Chapter 23 Now
Twenty-Three
Now
Mae was halfway through brushing her teeth when someone knocked on her door.
She froze. Nobody knocked on her door at night. Not unless something was wrong.
She spat, rinsed and padded barefoot across the flat.
The knock came again. ‘Jesus, give me a second.’ Mae opened the door. And there, on her doorstep, stood Callie.
For a second, Mae just stared.
‘Hi,’ Callie said softly, hands jammed awkwardly into her jacket pockets.
Mae blinked. ‘Are you lost?’ she said flatly.
Callie laughed dryly. ‘Nope.’
Mae tightened her grip on the door, halfway between holding it open and slamming it shut.
‘What do you want, Callie?’
Callie didn’t answer immediately.
Callie’s eyes flicked over Mae—pyjamas, bare feet, undone hair—and Mae got a nice little shot of embarrassment.
‘I need to talk to you,’ Callie said finally.
Mae’s mouth flattened. ‘Let me guess,’ she said. ‘Neil sent you.’
Callie gave the smallest, guiltiest nod.
Mae let out a sharp, humourless laugh. ‘Unbelievable,’ she muttered. ‘He couldn’t bully me into changing my mind, so he sent you instead. Work me from the personal angle? Jesus, is there really not anywhere else you can pretend to fancy someone for the cameras?’
‘I didn’t want to come here,’ Callie said quietly. ‘But the shoot falls apart without you. We really do need tomorrow.’
‘I’m done,’ Mae said sharply enough to cut the air. ‘I don’t owe them another day. I don’t owe you another day.’
Callie stared at her for a long moment, expression unreadable but far too soft around the edges.
‘Mae,’ she said quietly, ‘can we just… talk? Inside? Please?’
The word came out instinctively, a shield. ‘No.’
‘Please,’ Callie murmured. ‘Just five minutes.’
‘As if I owe you a second,’ she said bitterly.
Callie looked down, defeated.
Mae hated how that pulled at her. She hated that she still felt anything at all.
She stepped back. ‘Five minutes,’ Mae said finally. ‘Then you go.’
Callie looked surprised for a moment. And then crossed the threshold.
Back Then
Mae was behind the counter, staring blankly at the sausage rolls.
Mrs Carter stepped up to the counter with her usual gentle smile. ‘Morning, dear. Could I have a blueberry muffin, please?’
Mae reached into the display cabinet with full confidence, grabbed something, bagged it, and handed it over.
Mrs Carter peered inside the bag. ‘Mae… sweetheart… this is a cheese scone.’
Mae took back the bag. ‘It… is?’
Mrs Carter nodded kindly. ‘Unless your muffins are just very off.’
‘Right,’ Mae said, heat rising up her neck. ‘Sorry, Mrs Carter, I’m… I’m just a bit… Didn’t sleep.’
‘Everything all right?’ the woman asked.
No. Everything was upside down and backwards and dipped in panic.
‘Yes,’ Mae lied, swapping the wrong thing for the right thing.
Mrs Carter chuckled. ‘You should have a cup of tea and a little sit-down. You’ll be okay.’
‘I’ll do that,’ Mae said weakly. As soon as the woman left, and the place was empty, Mae let her forehead drop onto the counter with a soft thunk.
And as if summoned by cosmic comedy timing, her phone buzzed violently in her apron pocket.
She pulled the phone free.
I’m outside.
Mae’s heart stopped. Slowly, she looked toward the door. And there was Callie, standing on the pavement, hands shoved in her coat pockets. When she saw Mae looking, she gave a tiny, frightened wave.
Mae was pretty sure the cheese scone incident was about to be the least embarrassing part of her morning.
She wiped her palms on her apron and went to the door. ‘You know, we’re open for business. You could have just walked in?’
Callie laughed. ‘Felt weird. Like I needed permission to enter.’
‘You’re thinking of vampires,’ Mae said, trying for her usual dryness. It felt weak.
She stood back, allowing Callie to step inside.
Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, and she looked tired.
But she was beautiful in a way Mae’s brain could barely process.
It was like her eyes had been glued shut for the whole of her life, and now a little white spirit had been applied and boom.
Those suckers were open, letting all the light in. And it was nearly too much.
‘Hi,’ Callie said.
Mae’s tongue had apparently forgotten how to work. ‘Hi,’ she managed after a pause long enough to be rude. ‘You’re… early. Not needed at home?’
‘Just dropped George off at his coding club.’ Callie shifted her weight. It was unnerving, seeing her like this. Off-balance.
Mae nodded. ‘Do you want a coffee?’
‘I want about seventeen,’ Callie said.
‘I didn’t sleep either,’ Mae admitted instantly.
Callie smiled. Mae smiled back in a way that felt odd on her face. But it wasn’t like she never smiled, so what the fuck was up with this? Was she discovering, at the grand old age of eighteen, that there were smiles she’d never worn along with the things she’d never felt?
Mae retreated to the machine, grateful for something to do. She could feel Callie’s eyes on her, tracking every tiny movement. Her hands weren’t quite behaving—the jug slipped a little, the cup rattled—but she managed to get liquid into the vessel without real catastrophe.
When she turned back, Callie was leaning on the counter, not quite relaxed, but nearer. Too near and not near enough.
‘Here,’ Mae said, setting the coffee down between them. ‘On the house.’
‘If I’d known all I had to do to get free coffee was kiss you, I’d have done it years ago,’ Callie said.
Mae’s breath caught. ‘Callie.’
‘How would you like me to say it?’ Callie lifted the cup but didn’t drink, fingers curled round it for warmth.
‘No, I just…’ Mae glanced towards the door, as if half the village might immediately burst in.
‘This isn’t private enough for you,’ Callie said, not a question.
A silence settled. Mae watched steam curl up from the coffee between them.
Callie took a deep breath. ‘I just wanted to tell you that I called Emma,’ she said.
Mae’s insides clenched. ‘Oh.’
‘I wanted to end it properly. No ghosting. I told her about you.’
Mae didn’t understand what she was hearing. ‘You told her about me?’
‘I didn’t give her your last name and national insurance number,’ Callie said. ‘But yes. I told her I’d been an idiot. That I was in love with… someone and too much of a coward to face it.’
Mae abruptly forgot they were in a public spot. Fuck ‘em, she thought. She realised she was doing that funny grin again.
Callie stepped around to the gap at the end of the counter, moving with deliberate slowness, as if approaching a skittish animal.
Mae’s heart lurched into her throat.
Callie came to stand in front of her, close enough that Mae could see the smudges of tiredness under her eyes. She had the urge to kiss those dark patches.
‘Mae,’ Callie said, soft but very clear. ‘I am here this morning because I would like to ask you something.’
Mae held her breath.