Chapter 7
SEVEN
“Oh, my God, Tess.” Callie leaned toward the mirror and smoothed on a thin layer of makeup primer.
“Thank you for telling me about Renaissance Island. This place is so relaxing. Yesterday afternoon, a dude named Sven pummeled me into massage-drunk jelly, and the snorkeling trip this morning was incredible. The water’s so clear and warm and calm it’s like a baby’s bath. ”
Her cell was resting on the bathroom vanity, the speaker activated so she could continue getting ready for the upcoming sit-down interview, where she and Thomas would discuss the three island options and end all faux-suspense by choosing one of them for the rest of the trip.
“I know, right?” Tess gave a rueful laugh. “Although I have to admit, I probably spent more time on the tennis courts than on the beach.”
“The beaches are gorgeous, but Thomas and I met Lucas just before dinner last night.” Callie said, carefully mixing a squirt of her foundation with a dollop of moisturizer on the back of her hand. “I can safely say you made the right decision. Damn, woman.”
Lucas was a tall drink of twenty-something hotness, and no one could blame Tess for gulping him down. Even better: When Callie had mentioned her friend’s name, his face had softened and lit in a way that was almost painful to witness.
He clearly adored Tess. Enough that he was finishing out his contract with the resort and planning a move to Virginia. So yeah, Callie had approved of him. Wholeheartedly.
“Is Thomas there with you right now?” Tess sounded cautious. “Or can you talk freely?”
After showering, dressing in the bathroom, and giving her a tender, sweet buss on her temple, he’d gone out to get them a belated breakfast from the little café on the first floor. Given his usual speed of decision-making and movement, she figured she had plenty of time to chat.
“He’s grabbing food.” She sponged the foundation mixture over her face and neck, blending the edges thoroughly into her skin until no line of demarcation remained.
“And that brings me to the other reason I owe you a big thank-you. He and I are together now. Like, boyfriend-and-girlfriend, drawing-hearts-in-the-sand-with-our-initials-inside together.”
A long pause. “What?”
Callie loaded up her little highlighter brush. “I said, Thomas and I are dating now, and I’m so grateful you convinced me to come here. Thank you.”
Another, longer pause. “Are you joking?”
“No.” Tess hit the inner corners of her eyes and her cheekbones.
Total silence.
“Honey, I have time, but not all day.” No need for blush, not after how the sun and water had conquered her sunscreen that morning. “Whatever you want to say, spit it out.”
“Callie…” Her friend spoke slowly. “You hate Thomas.”
She frowned down at the phone. Eye makeup would have to wait.
“No, I don’t,” she said.
“Uh, yeah.” Tess didn’t sound combative. More befuddled. “Yeah, you do.”
“I don’t think I ever hated him. Not really.
” She’d been thinking about that over the past few days.
A lot. “I’ve had a hard couple of years, and changing jobs is really stressful.
Not to mention how bad things got with Andre in the end.
I think I was looking for a scapegoat, and Thomas served that purpose. ”
She flicked on the water to wash some stray highlighter from her fingers, and the plumbing made an odd sort of thunk.
“I hear what you’re saying.” Tess’s words almost dripped with doubt.
“But Cal, during almost every conversation we’ve had over the past four months, you’ve either raged or cried about how he’s screwing you over at the library.
Because of him, you’ve spent your workdays stressed to the point where you might as well buy stock in anti-anxiety meds. ”
Callie bit her lip and stared down into the sink, rinsing away the soap and letting the cool water rush over her wrists. Sometimes that trick helped calm her when she got overwhelmed, and sometimes it didn’t. But it was worth a try.
Tess wasn’t finished. “Those complaints weren’t the product of any frustration and loneliness you were experiencing in other areas of your life.
Andre didn’t somehow make certain you never had a moment to breathe on the desk, and job transition stress didn’t ensure you were always scheduled alongside Thomas.
One man caused those problems, Cal. Thomas.
I can’t count how many times you told me you couldn’t stand to see his face behind the desk. That you loathed working with him.”
Swallowing over such a dry throat hurt.
“And after three days sharing a hotel room, you’re apparently dating the man.
So please forgive me if I’m a bit confused and concerned.
” Tess’s Vice Principal Voice softened and lowered.
“I don’t want you hurt. I don’t like the idea of someone taking advantage of a fraught situation to get closer to you.
And I don’t see how you could make a relationship with him work when you want to rip out his throat after every shift together. ”
At that, Callie’s spine stiffened, and she turned off the water. Which made a weird thump again, but whatever. They could call maintenance later.
“He didn’t take advantage of me.” When Tess started to say something, Callie overrode her. “I mean it. He didn’t even want to kiss me during this trip, because he wanted to be absolutely sure our circumstances weren’t responsible for my attraction to him.”
“Well, I guess that’s something,” Tess muttered.
“And he doesn’t mean any harm at work. He just doesn’t multitask well, and I don’t know if he could change that even if he wanted to.” Callie drummed an eyeliner pencil against the vanity. “I understand him better now, so I don’t think I’ll get as frustrated as I used to.”
“Okay.” Tess didn’t sound convinced.
To be fair, the argument did sound a bit weak when spoken aloud.
Callie checked the time on her phone display and gave a little, panicked shriek. “Oh, shit. I need to go, Tess. We’ll talk later, all right?”
“Sounds good.” Her friend hesitated. “Just…take good care of yourself, sweetie. Please.”
Callie couldn’t help but smile, despite the renewed worries crowding her mind. “Such a mother hen.”
