Chapter 33
CALLUM
On hold.
What was I supposed to say to that? It’s not like I had a choice. I didn’t get to say yes or no. It just was what it was.
I had no idea what to do with this feeling.
I was the one who left. I was the one who never called back.
I thought about every woman I’d ever walked away from without a second thought.
And I felt, for the first time, something very close to shame about all of it.
I’d taken that choice away from all those women without a second thought.
I had made up my mind and I didn’t care if they agreed with it or not.
They had probably felt something like this.
And I had caused it without losing a single night’s sleep over it. I had never thought about it at all.
They all deserved better than me. So did Victoria. Maybe the best thing I could do for her was exactly what she was asking for, except permanently. Let her go. Stop trying to fix something that I had broken. She had built her life from nothing and she didn’t need me showing up to wreck it.
I heard footsteps and frowned. Dash and Krista were out. That could only mean one person—Drew. He didn’t come into the living room, which meant he was probably raiding my kitchen. Or I could have a squatter moving in.
I forced myself to get up and go find out if I was being robbed. Oddly enough, I couldn’t be bothered to care. Hell, I might hand the burglar the keys if they asked. As expected, it was Drew making himself a sandwich.
“Why are you in my kitchen” I asked.
“You always have the good sandwich stuff.” He slapped the sandwich together and took a bite. “Also, I got a call,” he said around a mouthful.
“A call?”
“Said you were up half the night beating the shit out of the punching bag,” he said. “And judging by the way you look, I suspect there was some scotch involved.”
“So you came here to raid my fridge and give me workout advice?”
“Yep. And distract you.”
I groaned and scrubbed a hand over my stubble. “I don’t need a distraction.”
“What happened with Victoria?”
“She wants space,” I said. “Until after the show.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know. I think it means she dumped me and is trying to let me down easy.”
He nodded as he chewed. “Okay,” he said finally. “Get changed. We’re going out.”
“I don’t want to go out.”
“I know you don’t. That’s why we’re going.
” He waved his sandwich at me. “You need to remember who you are before you completely lose yourself in this. You’re moping around this massive house like a guy who doesn’t have everything.
” He gestured broadly at the kitchen. “Get dressed. One drink. We’ll see how it goes.
Just don’t punch anything until your get home, okay? ”
I stood there and thought about it. I thought about sitting on the couch alone staring at my phone all night waiting for a message that wasn’t coming. Or spending the night drinking while trying to wear myself out with physical exertion.
“Fine,” I said. “One drink.”
Drew grinned. “There he is.”
“Clean up your mess, you savage,” I muttered and walked out.
I showered and dressed without putting much effort into it. I wasn’t trying to impress anyone. I just needed to get out of the house for a while. A change of surroundings would help break the downward spiraling thoughts in my head.
The club was the kind of place I used to like.
Dark and loud with low lighting and expensive bottles of liquor.
The kind of crowd that showed up to be seen as much as to have a good time.
Drew knew the owner. We got a table without waiting, which I appreciated because the line outside was around the block.
I was not in the mood to stand in it. I wouldn’t have stood in it, but then again, Blackwells were usually VIPs.
The music was the typical bass stuff with few words. It was loud enough to drown out my thoughts, which was good enough for me. I never really paid attention to the music. Most of the fun came from people-watching.
I looked around. Beautiful people everywhere. Women in dresses that were basically a few scraps of fabric that covered up the fun bits. Men who were groomed to within an inch of their lives and clearly very pleased with the display of skin all around.
It was a Friday night in Los Angeles. The same kind of thing I’d done a hundred times before.
It used to be my playground. Me, Drew, and whatever brother was up for a good time.
There were plenty of women that noticed us.
I was used to it and normally I welcomed it.
It was options. Options with no strings.
But tonight it didn’t feel the same as it used to.
Drew was already talking to a woman at the bar.
He had a gift. I watched him and tried to remember what it felt like to want that.
To walk into a room like this and feel the energy of it and think of the possibility.
There was a time when I had. It wasn’t all that long ago.
I would have been right there beside Drew hitting on one of the other women.
All the bright strobing lights, the loud music, and the dull hum of conversation felt mundane. Blah. Gray. I took a drink of the scotch I’d ordered and turned away from the crowd, looking down at the table instead.
I’m Callum fucking Blackwell. I needed to remember who I was before Victoria had come along and rewired my entire nervous system. The club was the first step in that plan. Unfortunately, the plan was not working.
Drew reappeared and dropped into the seat across from me. He was holding two fresh drinks. He set one in front of me. “Her friend is very pretty,” he said. “Very interested in meeting Callum Blackwell.”
