’re doing the right thing by seeing Keller. I know you wanted this to be a quick trip, in and out without any incidents, but I also think it’s time. It’s been three years. You can’t run from a hard conversation forever, you know.”
I do know. I’ve tried. More than once, actually.
I attempted to fill it with the internship, then writing.
Then again with traveling the world and exploring places I only thought I’d ever see in the movies as I wrote blogs and articles for various publications.
None of it worked. It was all wrong, and it did nothing to fill the void I felt in my heart.
It didn’t erase him, and it certainly didn’t erase how he made me feel.
I think that’s the worst part of this all. Through everything, my feelings for my husband have never wavered. It was everything else that felt off and compounded into something more. Callum was never the problem. I was.
“Chlo?”
“I’m still here,” I say. “Just…thinking.”
“I’m sure this is a lot to process.” She has no idea. “Do you want me to come out there? I can. I could be on the next flight out.”
“I love you for that, Tally, but no. I need to face this on my own. I created this mess, and it’s up to me to clean it. Besides, you apparently need to take care of my sick nephew.”
“I swear, if that little twerp isn’t even sick, I’m grounding him for a week. Maybe even two.”
Her words are nothing but a threat. They always are when it comes to her son.
Talia surprised me by announcing she was pregnant during our second semester of freshman year in Denver.
In retrospect, I should have seen it coming.
There were signs for a solid month before.
Her eating was off, she wasn’t sleeping well, and her emotions were all over the place, highlighted by the fact that she cried because she got a ninety-eight on a paper instead of a one hundred…
and she still had the highest grade in the class.
Pregnant or not, she didn’t let it stop her. I was sad when she transferred back to Tennessee, but I understood. She kept up with her classes, had my adorable pseudo-nephew in the fall, then picked up right where she left off. She even graduated a whole year before I did.
I asked her who the father was, but she maintained it was a one-night stand. She said after she told him about the pregnancy, he signed away all rights, and that was that. Of course, I still have questions, but none of them matter because none of them will change how good of a mother Talia is.
“I’ll take your silence as you not believing me,” she says, and I chuckle.
“No, I definitely don’t believe you, but that’s not why I was quiet. I was just thinking about college.”
“College? Ugh. Why would you want to go back there?” She pauses. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.”
Thinking back on that time always brings up so many memories.
While some of them suck, like that jerk Shawn Hicks making fun of my period, there are so many others I don’t ever want to forget.
College is where Callum and I fell in love, where he proposed, where we made promises of forever.
I don’t let myself slip back to those days often, but right now, I need them.
I need to remember that things can be good between us again.
Talia chuckles. “Keller was so annoying, the way he used to flirt with you in class all the time. I was trying to learn, but it was hard with you making eyes at each other.”
“We were not making eyes at each other, whatever the hell that even means.”
“You know exactly what it means. Heart eyes. All in love and shit before either of you was willing to admit it. It was so gross.”
Talia’s half right. We were in love, but one of us was brave enough to admit it, and it wasn’t me. Callum always told me how he felt. After that day in the cafeteria, he didn’t hide his feelings anymore. He was honest about what he wanted from me. I was the one who held back.
I guess that’s a part of our relationship that hasn’t changed.
“Look, as much as I’d love to keep trotting down memory lane with you, I just pulled up to the school, and I’d better go rescue the nurse from my overdramatic child.”
“You’re going to feel so bad when you find out he’s actually sick.”
“I won’t, because he’s not. I know my son, and let’s face it, you have blinders on when it comes to your nephew. He’s an angel in your eyes.”
“You’re damn right he is,” I agree. “Little Perfect.”
I’d bet the measly paycheck I got for my last article she just rolled her eyes at my old nickname for him.
“This is why I’m the favorite,” I remind her.
“No, you’re the favorite because you send him elaborate gifts from wherever you are in the world.”
“That reminds me, I need to mail you the stuff I picked up from Pike Place Market.”
“Chloe…” To untrained ears, she might sound irritated, but I know her better than that.
She’s grateful for everything I do for her and Ian.
Raising a kid by yourself is no easy feat, and it’s even harder when you have a parent like Chloe’s dad pulling the strings and trying to control every aspect of her life. “I love you, you know that?”
“I love you too, Tally.”
“Does that mean you’re going to call me before you see your husband again?”
He didn’t feel like my husband when he was looking at me like a stranger just an hour ago.
“Yes, I will.”
