11. Peyton #2
“Hot chocolate sounds great. I feel like the weather calls for it today.” I take off my wool coat and drape it over the chair across from his.
He nods. “Be right back.”
While Callum gets hot chocolate, I appreciate the decor in the cafe.
A small porcelain vase with eucalyptus leaves sits on each table, and bright orange pumpkins decorate the large chalkboard menu on the wall behind the coffee bar.
There’s no line, but Peg, the owner, has been keeping Callum at the register, chatting his ear off, while her barista makes his order.
Five minutes later, he returns with two hot chocolates. “Peg asked if I wanted extra marshmallows, and I said yes. I hope that’s okay.”
I hold out my hands in a “gimme” motion. “It’s always a yes for me on extra marshmallows.”
He hands me the hot chocolate. “Noted.”
When I take it from him, our fingers brush, and he swiftly pulls his hand back.
“I’m so sorry.” Panic grabs his expression, and he drops in his chair, scooting it back. He searches my face, probably thinking that I’ll bolt or vomit. Or punch him again. But I didn’t feel sick when his skin grazed mine. I felt eager.
So, I make the executive decision to reach across the table and gently pick up his hand. As soon as I touch him, something in me calms, and when he sighs in relief, I think he feels it, too.
His gaze pins me in place. “Pey. Can I…? I want your fingers between mine. To hold your hand like that. If that’s okay. If you want that, too.”
My heart flutters over his respect for my boundaries.
But more than that, I’m so happy he’s not shying away from being the one to initiate.
My fear going into this—trusting a man again—was that they’d be passive once they knew about my aversion.
Like they’d lose the confidence to ask for what they wanted.
I want a man who listens and pursues. Not one that treats me like I’m easily breakable.
I nod. “I want you to hold my hand like that, and… Thanks for asking me.”
He flexes his fingers before settling them between mine. At his touch, I feel borderline giddy.
We sit for a few moments, drinking our hot chocolates with one hand so we don’t have to break contact. I bask in the cozy silence—just being here with him. No expectations, no pressure to perform.
His eyes wander to the autumn display near the window. “I was here for a party last month and was shocked at how different it is from when I was growing up.”
“You… were at a party?” I tease.
“Ha ha. Sometimes I venture out, when the situation calls for it.” His eyes lock onto mine. “Or when I feel passionate enough about something.”
I can only guess the shade of pink my cheeks are most certainly turning as I wonder how passionately he feels about being here with me.
“Did you come here a lot as a kid?”
He nods. “Yeah. But when I was growing up, they sold popsicles and ice cream bars out of a freezer in the back corner of the cafe. We’d walk here after school for a treat during the warmer months.”
“Do you still see any of your childhood friends, or did they move away from Waterton?” I ask, taking a sip of my hot chocolate.
He rubs the back of his neck. “No, I don’t really see anyone from childhood.”
I don’t miss him ignoring the second part of my question, and it reminds me that I need to ask Romy about her reaction to Callum when he first stopped by our office.
“What about you? Do you still see your childhood friends?” Callum asks, pulling me from my thoughts.
“I traveled a lot for pageants growing up, and competition between contestants didn’t really leave room for any friendships—let alone the kind that lasts.
” I shrug. “But I’m still really close with my best friend, who’s back in New York.
And, actually, she’s coming to visit me soon.
Her brother and his wife will be here, too. ”
He leans back in his chair. “All the way to Waterton? Wow, that’s commitment.”
I sit up straighter. “Would you want to meet them? When they visit?”
Callum nods his head slowly. “I’d really like to meet them, Pey.”
Genuine happiness pushes my lips up into a wide smile. “Perfect. I think their visit will coincide with the Harvest Festival. It’s perfect timing, really.”
He blanches. “The festival?”
“Yeah… Is that okay?”
“Sorry.” Callum pushes a tuft of his hair back. “Now that I’m thinking about it, I might have to work that day.”
Sadness crashes into me, and my face falls. “Really? Oh. That’s… I just really wanted you to meet them.”
He studies my expression. I’m sure disappointment is written all over my face.
“Wait.” Callum huffs a laugh, but it sounds stilted. “I was thinking of a different day. I should be free after all.”
“So, you can go to the festival with us?” I ask slowly.
He nods. “Yeah. It, uh, shouldn’t be an issue.”
“If you’re sure,” I say, a new rush of hopeful energy circulating through my body. “We’re going to work out the details tomorrow, and I’ll keep you posted. In the meantime, don’t book any last minute vacations.”
Callum hangs his head. “Damn. I’m going to have to cancel my month-long trip to Belize next week. I was really looking forward to cave rappelling.”
Laughter tumbles out of me at the thought of Callum descending into a dark cavern. “Do you even know what cave rappelling is?”
“Sure. You go into a cave, and you rappel.”
“And what does that mean? To rappel?”
I know what it means, because I had to pretend to be interested in a safety demonstration of cave rappelling gear over Zoom for a company in Kentucky once. Break the ice by being the first to ask questions—that sort of thing.
He sniffs. “I’m the one who brought it up, so there’s no need for me to prove myself here, Peyton. Maybe we should test your knowledge about rappelling.”
After explaining the intricacies of cave rappelling to Callum over our hot cocoas, we finally drop hands to clean up our table and put on our coats.
I miss his touch the second it’s gone.
He opens the cafe door for me, and as I walk over the threshold, a new thought starts to form in my mind: What if it wasn’t just my hand he held? What if it was me?