61. Callie
CHAPTER 61
CALLIE
D ays go by, and apparently the wheels of justice do turn slowly, because I hear from my sister that things will be tied up with Mr. Hargrove and all of the legal proceedings for quite some time. Sadie and Adam do their best to get back to a normal life, now as a married couple.
The iced coffees continue to arrive daily. I should contact the men and tell them to stop, but I assume the deliveries will cease when they leave town, or when they eventually lose interest. But they keep coming, sometimes with a little note, often without.
On a rainy morning, there’s a folded umbrella next to the coffee, propped against the house. On another day, there’s a plant in a small green pot. Three stems of bamboo, tied together with a golden band. An attached message reads, “It reminded us of the three of us. We belong together, Callie.”
I never dreamed they would be this persistent, and I remember a conversation I had with Max about how small gestures mean more to me than big ones. He was listening, and he remembered.
I see my mom a few times over the weeks that follow, and we talk about things little by little. Early on, I apologize for bringing the men to the wedding, and like my sister, she assures me that she doesn’t think I’m at fault.
“Max and Miles explained that you had no idea about the secret work they do,” she says. “And that you weren’t actually dating.”
“When Max heard I needed a date, he offered to pose as my fake boyfriend, and he asked if his brother could come along.”
“They told me that, too, and it made me realize that I’m ultimately responsible, since I’m the one who pressured you to bring a date to the wedding.”
“I know you just wanted everything to be perfect.”
She lets out a huff. “Imagine! I was trying to impress Mr. Hargrove. Thank heavens Adam wasn’t involved in any of that.”
On another visit, she says, “Your sister let slip some things I never knew about your relationship with Rick.”
“Oh?”
“Callie, why didn’t you tell me what he did?”
“I don’t know … I figured you’d be disappointed in me for letting myself be taken advantage of.”
She gives me an odd look, her features pinching toward the center of her face. “Really? Is that what you think I’d—” She stops herself, then continues on to ask, “And is that why you didn’t tell me about the money issues, about why you quit school and why you’ve been working so much?”
I shrug. “I didn’t want to be a burden.”
She rushes toward me and envelops me in a hug. “Oh, Callie! I love you. You could never in a million years be a burden.”
Today, I’m helping Mom harvest blackberries in her yard, and while both of us are deep in the brambles, she lobs a question at me, out of the blue. “So, how are things going with Max and Miles?”
“How are things going?”
“Yes, have you been seeing them?”
“No … I’m not really in touch with them anymore.” Unless you count coffee deliveries and random notes that I never respond to.
“Oh.” She sounds surprised.
“Remember, we weren't actually dating. They were just pretending to be my boyfriend at the wedding.”
“Right, but after what they said when they visited me, I just thought?—”
“What they said?” I’ve stopped picking berries altogether. “What did they say?”
She keeps picking berries and doesn’t respond.
“Mom?”
“Maybe I wasn’t supposed to say anything, Callie. It’s just that after they explained everything to me, and after they answered every question they were allowed to answer, they told me how they felt about you. They asked if I would be okay with them dating you, after everything that had happened.”
“They asked you that?” All I seem to be capable of is a series of incredulous questions.
“Yes. I thought it was a nice gesture.”
“And what did you tell them?”
Mom continues to plunk berries into her bowl. “Well, I had my reservations, of course. I wasn’t sure how it could work … with there being two of them.”
“That’s what you were concerned about?”
“Of course. It’s not exactly typical. I’m sure it could pose problems, but maybe since they’re twins …”
“What about the fact that they lied to me?”
She glances up at me. “I know that’s not ideal, but they were doing their job. They kept things from you because they had to, not because they were trying to hurt you. They weren’t deceiving you for their own gain.”
I go back to picking, gobsmacked by the turn of this conversation.
“You might be scared, Callie,” Mom says, “and I understand that better than most women. I never let myself trust again … and I regret it. There are plenty of good relationships out there, your sister’s included. Just because you and I have had bad luck so far, doesn’t mean that we should close ourselves off forever.”
When I stay quiet, she says, “They seem like good men, Callie. Maybe they deserve a chance.”
I drive home with a lot on my mind, but I’m happy to put it all aside and enjoy taco night with Marissa and Ana. We’re just going in the kitchen for seconds when the doorbell rings.
There’s a woman on the porch holding a brown bag with handles. “For Callie Baker?”
“Yes. What is it?”
“Food delivery. Here you go.” She hands me the bag, tells me to have a good night, and leaves.
“What is it?” Marissa asks when I return to the kitchen.
“Some kind of food. I don’t know.”
“From the guys?” Ana asks. I told my roommates about the coffee deliveries, but I’m not sure if they realize I receive a drink every single morning.
The bag holds several containers. I open the first one and find a dish of crème br?lée. The second one has strawberry shortcake, and I’m already pretty sure I know what I’ll see when I open the third. Sure enough, there’s a slice of chocolate cake.
They’re not identical to the desserts we shared at the resort, but the idea comes across clearly, and my mind instantly fills with memories that heat my skin.
“Dessert!” Ana looks gleeful. “Are we still pissed at these guys, Callie, or can I advise you to marry them?”
We don’t know how we feel about them, so I don’t answer her joking question.
There’s a small envelope in the bag, too, which holds a note:
We hope we can share these with you again in the future, but for now, we hope you and your roommates enjoy them. Love, Max & Miles
My friends watch me read the message, but they don’t ask about it as I tuck it away.
“Are they still sending you iced coffees?” Marissa asks.
“Yeah.”
“That’s sweet.”
I arrange the dessert containers on the counter. “They just feel guilty.”
“I’m sure they do,” Ana says, “but they wouldn’t do all of this out of guilt. Guilt usually makes people avoid a situation, not stay connected to it.”
“I agree,” Marissa says. “Guilt is a hundred dollar coffee shop gift card, not a daily delivery.”