Chapter 17
Callie
Oliver Rhodes is … everything.
Everything I’ve hoped for, dreamed of, imagined. All in one perfect package. I mean, the man can’t keep a plant alive. No, that’s what I bring to the table. No one is actually perfect, I guess. But it’s really all about balance.
And right now, my heart is perfectly off-kilter from the balance this man brings to my life.
“Calloway?” Connie slips up beside me at the electric kettle, causing me to jump.
Stilted laughter tumbles from my lips. “You scared me.”
A soft smile graces her lovely face. “Sorry. Oliver’s doing really well,” she whispers, nodding to my fake boyfriend lounging on the couch with Prescott, Imogene, and our parents.
I frown. “Where’s Chris?”
Connie lifts a brow. “He went to bed a while ago.”
“No wonder there seems to be so much more air in here,” I grumble.
Connie chuckles. “He said he walked in on you two this morning … right in the middle of things?” Dainty ruby brows reach her hairline.
I don’t bother hiding my blanche. “We … he … clothed … ” I sputter.
Her musical laughter surrounds us. “Relax, Calloway. He only said it privately to me.”
My relief is euphoric. “Thank all the hot chocolate gods.”
Clearly not done torturing me, Connie leans in closer. “How is all that going?”
Any of my remaining relief flies out the very large windows across the room. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, when I walked in on you earlier, it didn’t look … fake.”
“Psh,” I wave her off, “you are loco, girlfriend.” I force out some laughter for good measure. Returning to my cocoa, the weight of her stare practically rips my head in two.
“Calloway.” Apparently, she’s had enough. “Talk to me. Please?”
A quick glance around the kitchen tells me what I already know—that no one else is paying us any attention. Sighing, I look my sister square in the eye. “We only promised to do this through the holidays.” Sorrow weighs down every syllable.
“Do you love him?” she asks. So simply, as if that’s the only question that matters in the entire universe.
Connie has always been my favorite. Though her loyalty has always remained with her twin, she has made sure I’ve been seen my entire life by someone in our family.
She’s made sure I have never been forgotten in the midst of life with my overachieving siblings.
And I love her dearly for it.
But she thinks in black and white. Absolutes. Right and wrong.
Why and why not.
If I tell her the truth, she’ll think it’s as simple as telling Oliver how I feel.
If I lie, she’ll say it should be easy to move on.
Setting down my favorite blue mug with snowflakes all over it, the one which Oliver currently holds the mate to, I look at my closest sister. Nothing but care waits in her eyes when they meet mine. “Connie, I’ve only known him for about a month.”
“So?”
“So, how can you fall in love with someone in such a short amount of time?” Pursing my lips, I furrow my brow.
My sister sighs. “Sometimes, you just know. And there’s no other way to explain it.”
“What about you?” I ask pointedly.
Connie’s eyes search the depths of mine, her own pain begging for a front row seat. “I know there will never be anyone else for me, either.”
Nodding, I add Cool Whip to my cocoa. “Do you think you’ll ever do anything about that?”
“I think—” Connie runs a hand through her loose hair “—that I don’t want to lose my best friend.”
“He loves you too, you know.” My comment is only met with silence. When I finally peek in her direction, my heart breaks a little more.
Wiping a single tear from her cheek, Connie sniffs.
“I want him to be happy,” she says, “and he’s chosen a career that’s not really suitable for our kind of family life.
He’s amazing at what he does and I’m not going to stand in the way of that.
But you, on the other hand, have a chance at a real relationship.
That man over there has feelings for you—anyone can see that.
And I don’t mean the fake kind to put on a show for our family. ”
Following her line of sight, I’m met with an image I’ve never even let myself dream about. Someone here that’s on my side, no matter what. Someone I can trust. Someone who might truly love me back, despite my last name.
Oliver holds Goldie by the tree, their faces glowing in warm white lights as she regales him with stories about each ornament and how they came to our family.
Goldie catches me watching and waves, whilst Oliver beams at her.
“Uh-oh,” Connie snorts. “Mom and Dad have officially had enough eggnog that they’re busting out the records.”
Sure enough. Dad dances his way from where the record player rests, an old holiday album crackling to life as the familiar lyrics echo throughout the room.
Mom tipsily climbs up from the couch, taking Dad’s hand and swaying in time to the song.
Connie takes the mug from my hand, replacing it on the counter.
“I was looking forward to that, thank you very much.”
“I know, little sister, I know. But I think there’s something better waiting for you.” Connie steers me away from the kitchen and toward the others.
When we’re only a few paces away, Goldie beams. “Aunt Callie, guess what.”
