25. Callum
Callum
I take a fork and dig into the perfect flaky crust that crumbles under my fork but the gooey, honey filling inside keeps it afloat. “Oh, fuck,” I moan when I take a bite, and the sweet syrup mixed with nuts spreads across my tongue like butter. “This is amazing, Sophie!”
That slight blush peeks through her olive skin as she watches me from her spot on the couch with her knees drawn to her chest, her lips quirking into a smile. “Thank you,” she says softly.
“I didn’t know you could cook like this.”
“I can’t.” She lets out a quick laugh. “That is the only thing I know how to make. It’s my favorite dessert, so I always watched my mom make it, begging her for it every other day.
She tried to teach me how to make it nearly every time, but I was always too busy, preferring for her to just do it instead.
” She looks away, her mind traveling far past our living room walls.
“It wasn’t until she passed away that I realized I’ll never taste her baklava again.
I made Vassar teach me how to make it and I’m pretty sure he cut his lifespan in half while doing that.
” Her shoulders shake with a silent laugh as I’m sure memories play in her mind.
After all, that’s all we have left after they leave us.
“I wish you could try hers. Mine’s not half as good. ”
Sophie gives me a sad smile and looks away again, and my heart splits open for her. Because I know how that loss feels.
She looks so small, so vulnerable, so alone in this moment. All I want is to wrap her in my arms and protect her from the ugly world out there, to make sure no one and nothing can hurt her. And yet my own family tried to do just that this evening.
I slide onto the couch and drag her small frame into my lap. She stares at me, surprised but I ignore it and soon enough, she relaxes in my arms.
“How long ago?”
“Not long enough to forget the scent of her skin or how warm her touch was. Or the million Greek little sayings she used to teach us life lessons,” Sophie chuckles silently. “She was the best mom ever.”
“Sounds like it.
“What was her name?” I ask, quietly.
“Valerie.” Sophie sighs, dropping her head to my chest.
“That’s a beautiful name.”
“It is.” I can feel her smile. “Vassar and Kira named their youngest daughter after her.”
“How many kids do they have?”
“Three…but also five.”
“Um, how does that work exactly?”
“It’s a long story and not mine to tell, but if you ever do meet them, you’ll meet the three, Victoria, Killian, and Valerie.”
I nod, understanding and not pushing to learn something that I shouldn’t.
“Three is still a lot of kids. ”
“If you’d ask them, they’d say it’s not enough.” There’s a smile in her voice. “Do you want kids?”
My throat tightens at her question. “No.” The tightness spreads all over my body, in anticipation of her next question. Her inevitable inquiry as to why I don’t want any kids, but once again, Sophie surprises me.
“I want as many as I can have. Do you want to watch something? I don’t feel like sleeping yet.” She changes the subject before I have to come with a response I don’t have.
Does she know that? Can she somehow feel it when I don’t want to talk about something? Because it clearly seems like it.
Clearing my throat, I nod, “Sure. Any hockey on tonight?”
Sophie sends me a grin. “You bet.” She turns on the sports channel, and it’s not her favorite team playing, yet she still picks a team and screams like a banshee every time they don’t score or the puck ends up in their net.
Admittedly, I watch Sophie more than the game tonight while that burn inside me grows from a kindling to a small fire, but I ignore it.
Eventually the game ends, and we start getting ready for bed. And that’s when it hit me.
I groan. “Fuck.”
“What?”
“I forgot to grab my clothes from their house. There’s no way I’m not going back there. So, I guess I’ll just go buy some in the morning.” I sigh.
“No need,” Sophie says.
“What do you mean?”
“I texted Julie while we were driving. They’ll drop some off for you tonight.”
I stare at her in bewilderment. In awe. She did that? She was thinking about me after that shit-show of a dinner? After the things my mom said when I knew how much she wanted to make a good impression. How important this was for her.
At the end she still worried about me and my needs? When I did nothing to deserve it !
Where the hell did this girl come from? With all her color, sass, unique kind of beauty and the biggest heart that she so willingly shares with the world. With me…
Completely overwhelmed with the sudden rush of emotions, I take a quick long step toward her, erasing all distance between us until Sophie’s back was against the wall, her wide, expressive eyes, watching me.
“Clover? What are you—” Her question gets cut off when I slide my hands over her face, cupping it from both sides and kiss her, crushing my lips against hers in that overwhelming need.
Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I realize I’m not acting rational and that I’m not supposed to do it, but none of that matters in this moment.
Sophie tenses, her arms going up in what I assume is a what the hell gesture but that lasts all of a second before I drag my tongue across her lips, parting them, and she allows it, releasing a small moan into my mouth, and I feel her rise on her tiptoes to get more as I get lost in her taste.
I didn’t like kissing. Didn’t do it for over sixteen years, yet her lips, her taste, are like an addiction that draws me in more and more with each time.
I slide my hands from her face toward her neck, gripping it hard as our kiss grows in its ferociousness, until I lace my fingers through those short soft brown strands as I grip them tight, holding Sophie’s head at her nape and angling her mouth just right.
