Chapter 19
NINETEEN
Callum
I repeatedly click the end of my pen, waiting for the judge to call a lunch break. The session started about an hour and a half ago, and everyone is starting to get a little fidgety.
I’ll be able to sleep peacefully tonight because I know, without a doubt, that the judge is going to rule in favor of my client. The child’s parents have multiple drug charges without showing any interest in getting clean. It’s never easy to watch a child get ripped away from their parents, but it’s my responsibility to make sure they’re in a safe home and out of harm's way.
When my client was first taken away from his parents, he was found living in a home that reeked of filth. You could barely walk through the nauseating rooms due to piles of trash and dog feces. At only five years old, he was sleeping in a roach-infested bedroom with used needles scattered around the floor. It was a miracle that he hadn’t stepped on one.
No child—no human being—should ever have to live in that type of environment. It wasn’t just dirty, but a severe health hazard. Since this isn’t his parents’ first offense, I don’t see any chance of the judge letting them keep their parental rights.
From what I’ve gathered, the child’s aunt and uncle are good people and more than willing to take him in, which gives me a massive sense of relief. Foster care can be a blessing for some children, but it can also be a nightmare for others. In my experience, it’s always best when a family member steps up to care for them.
My phone vibrates against the cherry wood desk, distracting me from my thoughts. The judge dismisses the court for lunch right before I reach for my phone. My heart lodges into my throat when I unlock the screen and read the text message that just came through.
The message I’ve so desperately been waiting for.
I swipe my reading glasses from the desk and push them on.
I read the notification twice, blinking a few times to assure myself that it’s really her.
“Thank God,” I mumble under my breath as I run my fingers through my hair.
I let out a massive sigh of relief because she finally texted me. It feels like the first full breath I’ve taken in days.
Finally.
Fucking finally.
Hey, it’s Birdie. I was wondering if you’d like to get coffee with me this week? I have to be at work at 10:00 a.m., but I can go anytime before that.
I re-read her text, in complete and utter shock that she actually reached out. I can’t contain the stupid smile stretching across my face. I’ll be thirty in less than a year, but I feel like a love-struck teenager right now, losing my shit over a text message.
It’s been two weeks since I last saw Birdie, and I was starting to worry that she wouldn’t reach out at all. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since the day she met me at Captain Ray’s. I just toss and turn, kicking myself for not asking for her number instead.
A few nights ago, I couldn't take it anymore. I thought I had missed my chance with Birdie and started to panic.
I crawled out of bed at 3:00 a.m. and paced back and forth before texting her old phone number, hoping it would still be the same. As soon as I hit send, I got an automatic reply saying the number was out of service. It was probably for the best since I promised her I would stop acting like a damn stalker.
Other than my job, all I’ve thought about over the past fourteen days is Birdie Wren.
I can’t get the visual of that little yellow dress she was wearing out of my head. I lost count of how many nights I’ve fucked my fist to images of her in that dress. I fantasize about pushing the thin cotton up her smooth thighs before ripping her panties off and sinking inside of her.
It’s been so fucking long since I’ve actually enjoyed sex. I’ve basically been walking around with blue balls for eleven years.
Birdie always looks beautiful, but God, she took my breath away. Her in that dress puts every Alabama sunset to shame.
I can’t stop replaying our conversation. She doesn’t owe me a damn thing, but she still showed me an immense amount of kindness. Her caring and protective side came out, even though I tore her heart to pieces.
When she said she wanted to kill my father with her bare hands, I believed every word. I could see the anger in her eyes.
And I can’t lie… Seeing her get so defensive of me turned me the hell on. She’s gotten feistier over the years, and I loved seeing that side of her.
I look down at my phone and start typing out a message, knowing that if I don’t do it now, I won’t be able to reply until this evening. My pulse echoes through my ears as my thumbs fly across the screen.
Hey Birdie, it’s great to hear from you. I’d love to get coffee this week. You just let me know what works best for you.
My adrenaline spikes as the text bubble appears, letting me know she’s immediately texting back. I chew on the inside of my cheek, feeling giddy at the thought of her waiting by the phone.
How about tomorrow?
My smile grows even wider. I thought she was going to be the one to ghost me this time, but maybe she’s just as eager as me.
Tomorrow sounds great. Do you have a place in mind?
I was thinking we could go to Sandy Spoon Café. I’ve been wanting to try it.
Sandy’s is great. You’ll love it. Just tell me what time, and I’ll be there.
How about 9:00 a.m.? FYI, I'll be in my scrubs since I’ll be heading straight to work after.
She adds a laughing face emoji at the end of her text .
If she only knew the way I truly felt about her work uniform… One day, if I get the chance, I plan to tell her exactly what I think before ripping said scrubs off her body.
You look perfect in everything, Birdie Wren. You don’t ever have to justify what you’re wearing to me.
I would bet a million dollars that she’s blushing and biting down on her bottom lip as she reads my text. She always does when I call her by her first and middle name.
Says the guy who wears a full suit to work… lol. Thank you, though. I don’t feel as bad about my grimy scrubs now.
I’ll dress casual tomorrow just for you. Jeans and a T-shirt it is.
Without thinking, I add a winky face emoji, then feel stupid after I hit send.
I never fucking use emojis. But here I am, sending them without a second thought.
How chivalrous of you. What a true gentleman.
A laugh bubbles up my throat as I chuckle at her sarcasm. My cheeks strain from the smile spanning across my face as I think of something clever to text back. But right before my thumbs hit the screen, I get another text from her.
About to head in to see a new patient. My lunch break is up, so the rest of my day will be chaotic. I’ll see you in the morning. Just text me if your plans change .
Over my dead fucking body.
My plans won’t change, Birdie. I’ll be there, bright and early.
I doubt I’ll even get a second of sleep tonight.
The judge probably thinks I’m a cocky motherfucker because I can’t control the ear-to-ear grin stretching across. It stays there for the remainder of the day.
In less than twenty-four hours, I’m going to see her again.
Never in a million years would I have thought that Birdie would be in my life again. But now that she’s here, I’m going to do everything in my power to keep her.