33. Enough
CHAPTER 33
Enough
7 am comes faster than I expected. Mace has barely eaten when a knock echoes through the house. I drop the bowl of soggy cereal on the arm of the chair and let Mace down on the rug.
Calum is all smiles when I open the door, but I can’t reciprocate. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I reply. A yawn tries to escape, but I place a hand over my mouth. I need to eat or I may slump. But I have no appetite. I step back for Calum to enter. “We were just, um…”
He looks behind me, his lips breaking into a smile. “He crawls?” Excitement laces his voice. I nod, but he barely sees me as he stumbles to his son. Turning, I wince. Mace’s breakfast is splattered on the rug. Calum doesn’t notice the mess as he squats in front of his son. “Hey.”
Making a stop in the kitchen, I grab a rag and return to the living room. A spell of dizziness hits me when I bend to clean up. The tiny bowl is upturned, and Mace is drumming his spoon against it. Calum lifts Mace off the floor, coming to stand beside me. “Hey, are you okay?”
Stars dot my vision. I pick up the utensils and nod. “Yeah. I’m fine. Did you drive here?”
“Yes.” He looks suspicious. “Have you eaten?”
Nothing I can remember now. Besides, my appetite is gone. But it’s not something I can tell him. Flashing him my most authentic fake smile, I nod and hurry out of his sight. I spend a few minutes in the kitchen trying to calm my heart and brain. Hunger is messing with me. But there’s no food in the house. Dad was unable to cook before he left the house yesterday.
On my return to the room, Calum and Mace are seated. My head spins, and my hands reach out to grab anything solid. He shoots to his feet immediately. “I think you should sit down.”
His fingers slide into mine before I can utter a word, and familiar sparks flicker to life on that spot. He leads me to a couch. I hate that he’s helpful, but I tag along and sit where he points.
“Have you fed Mace?”
Our son is a sweetheart, quiet and watching the scene unfold. I stare at the spot I picked up his plate. There wasn’t much left in the bowl when I went to open the door, so I say, “Yes.”
“You’ve eaten?” he murmurs. I must have nodded because he lets me be. “I’ll be right back.”
His footfalls fade behind me. My intestines knot painfully, and I heave. Someone taps me, and my eyes open. Calum. He’s alone. I stumble to my feet, almost falling flat on my face.
“Where’s Mace?” I whisper.
“In his rocker.”
My eyes close, and I breathe through my mouth. The fist in my chest unclenches, and my breathing returns to regular. Calum reaches for me but changes his mind. I lock my arms around my waist, following behind him. I want to sleep or cry. It’s hard to tell because I’m so overwhelmed. Calum loops an arm through my elbow, and we walk side by side. I don’t want to depend on him, but I don’t have much of a choice right now. He sits me at the dining table.
“There wasn’t much I could find,” he offers.
There’s a tiny bowl of ketchup beside the plate of boiled potatoes and scrambled eggs. It’s an odd combination. Dad must have left those in his haste yesterday. I might have freaked them out, but I’m okay. I don’t need to talk to a professional or anyone else. Mace coos from his rocker. I don’t know if the position is deliberate, but he’s close enough for me to touch him.
Calum drags the plate towards me. I grab my fork, take a few bites, and push the plate away.
“I’m not hungry.”
“You need to eat,” Calum tells me. I’d love to, but it doesn’t taste right. Nothing is the same anymore. I shake my head, and he exhales. Mace stares in silence. “Cathie, you need to eat.”
Flicking a finger against the plate, I reply, “I already did.”
“Cathie,” he warns. “Eat.”
“You don’t get to come here and order me around,” I remind him. “I’m not hungry.”
“How are you supposed to take care of Mace or yourself when you don’t eat? Eat.”
This human. I fold my arms. “Or what?”
“I’ll tie you to that chair and force-feed you,” he replies without missing a beat.
What? I grab the fork and stab the potato. Calum’s gaze doesn’t waver from me. His son burps, but otherwise, he doesn’t check on his mum. It’s tough, but I take one bite and another until the food finishes and make a show of licking the plate. Calum chuckles. As if it’s funny.
“Are you happy now?” I ask, showing him the plate.
