Chapter Fourteen Sophie
Chapter Fourteen
Sophie
The early evening air is cool on my walk to Rivers & Rhodes, the sky bruised with shades of purple as twilight settles over Starling Cove. I slow my steps, savoring the walk toward my new favorite place.
I want to take my time browsing, to soak in the comforting hush of the shelves. I'm also hoping for a glimpse of Plot, and maybe, just maybe, a smile from Callum.
We've been texting, morning to night, but it isn't the same as seeing him in person, hearing his warm laugh, and being in his comforting presence.
Also, I made banana bread last night, and, well, I just so happened to have made too much for myself. I figure I could see if Callum and Maeve would like some.
That's totally casual.
I'm dressed in one of my prettiest sweaters, the red one Tess convinced me to buy three years ago, insisting it looked striking against my dark hair and pale skin.
I paired it with the 'peach jeans,' named so because they are magic and make my derriere look like a peach.
On my feet are my cute, comfortable white canvas sneakers. I think I look casual yet put together.
And okay, maybe I put on a little more makeup than usual—sue me.
Not that I'm looking for anything, I'm still fresh and raw from the end of my engagement. But I still want to look nice. I want to feel normal, like a woman who dresses up to see a friend, who just happens to be very handsome, kind, and sweet.
I check my reflection in the shop window before stepping into the warm store, the chime above the door announcing my arrival.
Instantly, peace washes over me.
Dusty Springfield croons from the shop's speakers, and I scan the store for my gentle giant. An older woman browses the Non-Fiction section across the way. A younger man crouches near the Horror section. Two girls giggle over a book near the Historical Romance end cap.
I can’t find Callum, but… I can almost feel him here. It's like the pull of a compass inside me, pointing me in his direction.
It's a warm, happy feeling.
"Hello, my dove."
I jump, so distracted looking for Callum that I miss Maeve materializing out of thin air to my right. The blonde smiles serenely, dressed in a flowy burnt orange dress. She nods to the bundle in my hands. "Is that for us?"
"Oh—hi! Yes. Banana bread," I smile and hold it out, then hesitate and pull it back. "Wait, no one's allergic to bananas or nuts, right? Or gluten?"
"Very much fans of gluten," I hear Callum's voice behind me and my smile blooms instantaneously.
He rounds the corner from the Mysteries section, the smile on his face mirroring mine. I hand him the offering with a flourish, and he accepts it as if it's something precious. The loaf, which had seemed so large in my hands, looks small in his, something I find I like.
Callum’s personality is gentle and calm, but his presence is colossal. He takes up space in a way that feels steady and beautiful, like a mountain.
When his eyes lift back to mine, suddenly every thought flees my head.
"Hi," seems to be the one word I can manage right now.
"Hey, Sophie," he says softly, his warm brown eyes locked onto mine. He lifts the loaf, "It smells amazing."
"I'm a bit of a banana bread connoisseur," I say, lifting my chin with playful smugness. "Took me years to perfect it."
He laughs, "Years, huh?"
"Many batches. Many bananas sacrificed. None in vain, I promise."
"You're pretty hardcore about your baked goods."
"Just wait till Christmas, then you'll truly see my baking mania."
"Can't wait."
Callum and I smile at each other, our easy camaraderie contrasting with how buzzy this moment feels. He’s just so easy to talk to. I never worry about saying something silly and him being annoyed or rolling his eyes at me.
I can be Sophie.
"I'll go cut this up," Maeve gently cuts in, taking the loaf from Callum. She sends her son an amused grin before disappearing through the beaded curtain.
"How's your day going?" I ask him once we’re alone.
"Better now," Callum says with a grin, his tone earnest. The words land in my chest, holding themselves there, and I have to focus on breathing as I follow him up to the front register.
Plot, seeing my arrival, jumps up on the register and starts rubbing his fuzzy gray head against my open hand. I giggle at his antics as he lets out a loud, plaintive meow.
Callum shakes his head at him as he grabs a cardboard box from the floor and opens it with a box cutter. From what I can see, it's a new shipment of hardcovers, and he works efficiently as he takes them out to organize.
"Aw, such a handsome boy," I coo while scratching Plot's ears.
"You're like a snake charmer," Callum grins, looking at the purring cat. "A Plot charmer."
"He just senses I'm dying and is having pity," I joke, a little darkly. I guess gallows humor has been bubbling up lately as a way for me to cope, but when I look at Callum's face, there's no humor in it.
