Chapter 19 #2
Movement directly behind us lets me know that Chris is a lot closer than I’d like at this very moment. “By lying to us, Connie,” Chris interjects, “and through complete manipulation.” His hand clamps down on my shoulder, turning me toward his glare.
Connie snaps her heated gaze back to her twin. “You mean by not humoring your jokes at his girlfriend’s expense?”
“They’re not actually dating!” Chris shouts. “Or have you miraculously somehow missed that part in your crusade to rescue Calloway?”
“Actually, we are.” Oliver’s calm voice slices through the tension in the air.
Silence falls over the room at his assured tone while strong, confident steps echo with each stride as he reclaims a spot by my side.
I twist around to face him, those eyes that always seem to anchor me never leaving mine.
“Christopher, your continued lack of observation and concern for your family members outside of Connie are quite the disappointment. Especially considering Callie and I have done nothing but flaunt our relationship the entire time I’ve known you.
But I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised.
” Oliver shrugs. “It’s not totally uncommon inside of twin relationships, particularly when one is often found to be more co-dependent than the other. ”
“But-but that woman,” he sputters, “in the restaurant—”
“My colleague was operating on old information, which you would know if you had bothered to speak with us directly instead of running off with nothing but hearsay.” Oliver turns to my brother, crossing his arms.
I don’t think I will ever get over hearing this man refer to this as an ‘us’ situation. In spite of this insane predicament, my insides become increasingly in danger of liquifying.
“Now,” Oliver nods to where Chris’s hand is still pressing down on my shoulder with more force than necessary, “take your hand off my girlfriend. And take note, Christopher, this is the only time I will ask nicely.”
Chris peels his fingers off me one by one. It only takes Oliver dipping his chin to stare at my brother before Chris takes a couple of measured steps back.
Dropping my other hand from Connie, I shift closer to Oliver until his unmistakable warmth seeps through my sweater.
Imogene and Mom watch us from the couch like a film they hadn't planned on seeing and are about to demand their money back.
But it’s Dad’s look of resolve that bothers me most. “It’s Christmas,” he says matter-of-fact, “with my family, that I’ve worked to provide for for nearly forty years.” His eyes flit over our heads. “And that means that I get to determine how our holiday goes.”
Rustling comes from behind me and sets my every nerve on edge. “I think I got everything.” Prescott stops at the foot of the stairs, Oliver’s packed bag in hand.
That little weasel.
He nods to our father.
I don’t bother stopping my bitter laughter. “What?” Standing straight to my full height, I narrow unamused eyes at my dad. “Are you kicking Oliver out or something?”
“You know, Calloway, I am,” he replies calmly. “And if he refuses to leave, I’m happy to press charges. It’s his choice.”
Nothing. No sadness. No fear.
No anger.
No regret.
I feel absolutely nothing as my father looks at me like an attorney holding court. Like he’s reached checkmate. As if he holds all the cards.
Because in his mind, he does.
Oliver shifts behind me, placing a hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay, Callie. I’ll go.”
Dad’s smug grin deepens at Oliver’s concession.
Nodding, I turn to look at the man I love.
Resting my palms on his chest, the beat of his heart gives away every ounce of fury he’s holding back.
Even knowing what’s coming next, I can’t stop the swell of emotion the man brings out of me.
“I understand. And … I just want to thank you for everything you’ve done for me. ”
Oliver’s brow furrows. Blinking rapidly, he swallows. “Um, of course, Callie. I love you, and I’d do anything for you.”
Someone in the background, probably Chris, makes a disgusted noise.
A soft smile forms on my lips as I look into the loving eyes I’ve come to know as my home. It quickly turns into a full-blown grin as Oliver’s eyes narrow, attempting to determine the sudden shift in my demeanor.
Then Oliver Grant Rhodes, the amazing man that he is, understands. “You’re sure about this?” His voice is low, cautious.
“Sure about what?” my father demands.
Beside me, Connie smiles approvingly.
“Yep,” I nod. Sighing, I take his hand. “I guess that means you’re good with driving me home, then?”
“Of course, my love,” he beams, fingers intertwining with mine. “That was always the plan.”
“Calloway Leora Rutherford,” my father plants tense fists on his hips, “you’re not going anywhere.”