“Not happening,” I said.
He didn’t push it.
I drank and looked around some more. A couple was dancing near the edge of the stage. The woman had her face turned up toward the man and she was laughing at something he said. He was looking at her like she was the only person in the building. They were completely lost in one another.
I picked up my glass and drank. I needed to drown the angst. I wanted to forget how happy I’d been. If I didn’t remember the joy, I wouldn’t feel the pain.
I missed Victoria. I missed waking up to her moving around my room. I missed watching her eat. I missed the sound of her laughing at something on TV. Missed the smell of her lotion that always transferred to me. Her hair tickling my nose in the middle of the night.
I missed her.
“Hey, are you dying at the table?” Drew asked.
“I think I might be.”
He nodded slowly. “You know what I think? I think you can’t fix this tonight.” He shrugged one shoulder. “I think you can choose to be miserable or choose to drink and dance.”
“I want to fix it,” I said.
“I know, but giving her space right now is the only thing in your power. So do it right. Don’t half-ass it. Don’t text her at midnight because you’re sitting here and you can’t stand it.” He pointed at me. “You hear me? No drunk texting. That’s not giving her space.”
“I wasn’t going to text her,” I said.
I sat back and looked at the ceiling for a moment. I needed to get my shit together. It wasn’t healthy to keep dwelling on something I couldn’t change. I thought again about all the women I’d left without a second thought. One after another. Was this how they got over me? Did I hurt them?
I had always told myself it didn’t matter.
They all knew what they signed up for when they went home with me.
But what if they didn’t? What if some of them had real feelings for me?
I hadn’t thought I was capable of meaning anything to someone when I wasn’t even trying, but now I was rethinking that.
A woman appeared at my elbow, rather practically on my elbow. I looked up when she touched my shoulder. She was beautiful. Dark hair, dark eyes, a red dress that had been painted on. She leaned against the table with one hand and smiled at me with come-hither eyes.
“You look lonely,” she said.
“I’m fine.”
She slid into the seat across from me anyway. Drew had vacated it twenty minutes ago and I hadn’t seen him since. Somewhere in the crowd with his new friend, no doubt.
“I’ve been watching you since you walked in,” she said.
I wrinkled my nose. “Weird.”
She ignored my judgment. “You haven’t smiled once.”
“Maybe I don’t like being stared at,” I said, wanting her to just leave me the fuck alone.
She tilted her head. “I could make you smile.”
I looked at her. She was exactly the kind of woman I would have entertained six months ago. Hell, eight weeks ago. Before a curly-haired woman walked into my orbit and ruined everything that came before her and apparently was going to ruin everything after her.
“I appreciate the thought,” I said. “I genuinely do. But I’m not the guy you want to talk to tonight.”
She blinked, like she couldn’t believe anyone would turn her down. “Who said anything about talking?”
“Christ, lady,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Go find someone who’s interested. My brother is out on the dance floor somewhere. He’s got a huge yacht and a lot of free time. See if you can find him.”
She stared at me, trying to decide if I was playing some kind of angle. Then she straightened up, smoothed her dress, and asked, “What’s his name?”
I grinned. “Drew. He looks a lot like me, except he smiles more. I know that’s something you care about.”
She walked away. I watched her go and felt nothing. The only thing she made me want was another fucking drink. I flagged down the server and ordered another.
I lost track of how many I had after that.
Drew found me at some point and said he was leaving with the woman from earlier.
I told him to go. He gave me a look that said he was debating whether leaving me alone was a good idea.
I walked out with him and showed him the Uber I ordered.
Satisfied, he went off to have the kind of wild night old me would have wanted.
Would I ever be that man again? If, God forbid, Victoria broke things off completely, would I bounce back eventually to become the old me, or would I be changed forever by the time we had spent together?
I was drunk. Properly numb with my head a mess of jumbled thoughts. It made the ride home more pleasant. I was back by one. Dash and Krista were nowhere to be seen, long asleep presumably. That was good. As the Drew’s date had found out, I wasn’t the best man to have a conversation with tonight.
I went to the kitchen and poured two fingers of whatever was closest. I carried it outside and stretched out on one of the lounge chairs. The cool breeze felt good on my heated skin.
I stared out at my expensive view and drank, looking in the general direction of Victoria’s apartment.
There was no way to see it from here, and I was probably looking the wrong way, but logic wasn’t important in that moment.
What was she doing? Was she thinking about me?
Missing me? Had she already written me off and was just trying to figure out how to let me down gently?
My eyelids were heavy. Finally. Finally, sweet oblivion was calling me. I downed the last of my drink, dropped the glass on the table, and let the world fade away.