Chapter 69 Astrid
ASTRID
“Could I use your bathroom first?” I run my hand back and forth across my chest, hoping it will ease the tension building there.
I’m terrified. So fucking scared, but I’m not running from this.
I sense what Callan has to tell me is going to turn my world upside down again, and I hope I’m strong enough to deal with it.
“Of course.” He stands. “Follow me.”
I get up, keeping my almost-empty wineglass with me, and follow him across the patio to glass double doors.
I still can’t believe he bought the Whispering Woods and now owns Whispering Lake.
Never in a million years would I have guessed he owned it that night I was outside the gates, annoyed that I’d never get to see my lake again.
He bought it.
Callan owns it.
And he said he did it for us.
I follow Callan into a large game room with a pool table, foosball table, a couple of jukeboxes, a fully-stocked home bar with high stools, and a few couches clustered around coffee tables.
“This is a great room,” I say as we walk across the space toward the door.
“I love what you’ve done with it. It’s really cozy.
” It’s a blend of wood and stone with burnt-orange walls.
Frames house old movie posters, some of Callan’s old jerseys, and funny sayings.
Patterned rugs soften the walnut hardwood floors, and the light fittings are ones I featured on my Insta a few years ago. What a coincidence.
“Thanks. When my friends come over, we mostly spend our time in here.”
We walk out into a long hallway with doors on both sides. Callan opens the closest door and steps aside. “Bathroom. I’ll get us a refill.” He takes my wineglass and shuts the door.
The bathroom is gorgeous with rich cream tiles and a sink built into a counter with wall-to-wall cabinets underneath. The gold-framed mirror is another item I recognize, having showcased it on my page too. Huh.
After attending to business, I step outside, and Callan is waiting for me. “I left our drinks in the living room. I thought you might like a tour?”
“I’d love a tour.”
Not like either of us is delaying this conversation or anything. It’s comforting that he’s nervous too, but it also terrifies me.
The door opposite the bathroom hides a small movie theater with eight recliner chairs, a popcorn machine, a soda stand, and a candy station. “Have to keep this one locked.” He chuckles as he pops the key back on top of the door. “Darcy kept sneaking in and eating all the candy.”
“Freja and Alma would’ve had a field day if they’d had access to this growing up.”
“Truth.” He smiles. “Mum said Freja’s a model and Alma’s in college.”
“Yeah. They’re both doing great, but I miss them. I try to visit Sweden a couple of times a year, but it’s challenging when I’m so busy.”
“I can relate. I try to visit Ireland at least once a year, but it’s getting harder to manage with a thriving business.”
“It’s a great complaint, and you should be proud of yourself.”
“It is, and thanks. It’s great to see all our hard work starting to pay off.” He opens the next door. “This is the gym.”
Callan’s pride in his home is evident as he shows me the playroom, library and study, and two guest bedrooms before we walk into a gorgeous square living room with a plush leather sectional and two matching recliners in front of an open stone fireplace.
A large TV hangs over the mantel. Warm green wood paneling covers all the walls to the halfway point.
Two oak sideboards, on either side of the room, display a ton of framed photos of Callan and Darcy, along with other members of the family and Callan’s friends.
“Got over your aversion to green, huh?” I tease, chewing on the corner of my mouth when I spot several wall hangings, cushions, lamps, and throws that I know I recommended.
“A wise woman once told me that green is a symbol of nature and harmony, and it’s tranquil and calming. Seemed like the perfect color to bring outside inside.” He shrugs, flushing a little as he stares deep into my eyes. “Green has been my favorite color for a while now.”
“I’m glad I converted you to the dark side.” I waggle my brows, looking around my surroundings again. “This is a beautiful room. Did you get inspiration from my Insta page?”
His brows climb to his hairline. “You know I know about that?”
I open my mouth to explain when he beats me to it.
“Meddling mothers,” he mutters, and I can’t help laughing.
“Some things never change.”
“I guess not.” His fingers twitch at his side—with anxiety, I’m guessing. “And yes, I created this house with you in mind, shamelessly stealing a lot of your ideas. I hope you like it?”
Shock renders me speechless for a few seconds. Did he do all this for me? Because that’s what it seems like he’s implying. “It’s a stunning home, Callan. Thanks for showing me around, but I think we should get to the talking part. Delaying it isn’t doing either of our nerves any favors.”
He nods slowly. “Do you want to go back outside or stay here?”
“Let’s stay here.”
I sit on one end of the sectional while Callan sets a fresh glass of wine and a bottle of water down on the end table beside me.
He sits in the middle, kicks off his sneakers, and stretches his legs out.
Tension brackets his mouth as he looks at me.
“I’ve practiced telling you this for such a long time, but now the moment is here, I don’t know where to begin. ”
“You said you didn’t cheat on me.”
“I didn’t.”
“Then tell me how Gwen got pregnant.”
“Do you remember that time you were out with Paige and Tonya, and I called to say I wanted Gwen out, that I’d had enough and she needed to leave?”
“I remember.”
