Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
Callum
I lean over my kitchen table, lighting a brand-new candle that I placed in the center of it.
For the first time in my adult life, I bought a fucking candle today. I’m a guy who lives alone, which is why I’m paranoid that Birdie will walk in and think my place smells like shit when I probably couldn't tell the difference. On top of that, I have a dog who loves to play in the ocean. So yeah, I’m trying to avoid Birdie thinking that my place smells like a combination of dude and wet dog.
It’s hard to believe that tonight is finally here. It’s only been three days since I was at Birdie’s apartment, but it feels more like an eternity. All I can think about is being with her. It consumes my every waking minute.
After she texted me her availability Saturday morning, I was on the fence about asking her over to my place for dinner. Not because I have any hesitations about her coming here, but because I want her to feel comfortable. We haven't talked about what we are or where this is going, and I want to make sure I’m moving at her speed. The last thing I want to do is scare Birdie away when I just got her back.
But God, it took all my strength not to lean forward and taste her lips at her apartment. I wanted to so fucking bad. I had never wanted anything more. It didn’t help when she rolled her hips, stroking my very obvious erection with her half-dressed body.
Looking back, it was for the best that a work call interrupted us. Because we were skating the line of dangerous territory. If she wouldn't have stopped me, I would have had her naked in less than two seconds. I would have ripped those tiny shorts and bra from her sweaty body and taken her on the living room floor. That’s how close I was to losing control.
And as hot as that would have been, she deserves better than that. If I get the chance to sink inside Birdie for the first time in over ten years, I want it to feel like a sacred promise. I want her to know with every thrust of my hips that I will never leave her again. I want Birdie to know deep in her soul that she’s the love of my life. The only woman who’s ever had my heart.
The flame swaying back and forth in the candle pops, pulling me back to reality.
Overwhelmed is an understatement for how I felt roaming around the candle store. There were so many choices, sizes, and colors. I had no clue what the hell I was doing. One of the employees was kind enough to help me settle on a neutral scent that smells like fresh linen.
I’ve been pacing around like a caged animal all day, strung up with nerves and excitement. I’ve cleaned every surface of the house at least five times, and at this point, Birdie’s going to think that a Lysol bomb exploded when she walks in. But at least the place will smell and look clean .
I’m usually a simple guy when it comes to clothes, but I’ve already changed three times today. At first, I had on a pair of slacks and a button-up shirt, but I quickly decided against it when I realized I was dressed for a Brazilian steakhouse, not a relaxed dinner at home. After that, I put on shorts and a T-shirt, but then I changed because it felt too casual. Finally, I settled on a pair of dark jeans and a long-sleeved henley.
I ran some gel through my dark hair, still leaving it a bit messy because I remembered how much Birdie loved my wild curls.
Even though my stomach is in knots, I can’t wait for her to walk through my front door.
Tonight doesn't even feel real.
I don’t know how I’ve managed to stay away from her for so long. Now that she’s back in my life, I feel like I can’t think straight when she’s not around. I can’t focus on anything but her . Since I saw her last, I’ve called her a few times just to check in and get me through the day. Her voice is like a soothing sedative for my mind.
Before running into Birdie at Coastal Market, I thought I could tread through life, living a lonely and miserable existence. But now that she’s back, I’m certain that I would die without her. Wither away to nothing but skin and bones.
Birdie is my drug of choice. She’s that one hit that altered my brain chemistry for the rest of my life.
It was easier to live without her when I had all but convinced myself that she didn’t exist. I felt like I had to treat her as if she were a ghost just to survive another day.
But now that I’ve seen her— touched her —I feel like I can hardly breathe when she’s not around.
When I was a kid, Birdie was my comfort. I thought I would grow out of being so dependent on her as I got older and broke free from my father .
But now, I’m starting to realize that she’s my lifeline. My soulmate in every sense of the word.
When I first met her at eight years old, I wanted nothing more than to be next to Birdie Wren. To simply be an orb floating in her presence. To breathe the same air as her. I didn’t know what that meant at the time.
But it’s true when they say that some things never change.
Twenty minutes later, I’m standing on my back porch, preparing a couple of burgers to throw on the grill. Right as I’m drizzling seasoning over the raw patties, I hear the doorbell ring.
My entire body goes still.