“Good. Now go enjoy a long bath in that tub you texted me about while you still can. How long are you there again?”
“They put me up through the weekend, which is good, because I looked at my bank account this morning and it just read HA.”
“You know…” She tries to sound casual, but I know her better than to believe that. “If you’re hurting for money, you could always—”
“Don’t.” I already know what her next words will be. “I’m not touching it.”
She sighs. “All right. Fine, fine. I get it.” But I know it’s not the last I’m going to hear about it. “Just let me know you’re good, yeah?”
I promise her I will, and she lets me know she’ll send an update on Ian later before we hang up.
I pull the phone away from my ear, and I’m surprised when I find a message waiting for me.
I expect it to be Seattle Daily again—they’ve been calling all morning since I reported Dirk for his behavior—but it’s not.
It’s my parents.
Mom: I tried to call for an update on the interview. Please return it whenever you get the chance.
I want to laugh at how succinct and impersonal the message is, but that’s just how my mother has always been. She’s not cold or unemotional; she’s just straight to the point. My father is the more loving of the two, which is why his message makes me smile.
Dad: We love you, our little lucky charm.
I type out a quick message, letting them know I’ll call later, then set my phone aside.
I love my parents, and I know they love me too, but sometimes there’s a part of me that blames them for where I currently am with Callum.
In the end, it was all my doing, but they weren’t innocent in it either, especially my mother.
I should have known that when she suddenly decided to support my writing, it was all a ploy to get me away from Callum.
“Wow. London, huh?” She hums happily. “You know, you don’t seem happy in the lab. Maybe you should apply. You did always love writing. Why not give it a shot and see what happens? You’ve given up so much for Callum and have gone wherever he goes for years. Take a leap for yourself.”
I convinced myself her support meant I was doing the right thing. We were finally on the same page, so why wouldn’t that be a sign? I did love writing, and as happy as I was for my husband and all his accomplishments, I wanted some of my own. She just gave me the nudge I needed to make it happen.
My phone buzzes, and I reach for it, expecting a message from my dad, likely an emoji that doesn’t mean what he thinks it means, but it’s not him. I spring up to a sitting position, my head feeling all fuzzy from moving so quickly, but I don’t care.
He texted. Callum texted.
Even after he said he would, I wasn’t sure. I hoped, of course, but I couldn’t be certain. Reading him was next to impossible.
I scoot back on the bed until my back rests against the three pillows pushed up against the headboard and read the message three times.
Callum: I’m not sure how long you’re planning on staying, but I could do coffee on Thursday.
Thursday. It’s only Tuesday. That’s too much time to imagine all the ways this could go wrong, and I have a very active imagination.
My first instinct is to tell him no, to make up some excuse and claim I have to leave early, to run…again. But Talia is right. It’s time I face this thing.
Me: I’ll be here still. Thursday works for me.
Callum: Is two okay? I have to sign a few things after practice.
Me: Two works for me.
God, Chloe. Works for me? Is that all you can say? Ugh.
Me: I mean, yeah, two is great.
Callum: See you then.
Me: Cool
“Cool?” I groan at my own foolishness, then watch the screen for anything else.
Little dots appear like he’s typing, but after two solid minutes of staring at the screen, nothing comes through. I toss the device aside, then rub the heels of my hands over my eyes, trying to brush away just how embarrassing that was.
It’s amazing how I can do so many remarkable things like travel the world solo, make connections, and write articles for prestigious papers, but the second a cute boy comes around, I turn right back into an insecure teenager.
Then again, I don’t think that feeling has ever left me.
Not even after Callum and I got married, or after he joined the NHL.
He was…well, he was him—a professional hockey player with a larger-than-life career, thousands of people cheering his name in arenas all over.
He was a superstar, and I was just Chloe, the girl who still blushed every time he smiled at me.
I never felt like I was good enough, and in a lot of ways, I still don’t.
My phone chimes again, and I rush to grab it, my heart in my throat as I read the new message.
Callum: I’m really looking forward to seeing you, Clover.
Clover.
Even over text, the nickname sends a shiver down my spine, and it’s hard to imagine a time when I said I hated it. I didn’t then, and I don’t now.
Me: Me too.
And I mean those two words more than I’ve meant anything in a long, long time.
This time, no dots appear, and when nothing has come through an hour later, I accept the fact that he’s not going to text again. I peel myself off the bed so I can try to get some sort of work done, but I still spend the rest of the day checking my phone, hoping to hear from my husband again.