Silence hangs dead in the air and stretches until he breaks it.
"Please don't joke about that," he murmurs, the tone of his voice making me wince. His expression looks like I just sucked punched him, and I immediately feel awful.
"I'm sorry," I apologize genuinely, reaching my hand out and laying it on his arm. He meets my eyes, and I try to smile. "I just... feel like it's reverse psychology. If I talk about it, it won't happen. I'm sorry."
Callum closes his eyes and shakes his head, "No, don't apologize, Sophie. I know I shouldn't tell you how to deal with it. It's not fair of me. It's just... I don't like the thought of you not being here."
The earnestness of those words makes me tighten my hand on his arm. He can feel it, the muscle under my hand tensing, and our eyes lock. Slowly, he rests his large and warm hand over mine.
"I'm not going anywhere," I tell him sincerely. He holds my gaze for a long moment before he nods. Reluctantly, we break contact after a few more seconds, and I grin smugly at him.
"I mean, that's what the whole chemo and getting my breasts chopped off thing is for. I'm gonna kick cancer's ass, I am kicking cancer's ass."
I playfully flex my arm muscles, and his face breaks into an amused smile.
"Easy, Sarah Connor."
My eyes widen, and I gasp in delight. "Ooh, let's add that to our movie night list too!"
"First one or second one?" he asks, with a raised eyebrow.
"Yes."
"Done and done," Callum grins as I take out my phone, adding those movies to our ever-growing list in my notes app.
The bell chimes with a new customer and catches Callum's attention.
"I'll be back," he whispers in his best Schwarzenegger-Terminator voice, and I snort a laugh as he walks off toward the couple who just entered.
I watch him walk over and greet them like they're old friends, asking them what they're looking for.
Plot rams his head impatiently against my hand again, apparently his signal that I need to get back to petting him, which I do.
But I can't tear my eyes off the sweet man who listens patiently and guides the customers over to a new story.
Maeve comes back over, carrying two plates of sliced banana bread. She hands me one and takes a bite from the other, "How are you doing, my dove?"
"I'm okay," I nod, my voice softer than I mean it to be, and I try to keep my smile in place.
Maeve's perceptive gaze seems to see right through me.
I take a bite of the bread and chew slowly.
My stomach has been feeling more sensitive since I started chemo.
"Hanging in there. I know it's going to get tough soon, but. .."
"Tough roads are usually the most rewarding," Maeve nods sagely, placing her plate down on the register counter. "Has Callum told you about my William?"
"Yes," I say, offering Maeve a genuine smile. At the mention of her late husband, a dreamy fondness settles over her features, like she's been struck by Cupid's arrow. "Callum talks about him a lot. He sounds wonderful."
"I'm glad he talks to you about him," Maeve says, her smile soft and a little wistful.
I keep my gaze on hers, eyes the same warm brown as Callum's.
"I made mistakes after his dad passed. I was a mess after.
I didn't really want to talk about him, and I think that really hurt Callum, because I was too busy burying my feelings to process. It was just so very sudden."
"I'm so sorry, Maeve," I whisper.
She smiles and gently pinches my cheek with a playfulness that eases the heaviness in the moment.
"I'm glad that he has you," Maeve says, her eyes sparkling with quiet pride as she glances over at her son. "I'm glad that you have each other."
"I'm lucky to have met him. He's..." I say softly, following her gaze to where Callum stands laughing with the older couple. Warmth spreads from my chest as I whisper the next part, "... so great."
"He's my son, so I'm biased, but I have to agree," Maeve laughs softly.
Callum must feel my eyes on him because he looks at me, and his smile only widens. I return his smile but glance to the floor, trying to hide my flushed cheeks.
"Don't be afraid to let him help, dove," Maeve murmurs suddenly, her tone soft but her words serious.
"As I said, he's his father's son—he's steady and reliable.
I am biased, but I also raised him to be a helper.
Everyone needs help sometimes, but we worry so much about asking for it that we forget. "
Maeve's hand gently squeezes my arm. "Needing people doesn't make you weak. It makes you human."
I look at Maeve, seeing how serious her expression is. She really wants me to understand her words, and I do. I have to trust that these people want to help me. That Callum wants to help me.
And I have to accept that I need them.
I need Callum.
"Okay," I nod.
"Okay," she grins, finishing up her banana bread. Maeve is pulled away by a customer who wants a tarot reading, so I hang at the front register, entertaining Plot with a feather toy. Callum walks back to the register with a small grin on his face.