“What I hadn’t told you, because I didn’t want to say it over the phone, was how I’d gotten up for work that morning and found Gwen drunk in the kitchen wearing only a thong.”
I take a big gulp of wine, needing some Dutch courage. “Go on.”
“She didn’t quite make a pass at me, but she told me I could touch her tits and she wouldn’t tell you.”
“That fucking whore!”
“She hadn’t done anything like that before, but I’d been getting weird vibes off her.
She kept going into my room and doing my laundry when I told her I didn’t want her touching my things, so I’d resorted to locking it to keep her out.
Anyway, I left, called you, and then later that night, when I got back to my apartment, Gwen had gotten takeaway from an Italian restaurant, and she had the table set all romantic with candles and flowers.
I let rip, and she got upset, cried, and said she’d found a place and she just wanted to cook me a going-away meal.
I felt a teeny bit bad, so I lied and said it was a nice gesture. ”
“She was a master at manipulating emotions. I analyzed every interaction with her after we broke up, and she’d been playing me for years. Turning on the tears was a favorite of hers.”
“Among other things. I truly believe she’s a sociopath. No one will convince me otherwise. She has no empathy, no compassion, no remorse. It’s all about her, and she’ll stop at nothing to get what she wants.”
“Which was you.”
He nods and gets up, and I notice his hand is quivering. “I need something stronger than beer. Want a whisky?”
“Why the fuck not?” I’m not a big whisky drinker, but I have a feeling I’ll need it too.
After we both have our whisky and the bottle is resting on the coffee table, Callan resumes explaining. “She drugged me.”
“That was one of my theories back in the day and again more recently.”
He knocks back a mouthful of his drink, and my heart hurts when I see the pain on his face. “I don’t want to hurt you any more than I have, Astrid, but I can’t sugarcoat things.”
“I don’t want you to. Just tell me.”
“I woke in my bed, and she was riding me.”
I close my eyes for a second as pain lashes through me. When I open them, Callan is staring at me with tears in his eyes.
I nod, silently telling him to go on. Putting my glass down, I wrap my arms around myself and try to brace for it.
“I thought it was you. My head was a mess, my vision was blurry, and all I could see was long blonde hair. She leaned down, and it was your perfume. Of course, she’d worn it on purpose.
” He barks out a bitter laugh. “I was confused, and I passed out countless times, barely conscious. When I woke the next morning, she was curled up against me, and I was horrified. I threw up all over her.”
I hug myself harder, questioning whether I am strong enough to hear the rest.
“She acted as horrified as me. Cried and said she was sorry she suggested we do vodka shots. Made out like we’d gotten drunk and fallen into bed together.
Except I knew I wouldn’t have gotten drunk with her the night before a match.
I suspected she’d done something to me, but I couldn’t fucking remember, and I had to get to the stadium because I was already late and the manager was doing his nut, blowing up my phone.
By the time I got to the hospital that night to get a drug test, it was too late.
Whatever she’d done to me was no longer in my system, and I had no proof. ”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I should have. That was my first mistake.” He knocks back more of his drink.
“But I was really fucking confused. She was making out like it was consensual, and I didn’t know that it wasn’t.
I’ve never taken drugs. I didn’t know what she’d given me, but my guess is it was GHB or something similar.
I remembered thinking she was you and I…
Fuck.” He puts his drink down and briefly cradles his face in his hands.
“I didn’t know if I’d been into it.” Tears shine in his eyes.
“I thought I had cheated, and I was terrified I was going to lose you. I didn’t know how I’d explain it to you when I couldn’t explain it to myself, because I hated her.
I really fucking hated her, Astrid.” He rubs at his eyes.
“I didn’t know what to do. She was saying we couldn’t tell you, that it was a mistake, and you didn’t need to know because you were her best friend, and this would devastate you, and there was no need to ruin our relationship over a stupid drunken mistake.
Then she dropped the bomb that we didn’t use condoms, and she was ovulating, and she was scared she was pregnant. ”
“She planned it all to trap you.” Just like we thought initially, but Callan denied it.
“Yes. It was all part of her strategy, and she played on my emotions and my confusion perfectly. I fucking hate myself for how easily I let her play me.”
“That makes two of us. Go on.” I take another sip of whisky, welcoming the burn as it glides down my throat.
“She was supposed to move out, but that apartment fell through as well. It was all lies, of course. She wasn’t looking for a place. She had no intention of moving out.”
“You should’ve told me she was still there, but you both lied to me.”
“I couldn’t tell you. You’d have wanted to know why, and I was a wreck.
I was so scared she might be pregnant and terrified of losing you.
I was a total fucking mess. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat.
I was running around the pitch like a strung-out junkie.
My heart was breaking, and I was trying to come up with ways to fix everything.
She was behaving herself, playing the game, and that just fucked with my head more because I knew she was up to something.
I just knew it. I had decided I was going to tell you when you arrived and beg for your forgiveness, hoping you’d believe me.
Then she told me she was pregnant and played her full deck of cards. ”