Chapter 30
Thirty
Now
This was ridiculous. Yes, she was a frequent contestant on reality shows, which meant she lived in a stunted world, a world of oddly coiffed toddlers.
But that didn’t mean she wasn’t a grown woman.
She should not be standing outside a bakery like a teenager waiting to see if her crush would smile at her.
‘Get a grip,’ she muttered.
She knocked. The door opened, and there was Mae, looking everywhere except at Callie.
Callie realised she was in no way prepared for the we kissed and now what part.
‘Morning,’ Callie said carefully as she walked in.
‘Hi,’ Mae said, voice maddeningly neutral. ‘Crew’s due shortly.’
No mention of last night? Well, that was fine. And excruciating.
Before Callie could decide whether to apologise or make a joke or faint onto the floor, Neil appeared from the kitchen like a jubilant meerkat.
‘Callie! Fantastic. You look…’ his eyes swept over her. ‘…tired.’
‘Thank you,’ Callie said flatly.
But Neil wasn’t listening. He was rubbing his hands together with the energy of a man who’d put a five-hour energy drink into a latte, something Callie had watched him do with utter horror on several occasions.
‘Sam’s on his way,’ he chirped. ‘And he’s completely fawn. So, let’s make some romance!’
Callie stole a look at Mae. Mae’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
Callie’s mouth had gone dry. ‘Right. Romance.’ How was she meant to flirt with Sam when her brain was still replaying the sound Mae made when they kissed?
Then the bell above the bakery door jingled, and Sam was among them.
‘Morning!’ he called, beaming as he stepped inside. ‘Wow, it smells incredible in here!’
‘Hi,’ Callie greeted him.
He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.
‘God, I’m so sorry about yesterday. That tanning consultant shouldn’t be allowed near human skin.
My agent’s on about suing.’ And he continued his tale for a further ten minutes while the crew filtered in, talking about his misadventures in the tanning salon in more detail than anyone could want or need.
Callie nodded and said, ‘Mmm,’ and ‘That’s crazy,’ in all the right places, her peripheral vision finding Mae at every moment, watching her try to get out of the way of the crew.
Last night’s kiss felt suddenly impossible. Like something she’d dreamed and then woken from too soon.
But then Sam’s story took a pause, and she turned, meeting Mae’s eye. And Callie saw it. The fear in Mae.
Callie was glad. It wasn’t just her who was scared. That meant something. Didn’t it?
Back Then
Callie sat on the grass beneath the ash tree, her back against the trunk.
It felt good to be out. She’d been stuck inside all day, but now her brother was asleep back home, snoring softly through his cold, tissues scattered around the sofa.
Callie was grateful for his unconsciousness.
He was a demanding patient. But her mother was due back to tag in soon, so Callie was released. At least until her shift at the pub.
But she had thirty minutes, maybe forty, stolen between responsibilities. A pocket of time that belonged only to them.
Footsteps crunched on the path. Callie turned with a smile.
Mae was coming across the grass. There was flour on her sleeve.
Callie felt a ridiculous rush in her chest. How could this be someone she’d known all her life? And how could she not have seen until recently how goddamn sexy Mae was?
The sex had probably helped with that.
Not because it had been perfect, they’d both been a little nervous to cross that line, and it had occasionally shown. But it had been charged with a tenderness and care that Callie had never known. She’d felt cherished. Which, it turned out, was endlessly erotic.
Mae spotted her, and something in her face softened. Like she’d been holding herself together all afternoon and could finally stop.
‘Hey,’ Callie said. ‘How was baking boot camp?’
Mae sank beside Callie with a tired huff. ‘If I never hear the phrase “just a small adjustment” again, it’ll be too soon.’
‘Bad?’
‘Nine loaves,’ Mae said. ‘Nine. For what was meant to be a two-hour lesson. Apparently, yeast behaves differently depending on vibes.’
‘I’ve always said that,’ Callie said dryly.
Mae snorted, rubbing her forearm as she sat down next to Callie, shoulders touching. ‘My arm’s going to fall off.’
Callie’s eyes flicked to the flour dusting Mae’s sleeve. ‘You smell like bread.’
‘Ugh.’
‘It’s nice,’ Callie said, and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek.
Mae rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.
They sat there for a moment, shoulders touching, the pond murmuring beside them. The ash tree’s leaves shifted overhead, and a caterpillar fell out, dropping with a small thud.
‘How’s your brother?’ Mae asked.
Callie groaned, tipping her head back against the trunk. ‘Still alive. Still furious about missing coding camp. I spent three hours watching him rebuild the same stupid game level while he sneezed because he “might as well practise”.’
‘Does he understand he has to rest to get better?’
‘Nope. But then he fell asleep mid-rant about a bug,’ Callie said. ‘I truly don’t know what he’s talking about half the time. Which is nice. He’s growing up.’
Mae smiled properly at that. ‘You’re a nice sister.’
‘Don’t tell him that. I want him to fear me. It’s the only way I can get him to rinse the sink after he brushes his teeth.’
They lapsed into an easy quiet, the kind that only existed under the tree. Callie watched her, thinking, Should I bring it up?
‘If you let him teach you how to make bread, he’ll think you’re staying,’ Callie said eventually.
‘I know,’ Mae said quietly.
Callie’s bum cheeks clenched tight as she asked. ‘Are you staying?’
Mae looked at her. ‘No,’ she said quietly.
The word landed, and, for a heartbeat, Callie couldn’t tell whether it was relief or terror she felt most.
Mae drew her knees up, wrapping her arms around them, gaze fixed on the pond. ‘I’m going with you,’ Mae said into the pond.
‘Mae,’ Callie said, her smile growing to Cheshire cat proportions. ‘This is going to be great.’
Mae reached out then, grabbing Callie’s hand. ‘I think so too. But Jesus, the thought of telling my dad makes me feel sick.’
Callie heard doubt. ‘You don’t have to do this for me.’
‘I know,’ Mae said immediately. ‘I want this. I want to go with you. I love you, and I want to go with you.’
Callie was so relieved she could cry. ‘I love you too.’
Mae leaned in, forehead resting against Callie’s. ‘It will be okay, won’t it? He won’t, like, disown me?’
Callie tutted. ‘My mum and your dad are going to be unhappy, but we’re adults. They need to let us go.’
Mae smiled, then kissed her. It felt like a promise.