7. Callum #3
“Do you want to add it, or me?”
Her nose scrunches. “Add…”
I fight a grin at the idea of Peyton finally being the one who’s confused.
“My number to your phone. You or me?”
I might’ve missed the small smile ghosting across her lips if I wasn’t watching so closely. And that expression of happiness, no matter how slight, ignites something inside my chest and turns my heartbeat up a notch.
She blinks. “Oh. Me, I guess.”
I rattle off my number while Romy lights a candle in the background.
My pocket buzzes just as Peyton’s sage green eyes meet mine.
“I’ll see you then, Callum.”
I nod. “See you then.”
On my way to the front, I casually glance at my screen. Sheer amusement pushes my cheeks up at the sight of Peyton’s text, which only contains a screenshot of my contact information saved in her phone:
OFFICER Callum Galvin
Toledo-Lucas County Health Department.
* * *
“Hey, Ma! Do you know where Dad’s old set of golf clubs is?”
The only thing Dad keeps track of is his beloved stamp collection, so it’s pointless to ask him. Plus, the last time he golfed was probably for a work meeting twenty years ago.
I rummage through the Forbidden Closet No One Dares to Open in the hallway, getting pummeled with the odds and ends that fall out of it.
A dusty old candle—probably the first one Yankee made himself—almost bonks me in the head.
I should’ve bought new clubs. Cursing my poor planning, I hope I don’t embarrass Peyton at the club today.
A throat clears, and I turn around, bristling when I see several sets of eyes staring at me. Dad, Cait, Clover, and Clementine stand next to Ma and blink in tandem.
Clover squints. “Why do you need golf clubs?”
“Yeah. Are you going somewhere?” Clementine chimes in.
Cait steps closer. “Girls. Give him some space. But, yeah—why do you need golf clubs and where are you going?”
I sigh. “Jesus Christ. It’s not like I’m asking for a weapon of mass destruction.”
Ma’s ears perk up with that comment. “Weapon? Are you using the golf club as a weapon? Is this your cry for help?”
Clementine and Clover both cross their arms at the same time like twins from a horror movie.
Clover snickers. “Yeah, Callum. Why are you bashing people with golf clubs like some sort of local vigilante?”
“I’m not bashing anyone! For the love of God. I’m just going to a golf club. That’s all. Now, if someone will tell me where—”
Cait raises an eyebrow. “You don’t golf.”
I lift my chin. “I’m athletic.”
“But you haven’t golfed in years.”
I glare at Cait. “Where are your kids? Don’t you have smaller people to boss around?”
“Don’t worry about them. They’re fine. Probably.” She pauses. “It is kind of quiet. I’ll check on them in a minute… Actually, hold on.”
I smirk as Cait power walks down the hallway. With Lila and Logan, the absence of noise is never a good thing.
Scanning the curious faces of the remaining Galvins, I give up on trying to keep the outing close to my chest. It’s a lost cause, and I don’t have time to keep fighting them. “I’m meeting a friend at the golf club in Eaglewood. It’s for her job. Not a big deal.”
A flurry of words fly through the air at the same time.
“It’s happening—”
“Someone text the others. Carter and Christopher will want to know.”
“Her? Oh my God—”
“Clementine, get the man some chapstick.”
I drag a hand down my face. “Calm down! Everyone needs to calm down. Did you listen to what I said? I’m helping a friend with something for work.”
“It’s probably Peyton,” Clementine says casually.
I stare up at the ceiling and hold my breath for a moment, trying to temper my growing frustration with the nosiest family alive.
“Who’s Peyton?” Ma asks.
Dad claps me on the back. “A date. Proud of you, son.”
You’d think a date was the Nobel Prize with the way they’re acting. Actually, they’d probably be less excited if I won an actual Nobel Prize.
“Once again. Not a date. We’re friends.”
Clover sighs. “Fuck. He’s been friendzoned.”
Ma swats at her arm gently. “Clover Elizabeth! Watch your language!”
“That was fast. They seemed into each other at the smoothie place. This isn’t ideal, but there must be something that can help his cause. Maybe a haircut,” Clementine mutters, pacing back and forth.
“I don’t need—” I cut myself off.
Because the truth is, I want to impress Peyton. And while I’m interested in being friends with her, I can’t deny my inherent attraction to her either.
I’ve never wanted more with someone. I didn’t even think it was possible at this point in my life, but with her… more is now a Peyton-shaped thought in my mind.
I look down at my outfit. A quilted gray jacket over a long sleeve polo and navy golf pants. Is it good enough? My watch tells me I have exactly one hour left until I have to leave for the club.
Scanning the faces of my loved ones, I ask them, “Do you really think I need a haircut?”
“Yes,” the entire family responds.
I exhale a resigned sigh.
Clover slides her phone in the back pocket of her jeans. “Get the scissors, Clementine. They’re in the kitchen junk drawer.”
“Jesus,” I mutter.