Spinning around to face him, a sense of calm I never thought I’d feel when faced with this very moment washes through me. “Actually, I am.”
My dad’s face takes on a fifth shade of red. “Have you lost your mind?”
“Nope,” I say, shaking my head around in a stilted motion, “it’s still rattling around in there.”
He scoffs. “All of your things are still upstairs.”
“Yeah, Calloway,” Prescott interjects, “I only packed Oliver’s things.”
Connie perks up, turning to me. “I’ll bring all your things over tomorrow,” she says, further wounding our father. She pulls me in for a tight embrace, which is made slightly awkward since neither Oliver nor I let go of the other.
“Thank you,” I whisper in her ear.
Connie leans away, giving me a short nod in acknowledgment.
Looking back at my father, I deliver the checkmate.
“I’m twenty-seven years old and can make my own choices.
And if I’m faced with a choice between spending today with people who don’t see me as an equal, or with someone who has been supportive of me since we met, I believe I’d choose the latter every time.
Merry Christmas, everyone.” I take a moment to look everyone in the eyes, only letting the tiniest bit of guilt leak in when I reach Imogene and Connie.
To my intense surprise, Imogene doesn’t look the least bit upset, instead opting to let slivers of pride break through her stoic exterior.
Connie just acts like she’s ready to shoo us out the door herself so that we can get back to enjoying our day.
Oliver and I share a look as we head back toward the garage door. One that says neither of us are backing out now.
That we’re a team and we’re in this together.
When we reach Prescott, he hands over Oliver’s bag, unable to look my boyfriend in the eye. “Calloway,” he says as we start to walk away.
My feet stop, tuning in to my annoying penchant for curiosity.
Oliver’s protective eyes never leave my face, watching for any sign Prescott’s upset me.
My brother palms the back of his neck. “I’m sorry,” he mutters. His guilty brown eyes meet mine before finding something interesting on the floor.
“Tell Goldie I’m sorry we had to go, okay?”
Swallowing, he nods without another word.
Oliver and I walk hand in hand to the car we parked haphazardly in our haste to get to my family before Chris could. If everything wasn’t so messed up, I’d probably find the poor parking job entertaining.
He makes quick work of tossing his bag in the back and opens my door for me, when a noise from the house catches our attention. Tucking me in close, his stance relaxes when Connie comes into view.
Stepping out of Oliver’s hold, I watch as my sister’s nose pinkens with every passing second. “What’s wrong?” The worry I’ve tried to bury colors the words more than I’d like.
Oliver presses a kiss to my temple. “I’ll warm up the car,” he murmurs into my hair before walking around to the driver’s side. Moments later the car roars to life.
Connie’s arms wrap around herself in an attempt to keep warm as she reaches the car. “I just, I’m so sorry,” she says, shaking her head.
“This is so not your fault.”
“I never thought … he’s such an idiot.”
“Dad? Or Chris?”
Wet laughter bubbles from her lips. Unshed tears glisten in her eyes and I pull her into a hug. “Well, both I guess,” she laughs, wiping her running nose.
I don’t bother stopping my dark chuckle.
“I’ll talk to them.”
“Connie, no.”
“Yes,” she insists. “They’ll want to discuss it, anyway. Let me make that conversation useful.”
Nodding, I look at my older sister.
“If it makes you feel any better, Imogene was already prepared to claw Prescott’s eyes out for helping Daddy,” she laughs.
I grin across the small space between us. “You know, it does.”
“Text me so I know you got home safe?”
“Yes, Mom,” I tease, rolling my eyes.
Connie runs back into the warmth for dear life as I climb into the car, all my bravado suddenly slipping.
Oliver reaches over, taking my hand. His thumb rubs circles on my skin, calming the nerves threatening to take over.
We drive in silence for nearly twenty minutes. Only the sound of the car’s heater keeps us company and the farther away we get from Aspen Point Lodge, the higher my anxiety creeps.
Oliver must sense the change as he peeks over at me from the driver’s seat. “Are you okay?” he whispers, squeezing my hand.
“Can I ask a favor?”
“Yeah baby?”
“I need you to pull over, or I might just throw up in your car.”