29. Jude
JUDE
I nurse my champagne cocktail, leaning back against the bar of the hotel ballroom where my father’s medical awards dinner is being hosted.
I made it through dinner by chatting with the friendly female surgeon I was sitting beside.
She’s the youngest specialist in reconstructive surgery.
A fact my father delighted in telling me when he introduced us.
The undercurrent in his tone wasn’t lost on me.
“Look what you could have been, Jude. If you’d only listened to me and stayed in medical school.
” But the usual feeling of my father’s crushing disappointment is still something I’d gladly endure over being seated beside Callum.
I knock back my drink to disguise my shudder, before signaling the bartender for another.
Callum was seated on the other side of the table, a few seats away, thankfully.
I was expecting him to be in his usual place, opposite my father, and beside me.
Maybe Mom managed to tweak the seating. I’m not sure I could have made it through dinner without stabbing him in the hand with my fork.
The lack of proximity didn’t deter him, though.
I felt his eyes on me through all five courses.
And when I went to the restroom, he excused himself and followed me.
The only reason I spoke to him at all was because the bathroom door got stuck and I had to yell through it for him to get someone to help.
Luckily, I’d managed to force the door by the time he returned with my father, so I didn’t need to waste any more breath talking to him, even though he tried. Callum always liked getting his own way, but he needs to accept we are finished. He has Kelly to massage his delicate ego now. I’m done.
Sipping my new drink, I cast my eyes around the room. It’s filled with medical professionals, all commended within their individual fields.
I couldn’t feel more out of place if I put a fake dorsal fin on and tried to blend in at a SeaWorld show.
“Jude?”
I turn and smile at the older gentleman who was sitting beside my father at dinner.
“Dr. Kingman. Did you come for a champagne cocktail? They’re good. Strong,” I say.
He signals the bartender. “Brandy is more my drink of choice. But I understand the need for something strong. These awards things are just a pompous show of dick-swinging in my opinion. Sorry.”
He holds his hands up, but I chuckle.
He’s a neurosurgeon whom I’ve met at dinners like this a few times over the years, and I can tell he likes them as much as I do. Only, he doesn’t drag his wife and adult children here like my father does. Like we need to be on display. The perfect surgeon’s family.
“Two drinks after dinner, and a lap of the room, then I’m out of here,” he says in a low voice.
I tilt my glass to his and clink.
“We have the exact same plan.”
Companionable silence falls as we drink together, both dreaming of our escape. If more of the people I met at these events were like Dr. Kingman and the female surgeon I was seated beside, they might actually be enjoyable.
“How are the new upgrades coming along?”
I look at him in surprise.
“Your father mentioned you’re working on some?”
“He did? Oh, yes, we are. Trials are done and we’ll be upgrading the system soon. It’s been a huge project,” I tell him, glancing in my father’s direction. He’s standing with my mother, engrossed in a conversation with a group of people.
“I’ll look forward to it completing. My secretary said your system has been a game changer.”
“That’s great.” The team and I have worked hard to get the patient records program to what it is, and to hear firsthand from the medical professionals using it makes all the effort worthwhile.
I was concerned we wouldn’t get the final injection of funding we needed to take it to completion.
But it came from an anonymous donor while I was in South Africa.
So it was all systems go once I returned.
“Good to see you, Jude. Wish me luck in making it out of here undetected.”
Dr. Kingman places his glass on the bar and throws me a cheeky smile like a naughty schoolboy skipping class, despite him being close to sixty years old.
I smile into my drink as I watch him skillfully exit the room without getting drawn into any conversations.
“Kingman one, stuffy awards, zero,” I hum under my breath.
I place my drink down, my confidence boosted by his successful departure.
My father won’t expect me to say goodbye.
This is how it goes at these things. As long as I stay for dinner, make some polite small talk, and don’t embarrass him, then he doesn’t say anything about me sneaking off early.
Usually he and Callum are too busy to notice I’ve gone.
Callum used to slide into bed late after these events, insisting he needed to stay and network.
Maybe it was the stroke to his ego he got being around all the top players in his field that did it, but he'd always want to have sex when he got back.
I’ve never been so excited to be going home for a night alone after one of these events.
Stepping out onto the sidewalk in the evening air after collecting my coat, I look at the couple the hotel doorman is hailing a cab for. I step in their direction so I can be next in line.
“Jude?”
“Callum?” My stomach sinks as I turn.
His eyes drop over my black velvet dress and the thigh-high slit on one side.
“Are you leaving already?”
“Seeing as I’m about to get in a cab, I’d say your powers of deduction are impeccable.”
He ignores my sarcasm, stepping closer and lowering his voice so the people exiting the hotel behind him don’t hear.
“Can we talk?”
“About?”
“Us.”
“I think we’ve said all that needs to be said about where you’ve been sticking your dick lately, don’t you?”
