Chapter 26
Twenty-Six
Now
Callie swallowed hard, throat tight. Had she just yelled, ‘Well, maybe I do want to talk about it!’ at Mae? Had she lost her mind? She was in no position to turn up at Mae’s flat and demand conversations about their past.
But she’d done it now. She was in it.
Mae’s eyes flashed. ‘Talk about what, exactly?’
That was a good repost, because it immediately put Callie on the back foot. But she had to answer. This might be her only chance to spit it out. ‘About, about, you know—’
But Mae wasn’t actually listening. She was raging. ‘You can’t just show up here with your camera crew and your old memories and y-y-your face and act like I’m the one being unreasonable.’
‘My face?’ Callie sputtered.
‘You know what I mean.’
‘I don’t!’
‘You—’ Mae threw up her hands, pacing two steps and back. ‘You make everything complicated just by being here. It’s like being eighteen again, and I don’t want that.’
‘Maybe I don’t want to be eighteen again either!’ Callie shot back. ‘Maybe I came here to actually talk like I should have before—’
Mae laughed without humour. ‘You came here because you had to. Because Neil said so. So don’t give me that.’
Callie’s chest felt tight, and her mouth opened. And out it came, the words slipping out before she could stop them. ‘Yes… I know that’s why I came back. But I wanted it to happen.’
It was the truth. She had been scared. She had been sick. But she had wanted this. Wanted all of it.
‘I wanted to be pushed back to you. Because I never stopped thinking about you,’ she finished, tasting copper in her mouth.
Mae looked terrified. ‘Bullshit.’
‘It’s not!’
They were standing too close now. The argument had dragged them toward each other like gravity. Mae’s breath was uneven. Callie’s was worse.
‘You piss me off so much,’ Mae whispered. ‘You always did.’
‘Good,’ Callie whispered back, though she had no idea why.
Mae’s throat bobbed. ‘I hate this. I hate you being here.’
‘Then tell me to leave.’
‘I should.’
Callie waited. Then Mae grabbed the front of Callie’s coat. And Callie thought, Sweet Jesus, are we coming to violence?
And then Mae’s face crashed into Callie’s. But it wasn’t violence. Not completely.
Callie made a startled sound against Mae’s mouth as her hands flew up, gripping Mae’s waist like she was holding on for dear life. Was she shocked? She must have been. It didn’t really feel that way, though. It was more the sensation of total and utter relief.
It didn’t last long. Maybe seconds. Seconds that lasted forever and the blink of an eye.
When they broke apart, breathing like they’d run miles, Mae whispered, ‘What am I doing?’
‘If it hadn’t been you, it would have been me,’ Callie murmured.
‘No,’ Mae said, stepping back. ‘No, we can’t—’
Callie stepped back too, palms raised, heart thundering.
‘Mae, I’m sorry—’
‘Don’t apologise,’ Mae snapped, running a hand through her hair. ‘I did this. I’ve obviously lost my fucking mind.’
Callie fought the urge to speak. She knew this wasn’t a conversation.
Mae paced around the small room as if trying to outrun the kiss still hanging between them.
‘What a mess,’ she muttered. ‘And I knew. I should have known… This was how it always… the same, the exact same…’ She stopped and half looked at Callie.
‘I hope you don’t think this means I’m saying yes to the cameras,’ she muttered.
Callie laughed, dizzy. ‘Right now, I can’t remember what cameras are.’
Mae exhaled a shaky breath that might’ve been a laugh, too.
Then she stopped it, hard.
‘I need a minute,’ she said. ‘I can’t think.’
‘Yeah,’ Callie said. ‘Me neither.’
They stared at each other.
Back Then
Callie was still sitting exactly where she’d been left: cross-legged on the blanket. The remains of the world’s least edible picnic lay in front of her like a crime scene. Evidence of her incompetence.
As soon as Mae stepped back into view, Callie scrambled upright.
‘You came back,’ she blurted, far too fast.
Mae blinked at her. ‘Of course I came back.’
‘You were gone ages.’
‘It was ten minutes,’ Mae said.
‘It was fourteen,’ Callie said and then realised how she sounded. ‘Let me get rid of this crap,’ she said, getting back down on her knees and shoving aside her embarrassing wares.
Mae began unpacking. Callie watched as she laid out hazelnut croissants, soft blueberry muffins, cheese-filled rolls and mini fruit tarts, filled with creamy custard and topped with fresh, glistening berries. ‘Just a few bits’
Callie was so embarrassed. ‘This is… very nice.’
Mae shrugged. And then she looked around. ‘I should have grabbed some cans. Damn.’
Callie went into her bag and pulled out a wine bottle and two paper cups. ‘I do have wine.’
‘That’s not from the mart,’ Mae said.
‘Nope. Got it from the pub. It’s a nice one. Though you should know I nicked it.’
Mae smiled at her, melting Callie a little. ‘I can’t believe you’re only mentioning this now.’
Callie poured. ‘So, I got something right.’ She sighed as she passed Mae a drink.
‘Stop it,’ Mae said. And then, more meaningfully, ‘You didn’t mess anything up.’
Callie took a sip of wine and tried not to cry.
And they ate, shoulder to shoulder, plates of crumbs growing around them. They chatted, same as always.
When they were full, they leaned back against the tree. The afternoon had brought a cooling breeze that lifted a strand of Callie’s hair. Mae brushed it back without a thought. And they both looked at each other and laughed.
Something shifted.
‘Mae,’ Callie whispered. ‘Can I…?’ She didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t dare.
‘Yes,’ Mae said. ‘You can.’
She should have just gone ahead, but she found herself not quite able to take the permission. ‘What if someone sees?’
Mae shrugged. ‘Let them.’
Callie kissed her. Not the desperation of the bakery. This was deliberate and gentle, soft and sexy. It was the beginning of something they’d both been moving toward for years.