Sweat coats my palms as my throat swells with a lump. I wipe my hands on a kitchen rag hanging over the grill and try to steady my breathing.
Woof! Wooooof! Ollie howls.
I hope Birdie's prepared for my loud-ass dog.
“It’s okay, buddy,” I soothe, rubbing the top of his head and walking through the sliding glass door leading to the living room. A strong aroma hits me as soon as I step inside.
Yup, my house definitely smells like a combination of Lysol and linen.
Oh well, I guess it could be worse. It could smell like dude and dog. I leave the back door cracked open to let in some fresh air.
My heart feels like it’s threatening to beat out of my chest as I run my fingers through my hair, taming the wind-blown strands. Ollie trots beside me as I head for the door, his tail wagging in anticipation to greet our visitor.
It’s surreal to think that Ollie will be meeting Birdie for the first time tonight. He’s such an integral part of my life, just like her.
To each other, they’re strangers. But to me, they’re my everything.
“You ready to meet my favorite girl, Ollie?” I look down to see him panting with excitement.
“Me and her, we go way back. So you’ve got some competition tonight,” I arch a playful brow.
He pushes out an impatient whimper, eager to see who’s on the other side.
I clear my throat, inhale a shaky breath, and wrap my fingers around the brass knob. When the door swings open, all the air evades my lungs at the sight of Birdie.
My knees threaten to hit the floor along with my jaw.
Fuck me.
Holy fucking hell.
I want to bypass the burgers and eat her for dessert.
She’s wearing a short cotton dress that barely touches the tops of her tan thighs. It’s candy apple red with tiny white flowers printed along every inch. The dress hugs her trim waist, fitting her like a second skin. The front drops in a low V, showing off the curves of her round breasts.
My eyes skim down to her toned legs and land on her sandal-clad feet to find her toes painted ruby red. Her sun-kissed skin shimmers as if she brushed on actual glitter. It takes me back to freshman year at the Winter Formal. She looked ethereal that night. Like a real-life ice princess.
That was the night I went from loving Birdie to falling in love with her.
When I spun her around beneath the dim parking lot, her dress reflecting diamonds against the pavement like a mirror ball, I knew I would love her forever. I knew that she was it for me .
I lift my gaze, mesmerized by how her silken hair tumbles around her shoulders in golden waves. A lot has changed over the years, but her hair is still the exact same. Before I was old enough to understand what attraction was, I remember thinking her hair was prettier than the sun. Her sandy locks have always driven me crazy.
I still can’t believe she’s standing in front of me right now, less than a foot away from being inside my house.
“Birdie Wren.” My voice cracks as my eyes map every inch of her. “You look…”
I would be a fucking idiot to not acknowledge how sexy she looks.
“Damn,” I exhale, unable to hide my reaction. “You look stunning, Birdie. That dress on you,” I shake my head. “Wow.”
Her cheeks glow with pink flames, and her glossy lips turn up in a timid smile.
“I–”
She starts to speak but is abruptly cut off by Ollie excitedly jumping on her. Her eyes widen with alarm before she lets out a cute string of giggles.
“Calm down, Ollie,” I chuckle as he whips his tail back and forth. “Sit, buddy.”
He doesn’t listen to a word I say. He’s too busy bouncing up and down on his front paws while staring up at Birdie like she’s his treat jar.
Instead of backing away, Birdie drops down to her knees and takes Ollie’s furry face between her palms. He lets out a sound between a groan and a whimper as she scratches his head and ears.
The second her knees hit the hardwood floor, I drift into the alternative universe I’ve been living in for the past two weeks. The land of Birdie Wren. It’s as if Ollie disappears, leaving only me and Birdie in the entryway .
I flex my jaw, willing my dick to calm down at the sight of Birdie on her knees in front of me. Her low-cut dress gives me a direct view of her plump tits—the perfect handful. The tops of her breasts spill out over the fabric, and God, all I can think about it is–
“Hi there,” she coos, pulling me from my dirty thoughts. “You’re a cutie.” She nuzzles Ollie’s nose with hers.
Ollie responds by licking a line up her cheek, causing her to scrunch up her nose and chuckle.
Ever since Ollie was a puppy, he’s always been a friendly dog, but it usually takes him some time to warm up to new people. It’s surprising to see him be so comfortable with Birdie, as if he’s known her forever.
