9. Callie
Chapter 9
Callie
I am the dumbest girl in all of Boston.
I had one of the hottest guys I’ve ever seen in my apartment fixing stuff and wanting to help me cook and I sent him away. Why? Why did I do that? I mean, really, who would it have hurt if Will stayed?
The thought of Will in my kitchen…shirtless… Okay, I know he wouldn’t actually be shirtless, but this is my daydream, so whatever.
It’s probably best that he left. I’m not interested in dating another baseball player. And this meal is about me and my brother. He’s done a lot for me over this past year, and I want to prove to him—and myself—that me showing up on his doorstep a few months ago wasn’t a bad thing.
Turning back to my kitchen I’m more determined than ever to actually cook this fucking food. It might not be the extravagant meal our personal chef would make growing up, but it would be good. Wyla sent me recipes. I can do this. I can do hard things!
Getting everything out on the counter I think I’ll start with the mashed potatoes. The idea seems simple enough. I put a pot on the stove to boil—turning on the right burner this time—then go back to Wyla’s text. Step one: peel potatoes. Fuck.
I don’t have a peeler here. I didn’t think to buy one. I’m pretty sure I’ll lose a finger if I use a knife.
We’re off to a great start here, Cals.
Ugh, okay, maybe something else will be better. But as I look around it becomes abundantly clear that my kitchen is not prepared to cook this meal. Can opener? Don't have one. Measuring cups and spoons? Not one. Apparently, I only thought about buying pretty things and basic necessities.
Fuckity, fuck, fuck.
I could go to Adam’s and cook it in his apartment. His came fully furnished so it should have everything. But then that puts me back at going to my brother to rescue me. And I don’t have the time or the money to get all of this stuff right now.
Swallowing down every bit of pride I have I walk out my door to go knock on the door of the only other person I know that has a fully stocked apartment.
The knock feels full of regret. He’s going to tell me no, I’m sure of it. Why did I even think this was a good idea?
I’m halfway into my turn to run back to my apartment when Will opens the door. “Callie?”
Shit.
Turning back, I try to cover the fact that I was mid ding-dong-ditch with an overly happy, “Hi!” Ugh, can I crawl in a hole and die right now?
“Hi?” Will leans against his door frame and it’s annoying to me how sexy that is for no damn reason.
“Hi.” Damn it, I’ve already said that. “I…uh…well, you know how I said I wasn’t a hot mess?”
The corners of his mouth tug into a smile ever so slightly. “I don’t hear your fire alarm so I’m assuming this mess isn’t life threatening?”
God, I’m a disaster. My shoulders slump and I don’t have the willpower to fake positive right now. “I just want to make some food for me and Adam. I wanted to prove that I could do it without any help, but my apartment didn’t come fully stocked like yours so I’m missing things I need. I know I could ask Adam, but I’ve asked him for so much this year. I just wanted to do it, because damn it, I can do hard things. But I just…”
I look down at the floor as I trail off and wait for the door to slam in my face, but instead, Will laughs. “What do you need?”
Looking up I try not to show too much schoolgirl happiness. “Something to peel potatoes, some measuring cups…and spoons. Oh, and a strainer and mixer!”
Leaning off the door frame, he smirks. “Anything else? Kitchen sink, maybe?”
“Honestly, maybe.” And with that small joke a smile spreads over Will’s face. Damn, he should do that more often.
“Head back to your place. I’ll bring everything over.”
Holding back a hug, I decide on a simple, “Thank you.”
Well, he’s not shirtless, but Will still looks damn good in my kitchen. He brought over everything I asked and besides the small jokes in his doorway, he came with no more snide remarks or judgmental stares. Not to mention, he’s let me do the bulk of the cooking, only helping when I ask.
I fully anticipated him coming in here and taking everything over, but he’s let me take the lead from the start. I didn’t know how much I needed it to be that way until he said, “Okay, tell me what to do.”
One small part of me really wanted to make a joke asking if he takes instructions this well in bed, but I will absolutely not go there. There must be boundaries if we are going to be friends.
Because that’s what we are…right?
Will pulls the rolls out of the oven as I finish whipping the mash potatoes. “Okay, I’ve got about twenty more minutes before I’ve got to get to my mom’s. What do you need next?”
“Oh my gosh, Will, I completely forgot you have an hour drive.” I feel like such an asshole taking up his entire holiday. “Please, go ahead. I can finish?—”
“Callie. What do you need next?” The look on Will’s face tells me not to argue, and I honestly don’t want to. I’ve liked having him help. It’s almost as if he’s calmed my chaos down.
Earlier when I was too preoccupied in making the marshmallows pretty on the yams, he had already preheated the oven and cleaned up the mess I made with the brown sugar.
