5. Noelle #3
My leg wobbled, threatening to give out, but Cal latched onto my arm, pulling me towards him. I hated that I had to hold on to him for balance. The softness of his sherpa-lined denim trucker jacket almost made me want to linger an extra moment.
Almost.
The minute I was steady enough to not face-plant in the grass, I yanked out of his grip. His touch was too familiar. After all these years, it still made me feel too much.
“I’m not happy about the decisions my idiot self made in the past, and I’ve regretted them daily for the last decade, but I’m not going to stand here and let you walk all over me either.
” Tears burned my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.
Being here. Being with him. It brought all the old memories to the surface.
I’d spent years trying to forget this place, forget him.
Trying to redeem my past. But the past had come calling anyway.
“I’m sorry,” I choked, my fingernails biting into my palm as I made a fist. But I welcomed the physical pain—it kept the unruly wave of tears at bay.
“More than you’ll ever know. I . . .” All the grand speeches I’d practiced in front of the mirror failed me.
I couldn’t remember a single one. “Forgiveness feels like too much to ask, and I know I don’t deserve it.
But please know, I’m so sorry. For leaving. For hurting you.”
Cal huffed softly. “I think we passed sorry a long time ago, don’t you?”
I wrapped my arms across my waist, trying to shield my bruised heart from the barbs. “I’m not sure what else to say,” I whispered.
We stared at each other for a minute. I willed him to say something—anything—but he just studied me with a blank expression. Cal had always been an open book, easy to read. Like my favourite worn-out paperback copy of Persuasion. Now, I was trying to read hieroglyphics—and I was no Egyptologist.
“Okay then!” Ruby’s cheerful voice called across the field, breaking the spell. “Now that Chernobyl has settled itself, let’s get to it.”
We both flinched, forgetting our audience. Just like old times when we were the only two people in the world.
I gaped at her. “You mean . . . this was real? Not a ruse?”
Ruby stared at me like I’d announced the earth was flat (not buying into that conspiracy, thank you very much). “Uh, no. I want that position, and if I can make the Hatfields and McCoys look good on camera, I’ve got this in the bag.”
“We’re not—” I stammered.
“We are,” Cal said simply, adjusting his backwards cap. “Let’s get this over with.”
Exactly what every girl wanted to hear.
“We’re gonna start easy,” Ruby announced, fiddling with her camera settings. “Cal, take her hand and start walking towards me. Remember, happy thoughts!”
“We doing this?” Cal asked in a flat tone.
“You tell me.”
His lips twitched. “Is that a dare, Holiday?” He was speaking to my competitive side, and he knew it. “Think you can look at me adoringly?” He prowled closer, holding his hand out. “Like you’re in love with me?”
My stupid heart beat faster. Oh, I should win an Oscar for this performance. I slipped my hand in his, tingles shooting up my arm as our fingers laced. Breathe. It’s just like kissing but with your fingers. Well, that thought sure didn’t help. “Can you?”
“Looking at you has never been a hardship.”
“Okay, you two, love the chemistry!” Ruby hollered, shutter clicking. “Time for a hug.”
Chemistry? We were two seconds away from an argument. At least I think we were. But Cal radiated smugness as he tugged me into a loose hug.
“Relax,” he whispered, warm breath tickling the loose hair at my temple. “You’re as stiff as a mannequin.”
“You in the habit of hugging mannequins?” I muttered, but forced myself to relax. Okay, my shoulders stopped hugging my ears. Baby steps.
“Whisper something in her ear, Cal!” Ruby instructed, the click click click of her camera shutter officially grating on my nerves.
Cal ducked his head, till his lips nearly touched my ear. “What’d the corn say when someone paid him a compliment?”
“Corn jokes? Really?”
“Answer the question.”
“No idea.”
“Aw, shucks.”
I laughed, and this one wasn’t fake or forced. In the history of Cal’s jokes, this was one of his better ones. Maybe being a dad had unlocked the already corny potential. “Oh, I bet you’re a riot with the dad jokes.”
“Sweetheart, you have no idea.”
The laughter died on my lips, and I stared at him. Sweetheart. The soft endearment tried to worm through my defenses.
Cal stared back at me, a mix of surprise and pain crossing his face. Clearly he hadn’t meant for it to slip out.
Ruby continued to rearrange us to her heart’s content, like we were her childhood dolls.
Cal said very little after that—unusual for him since he’d always been the chatty one—and I spent the next hour torturing myself in his arms, smiling and laughing at all the right times.
Following a script like I had most of my life: don’t step out of line, don’t get angry, fake the smile, never complain, hold it together.
It was just another performance.
Pretending to be in love with the man I’d never forgotten.