Chapter Fourteen Sophie #2
"They're looking for a book series for their granddaughter. I showed them The Baby-Sitters Club."
I squeal delighted, "Callum, I loved that series!
Oh, she'll love it. I don't even know the girl, but I know she'll love it.
Tess had all of the books, and I would sneak them from her room.
She gave them to me when she left for the Army, and I would read them over and over, pretending I was in the club. I wanted to be a babysitter so bad—"
Callum’s smile is wide and amused. I realize I’ve become too overexcited at the mention of my favorite childhood book series, bouncing on my feet and gesticulating with both hands. I shake my head at myself, a little sheepish, and a piece of hair falls in my face, "Sorry—"
"Don't apologize," Callum murmurs, reaching toward me, and his fingers gently push the fallen hair back. They're warm as they brush against my cheek and my ear, leaving a trail of tingles in their wake.
I freeze at the contact, eyes locking for a long moment as my heart speeds up in my chest. Suddenly, his hand is gone, and he shifts a little uncomfortably on his feet. I take another bite of my banana bread, hoping the awkward moment passes by.
Callum clears his throat before teasing, "I uh... I like it when you get passionate about books."
That makes me blush, because I know he's referring to the rather manic text rant I sent last night after reading a couple of chapters of Catch Me.
To be fair, the hero in the book is being a total ass to his love interest, and I think a certain someone has affected my reason to empathize with book heroes who purposefully hurt the ones they claim to love because of issues they won't share.
Callum just grins at my flushed cheeks, "I like how deeply you feel."
"Too much," I shrug.
He shakes his head, "Nope, no such thing."
I can't help but smile at his words. I don't think anyone has ever made me feel so seen and heard before.
Callum leans a hip against the register, crossing his arms across his broad chest, and I swallow at the sight. The navy T-shirt he's wearing hugs his shoulders in a way that does very interesting things to my belly. My eyes are drawn to his strong forearms dusted with fine dark hair.
"How are you feeling today?"
The question is asked so simply, but with so much feeling. I smile, "Today was good."
"You look good."
His neck turns red first. Then it travels up to his cheeks and all the way to his ears, amusing me even as my own stomach swoops from his compliment.
"Why thank you,” I grin.
"You're welcome," he nods, returning my grin.
He grabs the shipment of books he was working on earlier, and I follow him, following his lead and putting them in their appropriate spots. He tries to take them back, but I hold them out of his reach, protecting them with a playful glare.
"You don't have to do that, Sophie."
"I spend enough time here, might as well put me to work."
"I don't mind."
"Mind what?"
"You being here," Callum shrugs, a smile on his face. "I like hanging out with you."
I smile at him, "I like hanging out with you, too."
◆◆◆
Two weeks later, and it's easier to settle into a routine.
Even with the side effects I've started feeling from chemotherapy, I try to focus on the little things that bring me joy. I still wake up around six, have my coffee and water, take my medications, pull on something comfortable, and open my laptop for work.
It's actually a relief not having to deal with traffic or commuting into the city. I haven't needed to buy gas in ages, especially since Starling Cove is very walkable with its winding streets shaded beneath trees that are turning gold and scarlet. Autumn is fast approaching.
My next chemotherapy appointment is tomorrow, and I’m not dreading it. The hours pass quickly while working, reading, and listening to music.
I still haven't reached out to Donna or Rich to see them yet. I still need some more time, so Callum has agreed to give me rides to and from my appointments. I'm taking the advice and letting people help however they can.
Car rides don't feel like that much of a burden, especially since Callum and I have been hanging out a lot. Like real friends.
Either I'll come to Rivers & Rhodes, or we'll walk around the shops on Main Street, or around Sage Grove Park, or we'll walk down to the boardwalk.
Sometimes, we spend the time talking, him telling me stories of growing up in Starling Cove or me telling him stories about college. Sometimes, we sit in peaceful silence, just enjoying each other's company. I swear hanging out with Callum contributes more to my overall health than anything.