They said goodbye, and Callie tried to concentrate on finishing her eye makeup. Just after she emerged from the bathroom, a loud knock sounded at the door.
She looked through the peephole. Good Lord, had Thomas lost his keycard again?
“You’re a mess, McKinney. We need to clip your card to your pocket somehow,” she said as she opened the door. “Do you remember where you last saw it?”
Thomas didn’t answer, and he didn’t come inside the room.
Instead, he handed her one of two paper bags and glanced down at the subtle swirls of the carpet. His mouth opened, but he pressed it shut again.
Oh, no. She’d hurt his feelings.
She laid a hand on his cheek, still smooth from his morning shave.
It was hot beneath her palm, brushed with hectic color as if he too had stayed out in the sun too long.
“I was just teasing, Thomas. You’re not a mess.
People lose their keycards all the time.
If you need another one, we’ll get it. And I don’t mind keeping mine handy for the both of us. ”
He stepped back from the contact, and her hand fell to her side.
“I’ll give you some privacy to keep getting ready.” He was so quiet, she could barely hear him. “Take your time, and I’ll meet you and the crew in the lobby.”
When he finally met her eyes, he offered her a smile.
It was weak and fleeting and not at all like Thomas, and she felt like a monster.
Oh, God, they were going to have to talk about this, weren’t they? “But—”
She’d waited too long.
“But I am ready,” she told the closed door.
* * *
Callie had loathed him.
Loathed him.
All those months on the desk, Thomas had thought she’d grown distant because of difficulties with Andre or her family or something else in her private life.
But no. She’d distanced herself from him because she couldn’t stand the sight of his face. Because he made her cry, rage, and become anxious.
Even before this trip, he’d thought they were friends of a sort. And while he’d wanted much, much more than that, he’d taken comfort in having any type of relationship with such an amazing woman. But the entire time, he’d been making her life harder, making her miserable, and making her hate him.
In a far corner of the sunshine-hued lobby, an armchair lurked behind the fronds of a potted bush. He sank into its cushion and covered his face with shaking hands.
Every shift they’d spent together for the past four months, he’d orchestrated.
Timed his schedule requests so he could be near her as often as possible, without ever thinking about whether that was what she wanted.
And then, during those shifts, he’d tried his best to block her out so he could concentrate on patron questions, just as he did with all his other coworkers.
The only difference: She’d never left his mind. Not entirely.
But fumbling pencils when she bit her lip or admiring her efficiency at locating the exact right journal article for a patron wasn’t the same thing as actually paying attention to her.
Not as his fantasy, the object of his desire. But as Callie Adesso, a subject in her own right, with wants and needs and goals at work that might not match his own.
Did all his other coworkers secretly hate working with him too? Did they sigh with relief every time they glanced at the schedule and saw that, once again, Callie would serve as the sacrificial librarian for the entire department?
She rarely worked with any of the others, not given the schedule Thomas ensured for her. Had that—had he—stopped her from making closer ties at the library? Was he the reason she never went to the bar with them anymore, or to dinner after the library closed?
He could envision her standing behind the desk, facing an onslaught of patrons alone. How many times had he registered that sight in a distracted glance, and then turned back to his own work without offering a single bit of help?
So many lines. She’d dispatched so many lines of people with seeming ease, with seeming happiness, but thinking back, he could recognize that tight smile. That glassy stare. That veneer of calm and professionalism hiding profound anxiety.
He’d believed the mask.
No, that was offering him too much credit.
He hadn’t even bothered to question it.
Should he leave the library? But what in the world could he possibly do instead?
Several years as an adjunct professor at Marysburg University and multiple failed bids for tenure-track jobs had proven him entirely too scattered, too unambitious, and too slow for a life in academia.
Teaching at a public school, from what he’d heard, would require even more efficiency.
And if he tried to lead tours through the historic area, they’d probably last a decade each.
What other people think, what they might expect or want from me, doesn’t concern me, he’d told Callie yesterday. And he’d done so with…
Not pride. Not exactly. But total acceptance. An assumption that he couldn’t and didn’t need to change that about himself. That his obliviousness was, at worst, a harmless character quirk. When all the while he’d been hurting the woman he loved, and maybe all his other coworkers too.
The shame of it. He’d never experienced anything like the shame that burned his cheeks and shuddered through his body and roiled his stomach.
That shame and a terrible, grinding grief had nearly brought him to his knees just inside the hotel room door, listening to her phone conversation over the sound of running water.
He’d lost her. Lost her, before he even truly had her. Because how could he possibly believe Callie wanted a future with him? Every time they worked together, she’d remember what he’d done to her. How oblivious he’d been to her needs and desires. How could she ever trust him?
And how could he possibly assume this change of heart, her profession of interest, was anything but the psychological effect of days spent in the same bed, in the same space, pretending to be in love on camera? A cable-television, tropical version of Stockholm Syndrome?
He couldn’t.
He couldn’t.
Confrontations and awkward, emotionally fraught discussions made her anxious. Gave her hives. So he wasn’t going to inflict one on her, because he was done hurting Callie Adesso.
Instead, he’d fake a smile for this last on-camera interview, wave off the HATV crew, and leave her the hell alone. Let her enjoy her vacation and recover from the stress he’d inflicted on her for months. Talk to their supervisor and try to change his schedule as soon as they returned home.
And he’d do it even through this tearing ache in his chest.
For her. For Callie, the woman he loved.
Because avoiding her, he finally understood, was the best way to show that love.