“Could you possibly get one of the nicer bowls out of that cabinet?” I gesture to the tall one behind him. “I can get the chair-step-stool combo if you’d like, though.”
Shaking his head with a small chuckle, he turns around to do as I asked. “I feel like I’m going to need to get you a life alert necklace anytime you think you need to climb to reach something.”
“Help. I’ve fallen and I can’t get up,” I mock, and that smile is on his face again when he brings me the bowl. Dear Lord.
“What?” he asks, snapping me out of my stare.
Shit, I blink out my daze. “Nothing. I…um… So, your mom’s? What do you guys do for Thanksgiving?”
Rounding the island to the opposite side, Will shrugs. “Nothing too crazy. It’s typically me, my mom, and sisters. We don’t have a lot of extended family up here. Most of my extended family lives down in Florida.”
“Really? And you don’t travel down there for the holidays?”
“Eh, my mom isn’t really into the idea of big family functions. We went down a few times growing up, but honestly, I like it better just the four of us not cramming into a way-too-small beach house where my grandparents insist on keeping the A/C set to seventy-five.”
“Oh, yup. I can see that.” I half laugh because that does sound a bit like torture, but then again, it seems more normal than any holiday I’ve ever had.
Picking up on my mood shift, Will speaks softly. “So, your parents…”
I look at him as he trails off. I’m not sure if he doesn’t know what to say or is waiting for me to finish the sentence but I don’t really know how to.
“We might not have spent much time together, Callie, but I’ve been Adam’s teammate for five years. It might not seem like it, but I pay attention. I know he doesn’t speak to them anymore. I just wasn’t sure if that extended to you too.”
Swallow your tears, Callie. You’ve been entirely too emotional around this man today alone.
“It didn’t always…it does now. But it’s fine.” I look around my kitchen at the small meal on my island. “I know it might seem like the saddest Thanksgiving meal ever, but it will be the first one I get to enjoy in sweats and not cocktail attire making small talk with snooty rich people.” Or get the small unnecessary touches from the sleazy husbands.
“Your dad’s in finance, right?”
“Yup,” I say, popping the p. “I hate even saying it, but the Reyer’s are old money rich. My great-great grandfather started the company and each generation’s grown it since. Frankly, his story wasn’t exactly rags to riches. It seems a silver spoon was shoved in his mouth too.”
When Will doesn’t say anything, I can’t help the word vomit. I haven’t talked about my family in so long and as I’m staring at this food, I just get angrier.
“At about this time, I’d probably have heard at least three ‘Calliope, sit still,’ probably six ‘Calliope, smile more,’ and ten ‘Calliope, why don’t you let me talk?’ I have a fucking master’s degree from Yale but can’t be trusted to have a conversation with the women of the DAR or the slimy husbands who look me up and down before speaking.”
I angrily reach for the rag on the counter, wiping my hands, still on a fucking roll. “Then after the dad’s got a good look, my mother would have dragged me around introducing me to all their equally touchy sons who only like to talk about themselves. So, yeah, this meal might be sad, but at least it’s not that.”
Sighing I throw my rag on the counter feeling like I got this elephant off my chest. I look up and Will’s staring at me with an emotionless look on his face. Oh my goodness, I’ve completely lost it. Why did I just word vomit on him?
Forget being a hot mess, I’ve been a dumpster fire around him today and now he’s just staring at me.
“I’m sorry, I got carried away.”
“Don’t,” he snaps.
Rolling my shoulders back, I’m a little stunned at his tone. “Excuse me?”
“Don’t apologize. The words ‘I’m sorry’ should never come out of your mouth to excuse someone else’s actions.”
My mouth opens but no words come out. I hadn’t really thought of it that way. Apologizing almost feels like second nature to me. I trauma dumped on him—thankfully excluding the issue with my ex—and just gave him way more than he asked for.
“While we’re at it”—Will walks toward me—“don’t apologize for men’s actions, the unwelcomed ones, in particular. Don’t say you're sorry for voicing your opinions or not smiling when you don’t feel like it. And don’t you ever let anyone talk for you.”
He’s angry…but not at me. Will’s angry for me. Angry with me, actually. Well, there’s that need to hug him again.
“You know what they say about habits.”
Will’s hand lifts, hovering for a moment as if he wants to touch me but stops before he brings it behind his neck.
Holy fuck. He was going to touch me but stopped because I was talking about men’s unwelcome advances.
I hadn't intended it to be a new boundary that also applied to him . Will has never made me feel uncomfortable in a way that has me questioning my safety, but he was listening so intently to what I was rambling on about that it affected him.
Fuck it, I’m hugging him anyway.
Not allowing myself time to chicken out, I wrap my arms around his waist. “Thank you,” I whisper.
I count one then two before his arms finally hug me back. “You’re welcome, Callie.”