CHAPTER FORTY
Sutton
“Where are you taking me?” I laugh as he parks the topless Jeep in an empty parking lot on the opposite side of the island from Ocean’s Edge.
“Don’t worry about it.” He reaches out a hand to me. “Just come with me.”
We trek down a trail where native plants tangle around our legs, and we have to push them away so they don’t hit our faces. Our laughter is the only sound as I follow him until I utter a soft “Oh,” when we reach the clearing.
We’re on a small patch of beach where a hammock hangs between what looks like two strategically placed palm trees.
And the hammock is set up to overlook a small sand bluff above the sea.
To the left is a pile of rocks that I have to give a double take because of their precarious stacking that gives the illusion of a man’s profile.
But best of all, is the view I can already tell it will have of the sunset.
“Callahan.” I take a few steps forward and admire the view. “This is breathtaking.”
“It is, isn’t it?” He steps up beside me. “Our wine vendor told me about it at one of my dinner meetings. It’s a friend of a friend of his who owns the land or something like that.”
“Just when I thought this place couldn’t get any more incredible, you give me this.”
A shy smile ghosts over his lips and our gazes hold.
“I can’t exactly take you out on a date because people might see us—and on this island, everybody knows somebody—but I can give you this.
” He holds up the bag he’s carrying in his hand.
“Some wine. Some cheese and crackers. A sunset. And some company to enjoy it with.”
“I’d like that.” The words are hard to get out, and I’m so grateful my voice doesn’t relay the emotion swelling inside of me.
Our days are numbered. He knows that, I know that, but we’ve yet to address the huge elephant in the room.
We make small talk as we sip wine and eat.
We give theories about how the rocks were stacked just so and discuss how relieved Brady is going to be to have us out of his hair when we’re gone.
We talk about Keone and his astute instincts.
We discuss my top-ten list and what are my favorites for reasons other than business.
Small talk.
Insignificant.
Filling space.
And when the sky turns deep pinks, purples, and oranges as the sun begins to dip, we both lean back in the hammock next to each other, his arm behind my head and wrapped around my shoulders. We fall into a comfortable silence.
The breeze whirls around us as Mother Nature puts on a show.
“I’m sorry our last days have been me being sick and you taking care of me,” I finally say. “Thank you.”
He presses a kiss on the crown of my head.
“To be honest, I’ve enjoyed hanging at the villa with you.
We’ve spent so much of our time here avoiding being at the same place at the same time, that it was just nice being with you without having to watch every look I give you or word I say to you. No outside noise. Just you. Just me.”
“It has,” I murmur, enjoying the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear where it rests on his chest. The sun keeps falling, and I keep waiting to find the courage to bring that elephant front and center.
There are five days left, and we’ve yet to say a freaking word about what happens after that.
And while I know that expiration date looms, I still need to hear it from him.
I still need to hear the tone of his voice and feel like I matter.
Like this matters. Because every part of me feels that I do, that it does, but it feels like Callahan is purposely ignoring it so he doesn’t have to face it.
Bite the bullet, Sutton.
“So have you decided where you’re off to after this?” I ask. Definitely not the question I need to voice, but it’s a start.
“Not yet.” He runs a finger up and down my arm. He hesitates as if he has more to say, but nothing comes.
“I’m sure wherever you’ll go, you’ll find what you need there.” I try to keep the sadness from my voice, try to prevent the tears that are welling from spilling over . . . try to keep it together. “Wine,” I say and awkwardly get out of the hammock. “I need more wine.”
I occupy my fidgeting hands by pouring more wine into my glass but not even taking a sip of it. He shifts behind me. I hear his footsteps in the sand, but I keep my eyes focused on the sunset in front of us.
Ask me to go.
Tell me you’ll stay.
Say something.
“This doesn’t have to be it, Collins,” he says, as my heart constricts in my chest. “I’ll be in and out of Manhattan. The States. We can make this work. We can—”
I turn and put a finger on his lips to stop him. His eyes search mine. They are laden with an earnestness, a hope, I never expected to see, so this only makes it harder for me to do what I need to do.
He’s saying the words I wanted to hear, but deep down, I know they’re just words. Deep down I know I deserve more, better . . . everything.
So much has changed in such a short time for me that I’m not afraid to raise the bar for myself. I spent years with Clint, afraid to want more, to aspire for more because I feared his reaction to it.
But I look at the man before me. The handsome, powerful man standing here who thinks he’s callous and selfish and without purpose, but who I know to be the exact opposite.
He’s empowering and encouraging and has helped instill a confidence in me that I’ve never had before.
A self-assurance that I’m not ashamed of.
He’s shown me it’s okay to want more. That there is nothing wrong with that.
And even more importantly, I know I can voice that confidence right now without fear of being belittled for it.
Deep down, I know he’ll understand why I’m about to say the things I need to say.
Even if my heart is breaking while I do so.
“It’s okay, Callahan. You don’t have to make promises you don’t intend to keep,” I say. Breathe, Sutton. “We both walked into whatever this is knowing that there was an expiration date to us—”
“Fucking Brady,” he mutters and laughs.
“He’s right though, and that’s okay.” I smile and stroke the side of his cheek.
I want to choke on every single word I’m saying.
Words I know he needs to hear, that I need to say, but that will only serve to devastate my heart.
“You’ve waited your whole life to have freedom and wings to fly.
” I lean up on my toes and brush a tender kiss to his lips. “Go fly, Callahan.”
He shakes his head, confusion suddenly in his eyes. “You could come with me then. We could travel and—”
“I can’t,” I whisper, my voice more than breaking this time as I steel myself from the want to say yes and the need to say no.
“I put my aspirations on hold and my happiness in someone’s hands before.
I can’t do that to myself again. I’m on the cusp of achieving so much that I’ve worked for that I have to look out for me.
” The first tear slips over and his expression falls at the sight of it.
“Sutton.” He cups my face, and I press my lips into his palm, closing my eyes for a beat.
“The problem is that I know I’d wait for you. Because you, Callahan Sharpe, are worth waiting for. I’d wait and take the little scraps you throw my way when you come into town, but I deserve more than that. I deserve the things you aren’t ready to give yet and so . . . I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He offers me a crooked smile, a brave face, and I feel better knowing he’s hurting too.
He leans in and presses the most bittersweet of kisses to my lips before wrapping his arms around me and pulling me in.
We stand like this for some time.
Breathing each other in.
Holding each other tight.
Reveling in the moment while regretting the ones that we know we’ll have to deal with in the coming days.
I’ve known him such a short time, but I know he’ll be taking my heart with him when he leaves.
In a bittersweet twist, knowing him has helped me grow enough to be certain that saying no is the best thing for me. Long-term. And hopefully for him too.
He does deserve to fly.
And I deserve to soar too.