Callum and I will get ice cream and sit on the bench we've officially claimed as our own, and watch the sunset burn tangerine and pink over the water.
Or we'll share a basket of fries, and he pretends not to notice how my appetite has dropped.
Dr. Rajab has given me some anti-nausea medication to help, and it does, but I've still been sticking to more bland foods, such as oatmeal and fruit.
It could be worse.
I walk down the sidewalk now, heading to Rivers & Rhodes early. Book club is not for two more hours, but I want to hang out with Callum beforehand. My phone buzzes in my pocket and I know that it’s the group chat.
Tonya and Parker are night owls and mainly send their texts late into the night (technically early morning), while Jane and April are early birds due to their jobs.
April works at Rise N' Grind Coffeehouse in town and is usually up at three-thirty every morning to open the shop, while Jane thrives on routine and said she wakes up at five on the dot every morning for yoga before work.
Bailey, however, loves to sleep in, and she writes her own column—Bailey Banks On It—for an online magazine. This gives her a little more freedom to set her own schedule, allowing her to text throughout the day and night.
Atticus wakes around the same time as me to get Leo up and ready for school before heading to the garage.
Callum, though, is a bit of a wildcard in the group. He sends texts to the group at all hours of the day, but we haven't stopped talking in our own text thread.
Callum Rhodes: got you a couple of chocolate chip cookies at the bakery.
still warm.
did you ever know that you're my hero?
Callum Rhodes: Am I the wind beneath your wings?
don't quote that song to me
I'll make you watch Beaches
Callum Rhodes: already seen it.
cried like a baby.
well you are just full of surprises.
My speed might pick up at this, a little more eager to get to Rivers & Rhodes now. As I cross the street, I recognize the neon sign for Haunts up ahead, Paul’s usual bar. A sense of dread fills me, which has me picking up my pace even more.
Until I see them.
Well, I see her first.
Parked on the street across from the bar, she steps out of a very familiar sedan. Tall, blonde, stunning. She's very hard to miss.
Then he slides out of the driver's side, with short blonde curls and a handsome face, dressed in a sweater I bought him last Christmas. It's the royal blue one that I had said matched his eyes.
Quickly, I duck toward the buildings next to me, sliding into the alley between them and still feeling as exposed as a bunny with a hawk circling.
I can't take my eyes from them, no matter how much I will myself to look away.
Her pretty blonde head glances in my direction, and I try to shrink further into the shadows, cursing myself for wearing a light colored lilac sweater tonight. Not very excellent camouflage.
I had thought I looked pretty in it, and I thought maybe Callum would think so too...
When I peek around the corner, what I see feels like I’ve been kicked in the throat.
She's pinned to the car by him. The same car I had tried to talk him out of buying, thinking it would be better to trade his old SUV in for another SUV. I already had a sedan and had subtly hinted that, when we had kids, it would be nice to have the space for them.
But Paul had just said that we would trade in my car for a newer model by then, and I would get an SUV or van.
He wanted a luxury sedan, so he got one.
He cups Elise's face with both hands. That's the move he used to do on me, the one I loved and said melted me into a puddle, like my book heroes.
That man cheated on me for two months.
We didn't even know that I had cancer when he started having sex with her. It was just the possibility, and that was reason enough for him. Was it even the cancer that made him, or was it just me? Was he just tired of me? He wanted an upgraded model? A luxury model? Not the defective one.
His thumbs brush her cheeks, and she smiles, slow and dangerous against his lips, like she knows exactly what she's doing. She leans in even more and presses her mouth more firmly to his with a practiced precision. Angling her head, I can see the swirl of tongues together.
They kiss each other like it's easy and he holds her like I never even existed.
I feel sick.
I don't know how long I stare at them, but it's long enough for acid to twist violently in my belly. Elise tugs him toward the bar when they've mercifully finished their show, her fingers laced through his.
There's a painful tearing sensation in my chest, and I can't even tell if I'm breathing right. My fingers go numb where they grip the tote bag over my shoulder. I blindly reach out my other hand and feel the rough brick of the building next to me.