“Thrilled, Cathie. Ecstatic.”
Silence stretches. He can return to where he came from now. We are good without his interference.
“Your kitchen is empty,” he comments.
Okay, Sherlock . Calum waits for me to talk, but I have no words. He glances at an awake but quiet Mace. I bite my tongue from speaking when he lowers our son to the floor and returns to his seat. Mace happily crawls away. The dining is kids proofed so I have nothing to worry about.
“If you don’t mind,” Calum begins, staring in the direction Mace crawled off to. “I could run to the store and get some items for you. But I’ll need a list. I’m not sure what you like now.”
“I do mind,” I reply.
He leans forward, his forearms flattening on the table. “Stop making this hard for both of us.”
“You are the one making it hard. You are the one who wants to be more than they are to us,” I say. He scoffs. That won’t be his only reaction when I’m done talking. “You don’t have to do anything for me. You don’t have to get me groceries. You don’t have to cook or take—”
“I want to,” he whispers.
Calum’s hand reaches for mine, but I hide it under the table. I may have had a moment of weakness yesterday or this morning, but I still have the same opinions about him. He’s a liar.
“Doing all of that won’t give you a place in our lives,” I spit out with enough hate. I’m hurt, and I want to hurt him. Amelia was right to warn about the hate consuming me, but it’s too late. “I don’t want you here, Calum. If Mace were older, he would probably say the same.”
His voice goes low. “Enough, okay?”
I brace my forearms on the table, eyes narrowed to harsh slits. I hate him.
“You’re not wanted here, Mr Dissick. Go home.”
“Cathie.”
“Go on and continue living your life, kissing all those girls, going on shows,” I tell him. He snarls as I list out all he does. The warning in his eyes fly past me. I need to hurt him. “If I could, I would swap your life for Amelia’s. If anyone deserves to be dead, it’s you, Calum.”
“Enough.” He slams his fist on the table, and I jerk back. Tension coagulates the air. Anger cracks between us. He stands, and his chair collapses to the floor. Leaning over the table, darkness swirls in his eyes as he tells me, “Too bad I’m not dead, Catherine Jenkins. I’m so sorry for your loss, but wishing me dead won’t change a thing. It’s not my fault, you know?”
I snort. “Yeah, it’s mine.”
Something darker takes over him. He sits on another chair and crosses his arms on his chest.
“So you received one email from someone who claims to be me and you gave up?”
His words slam into me like a bag of bricks. I open my mouth, but the only thing that comes out is, “I gave…” My voice catches. I can’t get a sentence out without the need for a deep breath. My eyes water. “I gave up? How dare you? I was pregnant with your son, you twat. And running after a man who wanted nothing to do with me was the last thing on my mind.”
“No, Cathie. How dare you? You had no right to keep my son away from me,” Calum says in a dangerously calm voice. We are both upset and spitting fire at each other. I should back down, but I can’t. “That’s the cruellest thing you could have ever done to me. It was wicked.”
This time, I’m the one who jumps to my feet. I point an angry finger at him. “I had every right. He’s my son. Mine . If I had my way, you wouldn’t be here right now, talking to me.”
Holding a finger up, he slowly lowers it and shakes his head. “Enough out of you, Catherine. Zip it. You’re not the only one affected. I lost my memory because of your dad. I missed out on my son’s birth because of him. I didn’t even get to name him. He was a year-old days ago, and I missed it. Why? Because of your selfishness. So, give me a break. Shut it for once.”
“Cal—”
“I lost my memory, but what’s your excuse, Superstar?” Calum mutters, and the pieces of my heart clinging together shatter into tinier bits. He’s up on his feet, his eyes blazing with anger and hurt. Tears shimmer somewhere in there. “You had the money. You had the tickets. Why didn’t you show up, Cathie? All you had to do was come. But one email, and you are done?”
My mind blanks. There doesn’t seem to be a good enough answer to that. Tears spill from my eyes to my arm. It’s easy for him to say this now, but how could I have known the mail wasn’t him?