People say that dogs can sense good and bad people. Maybe he can sense how special Birdie is to me.
“Alright, Ollie,” I laugh, gently tugging on his collar to give Birdie some air. “That’s enough,” I add when he refuses to stop licking her face.
Finally, he retreats back as Birdie stands up and smoothes her hands down her dress. I reach behind her and shut the door as she recovers from the tornado covered in fur.
When I turn back to face Birdie, Ollie’s old tennis ball rolls between our feet. I drop my gaze to find him sitting beside me, staring down at the faded neon ball he pushed our way.
“If you haven’t noticed,” I chuckle, “Ollie loves being the center of attention.”
“Ollie the collie,” she smiles down at him. “What a fitting name. I love it.”
“Right? The name was too good to pass up.”
She purses her lips together and nods before bending over to pick up the tennis ball.
“Here ya go, Ollie,” she grins before tossing his ball across the floor. He darts into the kitchen to chase after it .
“He’s such a cutie,” she chimes, but I barely register a word she says.
Now that we’re left alone, I can’t keep my eyes off her. I can’t control how my gaze roams every inch of her body. Everything about her is fucking perfect. I’ve never seen anyone as naturally beautiful as Birdie Wren.
“You’re staring,” she tosses out. A cute little smirk curves her pink lips.
“I can’t help it,” I rasp. “You’re fucking gorgeous, Birdie.”
Her silver eyes glisten as she bats her eyelashes.
“Thank you,” she breathes. “You don’t look so bad yourself. I’ll be honest—I was a little pissed after I saw you in the grocery store. I’d hoped you’d gotten ugly over the years, not hotter.”
I narrow my eyes as she flashes me a cheeky grin.
“So, you think I’m hot?”
She tilts her head and folds her arms across her chest, staring at me like I’m clueless.
“You’re a 6’2 lawyer with jet-black hair, blue eyes, and the body of a swimmer,” she says flatly. “Nah, that’s not hot at all,” she shrugs.
Well, fuck.
Ego officially inflated.
“For the record, I’m 6’3 now,” I boast. “But I think it’s cute that you know my height.”
“Oh God,” she rolls her eyes. “You think pretty highly of yourself, huh?”
“Hey, you’re the one who called me hot.”
“Yup, you’re right,” she sighs. “And now, I’ll regret saying it for the rest of the night.”
“We’ll see about that,” I grin sheepishly.
She’s still standing in the entryway, awkwardly clutching onto her purse .
“Here,” I offer, lifting a hand toward her bag. “I’ll hang that up for you.”
“Thanks.” She slides the purse down her arm and hands it over to me. I reach up and hook the straps on a coat rack that normally only gets used for Ollie’s leash.
“Come on in.” I place my hand on the small of her back and lead us into the kitchen.
Goosebumps rise on her arms as my fingertips graze her spine. Sparks ignite through my veins as I flex my fingers. Even through her cotton dress, her skin feels just as hot as mine. I forgot how a simple touch could ignite such a physical reaction.
“Your place is beautiful.” Her gaze scans around my open-concept home. “I didn’t realize it was literally on the beach until I drove up. It’s like a coastal cottage.”
“Coastal cottage,” I repeat, testing out the words on my tongue. “I call it my beach bungalow, but I think coastal cottage is a better fit.”
“Beach bungalow…” She stops to think. “Wait, that’s cute too.”
“Uh…I don’t really know if ‘cute’ is the vibe I’m going for, Birdie,” I chuckle.
“Well, I think it’s cute,” she says before leaning against the kitchen island. “But seriously, I love your place. It’s so cozy.”
I gulped down two fingers of Jack Daniels before Birdie arrived, hoping the alcohol would settle my nerves. But now, I think it’s just making me bold.
I guess we’ll find out if that’s a good or a bad thing right about…now.
“Well,” I start, “you’re more than welcome to come over and get cozy anytime you want. My door’s always open.”
Her brows shoot to her hairline, and her lips tilt up in a humorous grin.
“Is that right? ”
I shrug. “I guess you’ll have to try and find out.”
“Real smooth, Callum,” she mocks. “Real smooth.”
Just as I’m cooking up a witty response, I hear a loud growl that doesn't come from Ollie.
“You hungry?” I look down at her stomach.