It comes fast and ugly. I bend over and vomit, emptying my stomach onto the alley concrete..
My imagination was already awful, but it's another thing to actually see it. This is probably how they looked when Paul and I were still together. While they found comfort in each other, I thought about dying young and making sure I planned my funeral and made a will to make things easier for Paul.
I considered asking him to elope if the news turned out to be terminal, so that I could be his wife before I left.
All of those feelings and thoughts I've been shoving down come bursting out of me. I dry heave until my core muscles ache and the meager contents of my stomach are on the ground.
Keeping my head down, I turn back the way I came and start the journey back home, hand over my mouth to try and muffle the sobs tearing from my throat.
I guess I was nothing but a starter model for Paul, traded in for the upgraded luxury model.
My phone buzzes with a text.
Callum Rhodes: are you on your way?
do you need me to pick you up?
Through blurred vision and with shaky fingers, I type back.
can't come tonight.
I'm sorry.
Callum Rhodes: Is everything okay?
Sophie?
I'm okay.
I'm not okay. I need you, but I'm scared you'll leave, and if you do, you will take all the fight I have with you...
Callum Rhodes: Are you sure?
Do you need anything?
My fingers hover over the keyboard. I can't bring myself to answer Callum because if I do, I'll end up telling him the truth. I'll tell him that I'm still broken over someone who callously cheated on me and seems to be moving on so easily with his life, while I'm here, feeling alone.
I'll tell him how worthless and replaceable I feel.
I'll tell him to please leave now, if he ever thinks he could, and save me the agony.
I'll tell him I need him to please hold me and not let me go.
I don't want Callum to see me like this, weak and pathetic and crying over a man who doesn't deserve it.
talk to you tomorrow.
I send the text and turn my phone off, hustling the rest of the way into my apartment building. Fatigue aches in my legs as I wait for the elevator, praying no one gets on with me.
When I finally make it into my apartment, I lock the door and lean my back against it. My sobs have calmed, my breath hitching only slightly as I try to focus on my breathing.
I feel dirty and gross and low.
I need to do something, a complete reset.
A nice, relaxing, hot shower where I can try to wash off the sweat from the walk home and ease the too-tight feeling on my skin.
Brush my teeth to get rid of the foul taste in my mouth from vomiting.
Scrub the entire day away, let it slip down the drain, and start fresh tomorrow.
I start the shower and brush my teeth, before stripping off my clothes and tossing them into the hamper. The hot water feels nice on my skin, and I try to focus on that feeling rather than the cold misery coursing through my veins.
The images taunt me, flashes of kissing, tongues, passion, and heat. They kissed in a way he hadn't kissed me in forever. I flinch, grabbing the shampoo to give me something to focus on. I use my nails to scrub my scalp, rinse, then repeat.
If I scrub hard enough, maybe I can wash all these memories out of my head.
I run my hands through my hair as I rinse, and then I freeze.
I knew it was going to happen. You always see it on television and in movies when someone has cancer. I'm not naive enough to think that it wouldn't happen to me, but I guess it was nice to pretend and forget about it for a while.
Reluctantly pulling my hands away from my head, I see dark strands of hair covering my fingers like webbing. I place my hands under the stream of water and watch as the hair falls to the shower floor, swirling toward the drain.
It hits me all at once.
All that I've lost, all that I'm still losing, and all that I'm going to lose.
My fiancé, my health, my planned future, and my hair—which sounds awful that I'm placing it in the same category as those other infinitely more important things.
It's just hair, it'll grow back, but it's my hair, and it makes me feel pretty.
It's falling out, goddamnit, and I can't do anything to stop it.
And despite me having so many people in my corner right now—my sister, my book club, Donna and Rich, Maeve.
Callum...
I still feel so alone.
Tears mix with the warm water of the shower. Carefully, I sit down in the tub and let the water cascade over my body. The dark strands of hair slip down to the porcelain and rush to the drain, clumping together.
I can't take my eyes off of it.