“Even if I couldn’t afford a flight, I would have found a way. I would have walked, taken a bus, or train. Done everything. Anything. And if it came to it, I would have crawled to you. I would have done everything to return to you, Miss Catherine J. And you know that. Because once I finally decided I was in, I was in. For the good, the bad, and the in-between. Now tell me, Cathie, what is your excuse? Why did I deserve to be punished this way for loving you?”
“I was scared and heartbroken,” I whisper.
If Calum hears that, he doesn’t show it. There’s no trace of warmth in his eyes when he tells me, “I don’t care if you think I should be in my son’s life. I don’t care what you think at all, but I’m not going anywhere. And if you try to stop me, we will have to battle it out in court. You kept him away from me, remember? I won’t let that happen again, Catherine. Never.”
“You don’t have to threaten me each time to make your point,” I mutter to the table.
“You don’t seem to understand any other language.”
Calum snatches my empty plate and storms off, coming to an abrupt stop when he sees Mace at the entrance of the dining. Tears line Mace’s blues. I’m not really a good mother, am I? How could we forget about him? Calum squats and strokes his son’s chubby cheek.
“Your mum is… something,” he says, not a care if I hear him. Mace giggles as his dad tickles him. A tear trickles down his face, but only out of excitement. “How do you live with her?”
On his feet, he continues to the kitchen. My chest sags. It aches everywhere. I join our son on the floor and draw him into a hug. “Papa Mace is upset. What are we going to do, Macey?”
Calum returns to the dining room. He spots us on the floor, stares for a while, and sighs. I don’t know what I expect from him, but when he walks out of the front door without a word, my chest constricts. It’s me. I’m the problem. I’m the reason everyone always leaves me.
Hours pass with me and Mace in the house. I feed him more cereal, but the rest of our day is a blur. Calum shows up by past 6. I’m seated in the living room, one hand on Mace’s rocking chair. The TV is on, but I hear nothing. Calum steps in with a bag full of groceries held to his chest. We don’t say a word to each other, but he stops by Mace’s chair to blow kisses at his son. I think I should say something but my tongue is tied and I doubt he wants to speak to me.
For the second time today, he makes food for me. I’m compliant, already eating before he tells me to. Awkwardness hovers over us like a wet veil. He’s not eating. I should ask about that but my throat dries, and I can’t find the right words to start a conversation. We could talk about his new look. He shaved. For Mace? He looks more like my Calum from two years ago.
“Is Mace allowed to eat other things?” he asks. I nod. I still can’t meet his gaze. “Like what?”
“Oats.” His head raises. Our gazes finally meet, and I gulp. “Cereals,” I whisper.
“Good thing I got some of both.”
To that, I have nothing to say. My stomach protests when I’ve had enough, but I shovel more food down my throat while Calum chats away on his phone. I push the plate away from me.
My eyes are on the dining table when I murmur, “I can’t eat anymore.”
Silence follows. Calum clears the table. It’s my house, but I’m allowed to do nothing. I return to the living room to finish the show. He sits back in the dining. He wants nothing to do with me, and he’s making that clear. I doze off on the couch, waking up to the sound of my phone going off. It’s 11: 15 pm. Calum walks past the couch, and my heart crawls to my throat.
“Are you leaving?”
He spins on his heels to face me. “What do you care, Catherine? You’ve decided to make me pay for the sins of our parents. Your dad hit me, but he gets to play the role of a grandfather, yet I didn’t get a say in the whole thing.” I think… I think I’m terrified of this new Calum. He snaps his finger, and I exhale. “And yes, I’m leaving. I’ll be back again tomorrow by 7 am.”
“It’s late.”
A yawn escapes him as he rubs the back of his palm over his eyes. “I’m well aware.”
“You can stay,” I volunteer. He yawns again. If that’s not an indication that he’s too tired to drive, I don’t know what else is. But the way he’s scowling at me makes it hard to be nice to him. “Mace wouldn’t want you getting mugged or dying on your way back to your hotel.”
“Both options sound much better than spending the night with the lady who wished me dead right after she threatened me with a shotgun,” Calum returns. “Like father, like daughter.”
My mouth opens and closes. “Suit yourself.”
The door slams shut after him. He must have sucked the air out of the room because I can’t breathe. I slump down to the floor and draw my knees to my chest. I’m okay. I’m fine.