56. CHLOE
56
CHLOE
Everyone is waiting for Liam and Emerson at the pub we reserved.
Beatrix, Audrey, Maya, and I have been here for an hour or so setting up decorations and configuring food. George showed up after dropping off Sofia with his aunt, who is watching her for the day.
Callum finally arrived after retrieving my purse from his parents’ house. I expected some sort of reserved demeanor after any backlash from last night, but not this.
His shoulders are tense, mentally and physically withdrawn.
Everyone is simmering with excitement except for him. He’s withdrawn and sulking.
My attention is drawn away from him with a video call from Emerson.
“Everyone hide. Shh.” I move away from them, using the exposed brick with no decor as my background. George giggles. “That means you too, George.”
I swipe right on the call.
Three-fourths of the screen is her hand with a ring on it. “I’m engaged!” There’s a cough, and the phone screen zooms out. “We’re engaged!”
“Shut up! Congrats! That ring is stunning. Good work, Liam.”
“Thank you, Chloe,” he says smugly but proudly, knowing my complement is wholehearted.
“Tell me everything. ”
Emerson recounts the story. Ending with, “You need to come to London soon so we can start planning. Or I’ll come to Chicago! I don’t want to change your birthday plans next month for this.”
“Don’t worry about that right now; enjoy today! Tell me where you end up later so I can send a bottle of champagne.”
“Okay! I love you. Is Callum around?”
I glance around the room finding that he disappeared. Everyone shrugs.
“Bathroom, I think.”
I hang up with another congratulation. They call Beatrix and George next. Then Audrey.
Leaving the reserved space we have, I search for Cal.
Spotting him outside, I push open the front door. He’s smoking a cigarette, leaning against the brick exterior with ivy climbing up it. His hair is a mess like he’s been running his hand through it or pulling at the strands.
His head drops in defeat.
I find a spot next to him. “You smoke?”
“Party trick,” he says too casually, too carelessly. Cal takes a puff of the cigarette, pulling it from his lips with a puff of smoke.
“Everything okay?”
“Grand.”
“Did something happen with your mo—”
“No,” he snaps before I can finish my question.
“Why are you outside?”
“Keeping an eye out for them.”
“Wouldn’t that give it away?”
“Yeah, whatever, sure, Chloe.”
I tsk, taking in a lung full of crisp springtime London air. “Come inside?”
“Yeah, sure, whatever.” He puts out the cig and walks to the door, bypassing my outstretched hand.
“Cal, please stop. ”
“What, Chloe?” he asks as he whirls around, dropping his hand from the door. He doesn’t allow his attention to find mine.
“Look at me.” I step into his space, taking hold of his chin to drag his heartbreakingly distant eyes to mine. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Chloe.” His voice cracks and I wonder where else those cracks are.
Whatever is going on with Cal, I have no time to harp on. From my peripheral, I spot the newly engaged couple happily waltzing our way.
Callum and I hurry inside just in time to yell, “Surprise!”
I wrap my best friend in a hug, and she starts crying, tears of joy and surprise. We fall to the floor in a mess of happiness.
“I can’t believe you’re here.”
“I can’t believe you’re engaged.”
I grab her hand, pulling the diamond close to my eyeball. “It’s perfect. Better than the last one.” Emerson was engaged before getting back together with Liam. The wedding was called off when she realized that she never loved the guy like she loved Liam. The entire engagement, ring included, was big and frilly. Nothing like Emerson. She was miserable but stayed with him because she’s a pathological people pleaser. In the end, everything works out, I guess.
“Don’t remind me how gaudy that was.”
“And you actually get to plan the wedding this time.”
She bops my nose. “Nope. My super cool Maid of Honor, who works in events, gets to plan it. Yay her!”
“Only if Tucker gets to be the ring bearer. I’ll get him a tux.”
“Was already thinking that. See! You are already planning it.”