“ To be honest, I’m starving, ” she admits. “Work was insane today. I barely had time to eat lunch.”
I wince at the thought of Birdie being on her feet all day, so busy that she doesn't have a chance to eat lunch.
“The burgers are ready to be thrown on the grill. I’ll get everything started.”
“Thank you for making dinner,” she says. “I really appreciate it.”
A beat of silence passes between us as I debate my next words.
Fuck it.
“Well, I gotta take care of my girl.”
Her pale-gray eyes snap up to mine as her cheeks turn beet red. It’s my last two words responsible for her reaction because that term holds a significance to us that no one else understands.
I used to always call Birdie my girl , even when we were just friends. My Girl is the song we danced to in the moonlit parking lot the night I realized I was in love with her.
Her throat bobs as her pupils dilate.
“Sounds good,” she replies, her tone thick and raspy.
I nod, our intense gaze never breaking.
“It’s hot as hell outside today, so feel free to hang out in here with Ollie if you want.” I offer. “Or you can sit out back with me while I cook. Whatever you want.”
“I’ll go with you,” she answers. “I’m dying to see your beach view. ”
I can’t help the ear-to-ear grin that stretches across my face at her response.
Before we head out, I pour us both a glass of red wine. I didn’t have to ask Birdie what kind she wanted because I already knew. One night in high school, we snuck a bottle of her mother’s Moscato. I’ll never forget how sick Birdie was the next day. As she emptied her guts into the toilet, she swore never to drink sweet wine again.
A few minutes later, we’re walking out to the patio with my hand resting on her lower back. Right as we step out into the salty air, I lower my head to her ear and whisper words that cause her nipples to harden through her dress. Nipples that I’ve dreamt of having between my teeth. My lips brush the shell of her ear as I speak.
“Since you basically confessed to thinking I’m hot,” I quip before my tone turns seductive, “I have to be one hundred percent honest with you… You look so goddamn sexy tonight, Birdie. You showing up in that little red dress when all I’ve been able to think about is you for the past three days is the sweetest kind of torture.”
Her chest rises and falls with heavy breaths as the heartbeat in her neck skyrockets. An ache fills my groin when she bites down on her lower lip.
Fuck. I’m dying to kiss those lips again.
Maybe if I’m lucky, I’ll get the chance tonight.
The sun started to set by the time the burgers were ready, so we decided to eat outside on the patio table and enjoy the view. Our conversation consisted of small talk, but we didn't discuss anything deeper than work or the current heat wave. And honestly, it was nice to talk about something as mundane as the weather. It felt normal.
It feels like all we’ve been doing is having these important conversations, which is definitely needed. But it’s also nice to just…be. To ask Birdie about work and not feel like there’s an elephant in the room.
After we finished eating, Birdie decided to hang around and keep me company while I brought everything inside and cleaned up. She offered to help, but I refused to let her. She’s my guest, and after a long day on her feet, I want her to relax and enjoy herself.
She’s currently sitting on the kitchen island, swaying her legs back and forth as she swipes to the next photo. After cleaning up, I took out my phone to show Birdie the eight hundred pictures I have of Ollie, as if he were my child.
What can I say? I’m a proud dog dad.
Birdie also pulled out her phone, showing me pictures of the renovations at her parents’ coffee shop and photos that Winnie had sent her from California.
For the past twenty minutes, we’ve been swapping photos and memories, trying our best to catch up on lost time.
“Wait, wait, wait. Let me see that.” I burst out into a fit of laughter as I reach for her phone.
While Birdie was swiping, she accidentally paused on a selfie after having her wisdom teeth removed. White gauze hangs out of each side of her mouth, causing her cheeks to swell like a chipmunk. She’s awkwardly smiling while giving the camera a thumbs-up. Her eyes are all red and hazy from whatever drugs the doctor gave her.
Not only is the photo hilarious, but it’s the cutest damn thing I’ve ever seen.
“Let me see it, Birdie.” I’m belly laughing now, still grabbing for her phone .
If she weren’t sitting on top of the island with her arm lifted as high as possible, I’d be able to reach the phone with no problem.
“No, it’s embarrassing!” she giggles, having way too much fun teasing me.
Her breasts are right in front of my face, stretching and bouncing as she struggles to keep her phone from me. My cock stirs as her body writhes, her hips and chest less than a foot away from where I stand between her parted legs.