Her arms that tried to fight this earlier are now on my biceps, holding tight, digging into my flesh before she laces them behind my neck and pulls herself up, climbing me like that little monkey until she winds her legs around my waist. Instantly, I catch her, one of my hands releasing her hair to grab a handful of her ass in support and press her further into the wall. And into my ragingly hard cock.
Another moan…mewl…groan from those sweet lips makes it into mine, and I no longer know where her lips begin and mine end.
I want more. I need more. My palm squeezing her supple ass cheek as she clings to me harder, and I shift her over my length, grinding her covered pussy into it and drawing my mouth to hers even closer when there’s already no room left between us, but not close enough.
Bed…we need—
“Sophie? Callum? It’s us, open up.”
Both of us stop at the sound of my sister’s voice, pulling away from each other's lips for just a breaths length as we both try to catch our breath. Our eyes locked in a million silent conversations.
Another knock sounds at the front door.
And the reality crashes into me like a bucket of ice. I was kissing my wife. My fake wife.
Fuck!
I drop my arm from her ass, unwinding the one from her hair as she releases my waist and slides down onto the floor. Neither of us uttering a single word.
With a quick shake to her hair, Sophie walks over to the front door, opening it. “Hey, sorry,” she says, her tone still slightly breathless and I catch the happy glint in my little sister’s eyes. There’s no doubt she knows what kept us so busy we couldn’t open the door right away.
“Oh, that’s all right. You are newlyweds, we get it.” Julie winks, sauntering in with a small bag of my belonging as Griffin follows her with a much larger and much heavier box behind his pregnant wife.
“How is it that I always get roped into moving boxes for your guys’ family?” Griff whines, setting the box on the floor and then lifts his narrowing eyes to mine.
“What?” I ask.
“You’re not going to come back at me with any of your sarcastic, snarky remarks about this being my family and that I got myself into this by being a traitor and more along the line?”
I shrug. “See, you already know it all, why waste my breath.”
“Damn, Sophie, what have you done to the grumpy asshole to make him speechless?” Griffin chuckles, and with the corner of my eye, I catch Sophie biting her lower, kiss-swollen lip, trying to hide a smile.
I roll my eyes at my best friend’s antics, planting my hands on my waist. “Okay, sister-defiler, you can go now. ”
“Ah, Birdy, we interrupted before they got to the good part. The effects wore out too soon.”
“Out!” I point at Griffin who breaks out in belly-deep laugh and my own sister can’t hide hers either. “Both of you!” With more laughs, they head to the door as Sophie thanks them and Julie waves back.
“You’re welcome, you grumpy asshole,” Griff calls out, shutting the door behind them, but before I can even take another breath, Julie opens it again, popping her head in.
“Sophie, I’m sorry tonight went like that.”
“It’s okay.” Sophie offers her a small smile.
“It’s not and I think you’ll find that our mom is quite remorseful over that, but I’ll let her fix it.”
“Oh, she doesn’t have to fix anything. I promise it’s all right.”
“Yeah, I’m afraid that’s not an option. So, brace yourself.” She gives her a sheepish smile before shutting the door again.
Sophie turns to me, worry creasing her face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I shrug. “I guess we’ll see.”
My eyes lock on hers, not thinking about what my sister said, or really, anything. Because I can’t. Not when she’s in the same room as me, apparently.
I’ve lived without it for so long and never craved to feel another person’s lips on mine, to run my hand over another woman’s body. I was content. I was perfectly fine.
Until Sophie came into my life, crushing it like one small colorful wrecking ball.
The urge to walk over to her and resume what we started, taste her lips and feel her skin is so strong I have to use my entire will power well to resist it. Especially when I see it mirrored in her brown eyes.
Instead, I bend down, pick up the box with my clothes, and stroll past her into the bedroom, and dumping it by my side of the bed before I head for the door.
“Um, Clover? Where are you going? ”
“Work. Don’t wait up,” I answer without looking at her, feeling the wild, frantic beat of my heart pounding through every inch of my body.
There’s no work, but I need to get out of here before I do something I can’t take back. Something that will only hurt her in the long run.
I can’t see, but I sure as hell feel Sophie’s confused and hurt expression as I slam the door behind myself.
If there’s one thing I realized after tonight’s dinner is that Sophie is so much more than just a fake wife or means to an end.
Maybe she never was and that’s a problem I didn’t foresee coming. And one I need to stay away from. Because I can never give her what she deserves.
By the time I get back to the apartment, Sophie is long asleep, her small body huddled under that thick duvet. I stand there watching her chest move slowly, her short hair nearly all escaped from the tiny ponytail she always tries to submit it into and now sticks all over her face.
I should sleep on the couch. I should, but damn it, that thing is uncomfortable. At least, that’s what I tell myself as I strip my clothes off and get under the blanket, determined to sleep as far away from her as I can tonight.
Quietly, I try to settle into my spot without disturbing her but somehow my leg still brushes against her feet.
Her freezing cold feet.
Jesus…this girl. I lean down, tuck her icicles under my leg and the last thing I hear as sleep claims me is her relieved, content sigh.