** *
Hours of celebrating turns into a tipsy Emerson shouting, “Karaoke! We have to sing karaoke,” and immediately, George calling a ride.
He also signed up for four songs in a row, tipping the DJ to ensure his concert.
Everyone's a bit rowdy, except for Callum.
Everyone is letting loose, dancing, singing along to whoever is on stage, except Callum.
George is showing his song selection to Beatrix. She’s patting his back, embracing his class clown nature. It makes me wonder what the two of them were like as teens. Apparently George still has his journal from the year they met at boarding school.
Audrey and her girlfriend are ordering more drinks at the bar.
Liam has an arm wrapped around Emerson’s waist, the other holding up her hand and telling anyone and everyone that’s his wife. Emerson melts whenever she hears his husky British accent whisper my wife into her ear.
Callum is sitting down, sipping on a beer.
I scoot into the table, finding a seat on his lap. Before I take a drink of his beer, he pulls it away from me. “You can’t have this.” A gust of relief rushes over me as I see a flicker of my boyfriend behind his icy fortress.
“Are you going to sing?”
“Do I look like the type to sing karaoke, Henry?”
He didn’t call me Dais or Daisy—he hasn’t all day—and it stings. Did I do something? Did his mom say something? I have hundreds of questions I want to ask but keep throwing out.
Am I losing him? I can’t lose him.
“Yup. Maybe even a duet with me? Do you know "Somebody to Love” from Ella Enchanted ?”
“That’s a Queen song.”
“It’s also an Ella Enchanted song. Adler and I performed it once for a school talent show.”
“It’s also not a duet. ”
“Alright, fact checker. What’s the matter? You have been a grump all day, and I don’t like it.”
“It’s nothing, Henry.”
“But—”
“Drop it.” He grips my waist, the touch careful, moving me off him. “I’m getting another drink.”
I scoot out from behind the table, following him but Cal heads to the bathroom.
The DJ announces the next performer, “George Eaton, everybody!”
I join everyone gathered in the center of the floor in front of the raised stage. I give Cal one more glance over my shoulder now that he’s at the bar, confused and worried. Not wanting to ruin the rest of the day or weekend for Liam and Emerson, I let all that simmer and float to the back of my mind.
George’s back is to the crowd, and the sound of piano keys begins to fill the space.
Beatrix’s head falls to her hands.
Emerson waltzes to the front of the stage, arms outstretched towards the stage, belting the lyrics to “Pink Pony Club” alongside George.
He works the stage and crowd. At one point lying on the stage, pretending to play air guitar. Rolling over, he props his head up for the bridge.
“I can’t believe he can hit these notes,” Audrey says loudly.
“You should hear him singing lullabies,” Beatrix laughs. “I am tone deaf compared to this.”
George closes out the first of his four performances with an air kiss to his wife.
“This next song goes out to my best mates.” Complete with a choreographed dance, George performs “Steal My Girl”.
I turn to Liam. “You two lied. You said you didn’t have a song-thing like Emerson and I.” I push a finger into his chest. “And One Direction too?”
George replaces the word girl with boy, singing his heart out.
I don’t recognize the third song, but the fourth, and final thank goodness, is a duet with Emerson. They sing “Closer” by The Chainsmokers.
“Shoulda sang “Summertime Friends.”” I cup my hands to yell at them.
“More like all-time friends now, huh,” Liam says next to me.
He’s watching Emerson, how he always looks at her: like she didn’t just hang the moon, but is the sun he revolves around.
He’s already found her in one lifetime and then another. I know that the two of them would find each other in every life. Liam’s not letting her go.
I take a deep breath. “Thank you for loving my best friend how everyone is supposed to be loved.”
“I couldn’t love her any other way.” Liam snakes an arm around me. “I’m not sure what’s up with Cal, but he loves you the same way.”
Swallowing around the rock of worry that maybe he doesn’t, that perhaps this is the start to the end somehow, I respond, “Yeah, I know.”
