Chapter 36
LILY
Ruth's diner in the late afternoon is the calmest it ever gets. The lunch rush has cleared out and the dinner crowd hasn't arrived yet, leaving just a handful of regulars scattered across booths and the low hum of the radio playing something with a fiddle.
Callahan and I have claimed our usual spot in the corner, the one with the view of Main Street and the afternoon light coming through the window at an angle that makes everything look golden.
He has his arm around my shoulders, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my neck, the curve behind my ear. I'm tucked into his side like I belong there, which I do, which I have for months now, which I will for four more weeks before everything changes.
We don't talk about that. We've agreed, silently, mutually, to stop talking about it for a while. I've done my planning with Rome. I've made the arrangements for Chicago, for the apartment I'll be subletting, for the life that's waiting for me in a city that doesn't have him in it.
It's only two weeks until Poppy's wedding. Two weeks after that, I leave.
But right now, in this booth, with his fingers on my skin and his body warm against mine, none of that exists. Right now there's just us and the afternoon light and Ruth pretending not to watch us from behind the counter.
He's wearing a white t-shirt that's doing criminal things to his shoulders and black sweats that sit low on his hips in a way that should be illegal in this fine family establishment.
His hair is the shortest I've ever seen it, cropped close on the sides, a little longer on top, and being more outside lately has given his skin a bronzed glow that makes his green eyes stand out like sea glass against sand.
He looks like summer. He looks like a wet dream casually walking around. He looks like mine, which he is, which makes me the luckiest woman in Harbor Hill and possibly the entire eastern seaboard.
"Seeing you like this," I tell him, reaching up to run my fingers through the short hair at his temple, "I'm thinking you'd look hot as fuck in a buzz cut."
"I'll do it after the wedding if you want.”
"I need a trim too. It's gotten a little long." I tug at the ends of my hair, which have grown longer than I usually keep it.
"I'm sure I'll love it, baby," he murmurs, and presses a kiss to my temple that makes my eyes close.
His fingers continue their slow path along my neck, finding the spot where the muscle has been tense all day.
"Neck still stiff?" he asks.
I mumble yes against his neck and kiss him there because I can't help it. I love this thing we have, this easy intimacy where we just stay close and touch each other, trading light kisses like currency, like something we've been doing forever instead of months.
"It's alright," I tell him, smiling up at him. "Worth it."
We took a nap together this afternoon, tangled up in my bed with my head on his arm, our mouths so close we were breathing each other's air.
I couldn't move without waking him and I didn't want to move anyway, so I stayed there for two hours and now my neck is paying the price and I don't regret a single second.
He lifts my face with his fingers under my chin and drops a sweet peck on my lips.
"I'll massage it again later," he promises.
"Keep your dirty talk down, please."
Ruth materializes beside our booth like she was summoned by the mere suggestion of impropriety. She's holding a coffee pot and wearing an expression of theatrical disapproval.
"Ruth." Callahan sighs. "It's just a massage for her stiff neck. Why are you like this?"
"Because you look at her like you want to eat her at all times, so whatever you say is trouble for sure."
I giggle and Callahan's cheeks flush pink, which only makes me giggle harder. This man who has done unspeakable things to my body, blushing at Ruth's teasing like a schoolboy caught passing notes.
"Stop that," he scolds me, but there's no heat in it. "She'll think what she heard is true."
"So what you're saying is you don't look at me like you want to eat me?" I ask, widening my eyes in mock innocence.
"Ruth. Go away so I can say what I want to little miss Trouble here."
"Nah." Ruth tops off coffee cups, clearly settling in. "I'm good."
I'm still smiling when Cherry walks in like she owns the place, which she doesn't, which she never has, which hasn't stopped her from acting like it for as long as anyone can remember.
Her eyes scan the room and land on us in our corner booth, on Callahan's arm around my shoulders, on the way I'm pressed against his side, and ice moves across her face before she rearranges it into what she must think is friendly.
Ruth rolls her eyes so hard I'm surprised they don't get stuck.
"Lord, this girl has no self-preservation." She nods at me, the look of a woman who has seen things go sideways in her diner before and doesn't want to mop up the aftermath. "Be good."
She leaves us, but not by much. She positions herself behind the counter with a clear sightline to our booth, ready to spectate and get a full report.
Cherry approaches with her shoulders back and her smile fixed, stopping at the edge of our table like she's been invited.
"Cal," she purrs, and the familiarity in her voice makes my teeth itch. "Can we meet up one evening to discuss the safety measures for the summer festival?"
The summer festival. The one that happens in July. The one I won't be here for.
Callahan's grip tightens briefly on my shoulder before relaxing again.
He reaches for one of his fries, and instead of eating it himself, he brings it to my mouth.
I take it, smiling, and he kisses my lips while I'm still chewing, like we have all the time in the world and Cherry isn't standing three feet away watching.
When he finally cuts his gaze to her, his expression is pleasant and completely closed.
"You'll have to take it up with Talia," he says. "She's responsible for it this year."
Cherry's smile flickers. "But you've always been responsible for it. And I'm in charge of the committee this year, so it would be fun to plan together. Just the two of us."
"I know you changed the committee assignments this year." Callahan's voice is mild, almost friendly, but I know him well enough to hear the steel underneath. "Which is why Talia will be handling it this time around."
He feeds me another fry. Kisses my lips again. Takes his time about it.
I'm trying very hard not to smirk. I settle for overeating fries and leaning further into his warmth, letting my body speak for me.
His hand drops from my shoulder to rest just above my left breast, his fingers playing with the neckline of my tank top, caressing the bare skin there with lazy ownership.
Cherry's face turns to stone, all pretense of friendliness drops away and what's left is something sharp and bitter.
"What's gotten into you, Cal Holt?" She gestures at us with undisguised disgust. "You were never like this." Her lip curls. "Or this cruel."
I want to say something. I want to remind her about the rumors she spread, the lies she told, the way she tried to stake a claim on a man who was never hers and never would be. But before I can open my mouth, Callahan speaks.
"I'm finally putting a stop to your manipulations." His voice is calm but his eyes are hard. "Stay in your lane, Cherry, far away. And stop your lies."
He presses a kiss to my temple, slow and sweet, and when he speaks again his voice carries across the diner.
"And while you're at it, stay far away from my girl from now on."
Cherry stands there for a moment, frozen, her face cycling through emotions I can't be bothered to catalog. Then she turns on her heel and walks out, the door swinging shut behind her with a force that makes the bell clatter.
I turn in Callahan's arms to kiss him properly, my mouth finding his with all the giddy relief of a battle won without having to fight it.
Something hits the side of my head. A bunched-up paper napkin bounces off and lands on the table.
"Keep your tongue out of her mouth, Cal Holt." Ruth is glaring at us from behind the counter, another napkin already balled up in her hand and ready to throw. "There are children here."
We laugh into our kiss.
"We gotta go.” He pulls out his wallet and drops bills on the table without counting them, then feeds me one last fry.
I take it, grinning at him, and he leans close to my ear.
"Because I very much want my tongue in your mouth," he says quietly, his breath warm on my skin. "And your cunt."
We make the short distance to my apartment across the street in record time.