He blows out a breath, pushing a hand back through his hair and looking suitably uneasy. “Jude.” He glances to the side, aware of the people nearby, before taking hold of my elbow and steering me to one side.
Shaking him off, I scowl at him as I lose my place in line and the people behind me get what would have been my cab.
“I don’t know what you want to talk about?”
Callum’s brow furrows in thought, and his next words have bile rising from my stomach.
“The apartment. Our apartment.” He drags the word our out, leaving its implication hanging heavily in the air.
I rub at my temple, the threat of a headache looming. Of course this was going to come up. Both our names are on the lease for the apartment.
“I’ll speak to the leasing company and get you removed from the paperwork,” I tell him.
He rears back, brows shooting up. “You can’t afford that place on your own. Come on, it’s time to stop, you’ve made your point.”
I stare at him, a list of expletives to call him on the tip of my tongue. He’s ignorant to the fact that I can afford it myself, thank you very much. It’s an example of how he doesn’t see my job as a ‘real’ profession that can pay the bills, like his does.
“That’s for me to figure out. And I don’t know what you mean by ‘made your point’. This isn’t a game, Callum. You and me are over.”
He flashes a charming smile to a couple I recognize as they pass, giving us quizzical looks, before bringing his attention back to me.
“Let’s talk over here.” His jaw hardens and he places a hand against my lower back with forced authority and leads me away from the main hotel entrance and around a corner into an alleyway.
I’m too busy glaring up at him as he marches us away to notice the uneven concrete on the ground.
My ankle twists and I fall hard, landing in a heap on the floor, my face taking the brunt of the impact.
“Jesus, are you okay?”
The concern in Callum’s voice is genuine as he helps me up. My cheek throbs and I lift my hand to it, wincing at the flash of heat in my skin.
“It’s not bleeding, but we should get you inside, look in the light,” he says.
I wave away his concern, moving out of his grip.
“I’m fine. Just say what it is you wanted.”
He places his hands on his hips, looking uncertain as he frowns at my throbbing cheek.
“Jude,” he starts, in a soft voice, one I used to love hearing say my name. He even looks handsome in his bow tie and dinner jacket.
But I know beneath the pretty exterior is a man who wouldn’t know the value of fidelity if it throat-punched him.
“We can get past this. You know we’re good together.”
I fight not to roll my eyes. Here we go again.
“Would you be saying that if my father worked in Wendy’s flipping burgers?”
“What?” Callum’s brow creases in confusion.
“Never mind,” I mutter. “Look, I’d like to keep the apartment. I can sort the paperwork. You won’t need to do anything.”
“Ju—”
“We are not getting back together, Callum. Not even if you grovel for a decade.” His brows quirk, like he has an idea. “Or for a century,” I add.
“You’re sure?”
The pathetic slump of his shoulders almost makes me feel sorry for him.
“One hundred percent.”
He blows out a breath. “She’s nothing compared to you, you know that, right?”
Despite everything, a pang of sympathy for Kelly tugs at my gut. She was prepared to lose friends over Callum. To be the other woman. And for what? For him to talk about her like she means nothing.
“Goodbye, Callum,” I say, walking past him.
“Jude.” He grabs my arm, pulling me back to him.
“Let me go,” I say slowly, the overwhelming fumes of alcohol on his breath hitting me in the face.
“We’re meant to be together,” he slurs a little.
His grip tightens on my upper arm as he looks at me. His eyes sheen with an out of focus glassiness I didn’t see before.
I swallow. “Callum. You’re hurting me. Let go.”
I pull my arm, but he holds it tighter, making my flesh sting.
I mentally go through the contents of my purse.
I have an attack alarm in there. But maybe it’ll be better to kick him in the shin with my stiletto.
This is Callum. In all the years I’ve known him, he’s never been violent, and I don’t think he’s trying to hurt me now.
He’s just drunk and not thinking clearly.
“Let me go,” I demand, pulling my arm again.
“I’m nothing without you, Jude,” he says, his face crumpling as he drops his forehead against mine clumsily.
I wince at the small thud as they come together.
“Callum,” I try again.
But he’s snaked his other hand around the back of my neck and is holding me in place.
“Forgive me. Come back to me,” he says, before crushing his lips to mine.
I pull back as much as I can, but he’s too strong. I’m pinned in his grip like an animal in a trap.
“Stop it!” I mumble against his mouth. His uncoordinated tongue slides into my mouth, filling it with the taste of stale liquor. One of my arms is pinned in place by his, so I use my free one to shove his chest.
“Sto—”
My plea is overpowered again by his sloppy, forceful kiss.
“Callum, please,” I beg, a hint of panic creeping into my voice.
He drops me and moves back so fast that I stagger, before gaining my balance.
“What the hell?” I gasp, looking up and seeing what made Callum move so fast.
It isn’t just us in the alleyway anymore.