“What’s up, sugar lump?”
She giggles into her hand, leaning onto Oliver.
I’m pretty sure my ovaries explode. His magnetic pull is undeniable, and my feet don’t stop until we’re practically connected at the hip.
“Uncle Oliver knows the legend of the Christmas pickle.”
“Really?” My brows shoot up, looking between them. “Did you find it?”
Goldie juts out a tiny lower lip. “No.”
“Don’t worry, honey,” Imogene says from the couch behind me, “we’ll find it in the morning.” Imogene laughs out a hiccup. “Ope, warning sign.” Another hiccup bubbles out.
Prescott grins at his little sister. “Marigold, go kiss Aunt Genny goodnight.”
“Do I have to go to bed?” Goldie pouts.
“Yes, sweets. But Aunt Genny needs to, as well,” he says, pulling Imogene up for a tight hug. “Otherwise Santa won’t come see her.”
Marigold slaps both palms to her little cheeks. “Not Santa!”
“Tell everyone goodnight,” Prescott nods.
Still in Oliver’s strong arms, Goldie leans out and gives me a tight hug. “Night Aunt Callie, I love you.”
“I love you too, sweet girl.”
My niece releases her boa-like hold, looking back at my fake boyfriend. “Night Uncle Oliver, I love you. Now you say it back.”
“Marigold,” Prescott chides, mortified. “Oliver doesn’t have to say it if he doesn’t want to.”
To his credit, Oliver only laughs. “It’s all good, man,” he says to my brother. Then, he turns that beautiful smile toward Goldie. “Goodnight, Marigold. I love you, too,” he whispers.
“And you love Aunt Callie, too?” my niece asks boldly.
Off to my right, Prescott looks ready to wither away from embarrassment.
Oliver’s eyes never leave mine as he nods. “Yeah, I do.”
Eyes wide, my heart stops as my niece looks proudly from Oliver to myself.
Imogene moves toward the stairs. “Marigold, wanna help me sprinkle the reindeer food on your balcony?” The urgency in her voice would make me laugh if I wasn’t ready to vomit.
Goldie wiggles out of Oliver’s hold. “Aunt Genny, we have to put out the cookies before we go to bed, too. Come on!” Goldie grabs onto Imogene’s closest hand, attempting to lead her to the stairs.
“Night,” Imogene calls from halfway up the staircase.
Connie snickers as our older sister is led away by the force of a seven-year-old.
“I think I’d better go make sure Imogene doesn’t get hurt.
Especially if she wakes Chris.” My sister tucks me in for a quick hug before turning back to the others.
“Prescott, let’s go.” Giving a pointed look to our brother, she motions to the stairs.
Frowning, he looks between us. “When did you become so bossy?”
“Since your daughter led our tipsy sister upstairs,” she states as he walks past her. “Goodnight Calloway, Oliver.” She grins at each of us in turn before following him.
“And then there were two.” I can hear the grin in Oliver’s voice without even looking at him.
My brow furrows as I finally allow myself to take him in, ethereal in the Christmas tree glow. Did seeing him play with my sweet niece make him even more attractive than he already was?
Without a doubt.
Am I now extremely aware that Connie may just be right? That I should probably tell him how I feel, regardless of the timeline we gave ourselves?
Annoyingly so.
Besides, even if he doesn’t feel the same, we could always just be friends. I don’t think I can picture my life without him there in some capacity at this point, anyway.
So will I survive if he doesn’t feel the way I do?
Doubtful.
“Two?” But as I twist to take in the rest of the room, the sound of the master bedroom door shutting echoes throughout the living area. I huff. “Two.” The familiar record continues filling the cozy room when a hand appears between us.
“Dance with me?” Oliver gives me an encouraging smile.
Swallowing, I shake my head. “I, um, I don’t really dance much.”
Dark blond brows lift. “You sure did that night at Theo’s when Aaron’s band played.”
“That was different.”
“How?”
Shrugging, I fold my arms. “It was comfortable. I didn’t care if I looked like an idiot.”
“I promise not to let you look foolish, Cal,” he says, voice tender. Light blue eyes search mine. Nodding to his still-outstretched hand, he whispers, “Please?”
My arms disentangle themselves without my permission, reaching out for the warmth I know waits in his embrace.
Stepping forward, Oliver takes my hand in his while the other snakes around my waist, moving us to the winter rhythm. The intoxicating blend of cinnamon apples and sheer masculinity envelopes me.
Heart fluttering, I lay my head against Oliver’s strong chest as he pulls me closer, obliterating any remaining space between us. Outside, snowflakes dance to the ground, tempting me to fall right along with them.