“It’s not like I’m a cute kid in the photo,” she protests. “I was a late bloomer and had my wisdom teeth removed when I was twenty-two.”
“From what I saw, you look cute as fuck in that photo. The cutest damn chipmunk I’ve ever seen.”
When she lowers her arm half an inch, I finally wrap my fingers around her dainty wrist. I expect her to laugh or even blush at my comment, but the kitchen is deadly silent.
I swear I could hear a pin drop.
My smile fades as I lift my gaze to meet hers. Instead of looking at me, her eyes are glued to my wrist.
And then, it hits me.
My tattoo.
I haven’t told her about my tattoo.
The cuff of my shirt sleeve is bunched up around my forearm, giving her a direct view of the ink I’ve had since I was nineteen. My one and only tattoo. Four simple lines that will forever be a part of me.
Her eyes glass over as if she knows the meaning of the tattoo without asking.
“What is that?” she whispers shakily.
She curls her fingers around my wrist and pulls my arm down to get a better view. The tension between us grows like a dense fog .
“A tattoo.”
“Obviously.” Her silver eyes flick up to mine. “But what does it mean?”
I hold her stare as she waits for my response. I never thought I would have the chance to tell her about my tattoo, much less show her. When I got it, it was just for me. A way to permanently have Birdie Wren etched into my flesh.
Her breath catches when I step in closer between her legs, so close that my nose almost brushes hers. My words come out deep and throaty.
“I think you know exactly what it means.”
It’s so quiet that I can hear our hearts beating in tandem. Thumping loudly in our chests, reaching for one another.
“I want you to tell me,” she insists, breathless.
When she looks up at me, a strand of golden hair falls loose in front of her face. I nod slowly before reaching up, pushing it back in place behind her ear.
She shivers, closing her eyes as my fingers skim down her jaw until I’m cupping her face between my palms.
“I got it when I was nineteen,” I start. “Exactly one year after I left you. I thought I would never see you again, and even though I knew I could never forget you, I still wanted to have you with me somehow. I needed you in any way that I could have you. So, I got this tattoo. The four curved lines look like two birds flying next to each other, but together, they make a W.”
Her brows pinch together empathetically as she returns her gaze back to the tattoo.
“Cal…” she croaks, intimately rubbing her thumb back and forth across the lines. Each swipe feels more healing than the last.
“Birdie Wren,” I clarify. “That’s what it means. When we were apart, I would look down at my tattoo, and it would give me a sense of peace. The same comfort that you gave me when we were little kids. Losing you was the worst thing that ever happened to me, and getting this tattoo was a reminder that you were real and not just a figment of my imagination.”
Her eyes dart between mine as her chin quivers.
“I know that I hurt you, and there’s no excuse for that,” I breathe. “But I need you to know that there’s never been anyone else for me. You were everything to me, Birdie. And that has never changed. To this day, you’re still my everything. You’re my axis. My world never stopped spinning for you.”
Birdie surprises me by lifting a hand and gently brushing her fingers along my bottom lip.
“It really did break you, didn’t it?” she whispers. “Leaving me?”
“It fucking killed me, Birdie,” I shake my head. “I never recovered. I haven't been the same since.”
Birdie drops her hand from my face, her body going eerily still.
I pull back far enough to watch her every move. Blink for blink. Breath for breath.
I have no idea what she’s about to say, but I stay quiet because I can practically see the words on the tip of her tongue.
When she finally voices her thoughts, her question has every cell in my body coming alive.
“Do you remember what you asked me when we were seventeen?” she asks. “We were sitting on the beach, and you asked a question that changed everything between us.”
Without having to think, I know the exact moment she’s referring to.
“Of course I do.”
Birdie affectionately skims her trembling hands up my chest before cupping my shoulders. I never want her to stop touching me. I never want this feeling to go away .
“Ask me again.” Her tone is hoarse. Low and full of need.
I tighten my fingers in her hair and lean in until our breaths mingle, overcome with emotion by what she’s asking of me.
I never thought there would come a day when I would have Birdie in my arms again. I thought I would die with her memory inked into my skin and my heart buried in her chest.
I never thought I would see the love of my life again.
And that’s why I don’t hesitate before uttering the same words I did when we were seventeen.
“Can I kiss you, Birdie Wren?”