Over my shoulder, I catch Cal watching me. Our eyes hold. His ocean eyes are murky and I can see him wading in whatever is happening, fighting to maintain control.
But he’s slipping.
***
“Liam gave you his credit card?” My eyes peel away from the clothing rack to Emerson. “Said buy whatever for the both of us?”
She’s trying on sunglasses. “What’s his is mine, and what’s mine is mine.”
I can’t help but laugh at the audacity of her statement .
“What? I’m not the one bringing an entire hotel empire into a relationship.” Turning to look at me, she strikes a pose. “These?”
“Those are ugly.”
“Dang, Chlo, okay.”
“Want me to lie to you?”
“Nope.” She removes them, folding the temples and setting them back in their display case. “The second pair looked best, didn’t they?”
I nod, moving further down the rack, uninterested and distracted.
When I woke up this morning, Cal was on the other side of the bed. Rolling over to him, I tried to put my arms around his waist, big spoon him, and he didn’t budge.
He didn’t speak much when I left to meet up with Emerson. Only have fun and when will you be back .
I can’t pinpoint what’s wrong, but I’m positive something is.
I’ve seen him focused. I’ve seen how he can block out the world for work, but he never blocked me out.
My thoughts drift, cycle back through the previous days. Dissecting. Replaying. I keep coming up empty.
What happened?
Emerson checks out, dragging me to lunch.
“Catch me up on work. How is it going trying to reestablish the partnership?”
I set down my utensils, clearing my throat with Diet Coke. “Horrible. We have an extended partnership, but Tamara closed them, not me. We’ll see if my job is still there when I return.”
“You should quit. Work with Blake or finally start coaching skating.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“If it isn’t my third and fifth favorite ladies?”
“Third and fifth?” Beatrix asks her husband .
“You’re one, babe. Two is our daughter. Three is States, here. Fourth is my aunt, of course. Then Chloe.” George plucks a fry off my plate. “No disrespect, babe. Fifth is still top five!”
“None taken.” I smack his hand away when he tries to take another fry. “Don’t mess with my potatoes.”
“What are Mom and Dad up to today?” Emerson asks as Beatrix reads over the menu, George righting his chair.
“His aunt, such a dear, kept Sofia overnight so we could have a weekend to ourselves.”
“First one?”
“Mhmm.”
“I love being a dad, but kind of forgot how much I loved having Bea to myself. I miss those days. We laid in bed this morning till noon. It was sick, glorious.”
My heart suddenly feels claustrophobic, ribs closing in on it.
How is it that I saw Cal this morning, live with him, and miss him?
I missed waking up this morning with one of Cal’s hands in my hair and the other on my waist. His light snores that sound more like hiccups. Morning stubble rubbing across my jaw like sandpaper.
Never having to make a coffee because he perfected my favorite. Playing NYT word games, trying to see who gets the Wordle faster. Scaring him by jumping into his post-run or yoga shower. Bumping elbows while brushing our teeth. Making the bed only for him to fix it because he’s particular—really I mess it up on purpose and slow so he has to put his hands on me to move me out of the way.
I miss him, and he was right next to me.
Is that what love is like?
“We are having lunch, then picking her up. Are we interrupting?”
Emerson cocks her head, silently asking me. “Nope.”
They order, George replaces my side of fries, dipping his own cluster into ketchup .
“When are you coming back to London, Chloe girl?” George asks. “I’ve loved having my mate home. . .”
I don’t hear anything after that. My mind stops. Won’t let me pass ‘home’.
Home.
Home as in London.
Home, as in not Chicago. Not me.
Callum’s my home, but what if I’m not his? What if that’s what he realized while we’ve been here?
I fight off my thoughts as they throw punch after punch.
I’m better than this. Stronger than this. So why does it feel like I’m walking on a tightrope one step away from falling back into the pit of my fears?
I need a shower. . .
Lunch carries on. I carry on with my thoughts.