Chapter 73 Astrid
ASTRID
The next two months fly by as life settles into a regular routine.
Early morning swims are the norm before I get ready in the guest cottage to head to work at my office on Travis’s land.
The new GH Construction office has its own access, separate from Travis, Jessie, and Marlon’s beautiful ranch-style home.
It’s situated in front of their large supply warehouse, and they had built a small outbuilding without any real purpose in mind.
The day after I moved into Whispering Cottage, Travis and Callan presented me with a proposal, offering a reasonable price if I wanted to rent the outbuilding and use it for my new consultancy.
I jumped at the chance and threw myself into setting up my office, creating a design showroom, and registering my business.
The guys are now offering my services to their clients as an optional add-on, and they get a small cut of any new business I secure.
I am also slowly building my own client portfolio, with most recommendations coming from word of mouth or via my Insta page.
The rest of my time is spent sorting out the jumbled thoughts and emotions in my head.
My parents flew in to talk to me, and we spoke openly about everything.
I have a greater understanding of why they did what they did, even if I don’t agree it was the right call.
Callan told them about the rape, and my mom was inconsolable.
Before they returned to Sweden, Callan hosted a barbecue with family and friends, and some other hurts were healed.
Callan has respected my request for privacy and space to sort out my head, and he lets me steer all our interactions. He is still seeing his therapist, and I’ve begun seeing a lady in town, needing help to work through everything that happened.
Most weeknights, I eat alone, but on the weekends, I eat with Callan and Darcy at the main house.
Callan and I take turns cooking, or we do it together.
Sometimes, we eat dinner with our friends, either at one of their houses or at a restaurant.
The girls have readily accepted me into their friend group, and I enjoy spending time with them.
A few times, we’ve had Sunday lunch at his parents’ house.
It’s remarkable how easily everything has slotted back into place, and sometimes, I forget that any separation has existed at all.
Being back in Ryemont is as easy as breathing, and I haven’t felt this content in a long, long time.
I go walking with Darcy and Roni some evenings in the woods, and during weekends, I join Callan and Darcy on a bike ride or a hike, or we mess around in the lake. I even went fishing with Callan and Travis one time, but it was boring with a capital B.
I’m trying to bond with Callan’s daughter and not hold her mother against her, but it’s challenging.
Some days, I can’t get past it. Knowing she’s a part of Callan and a part of Gwen hurts.
Other days, I mostly forget, getting sucked into her playfulness, giggling and joking with her, until she tosses her hair a certain way that reminds me of Gwen, and I’m back to square one.
A rap at the door sprouts instant butterflies in my chest, and I’m smiling as I grab my bag and walk to greet Callan.
Dara is visiting, and Darcy is spending the weekend at the Hunts, hanging out with her grandparents, her uncle, and her cousin.
Rory is a live wire, and Darcy adores him, dragging him around the woods, showing him all her favorite insects.
When Callan asked if I wanted to spend Saturday afternoon together, I thought of declining—he didn’t call it a date, but I know that’s what it is— but I don’t want to.
He’s been incredibly kind and patient, and I want to start letting him in.
I yank the door open and smile. “Hi.”
“Hi.” His gaze skims respectfully over me.
“You look beautiful.” He produces a bunch of wildflowers from behind his back.
“For you.” I recognize them from the garden.
I’ve been helping Darcy and Callan take care of the gardens.
Having fresh fruit, vegetables, and herbs on my doorstep reminds me of growing up in my family home and the small patch I had cultivated.
Callan admitted I was the inspiration for starting his, but it’s way more ambitious than anything I’ve ever grown.
“Thank you. Come in while I put these in water.”
I dump my bag on the small table in the hall and stride into the kitchen to grab a vase.
“I love what you’ve done with the cottage.” Callan smiles appreciatively as he glances around the open-plan living space.
“You said you didn’t mind if I redecorated.”
“I don’t. It needed a bit of TLC, and it looks way better than anything I could have done.”
“Nonsense.” I arrange the flowers in the pretty rustic vase and carry it to the small circular dining table. “You are selling yourself short. The main house is stunning, and you did it all by yourself.”
His lips tug up at the corners. “I robbed your designs, Astrid.”
“You still pulled it all together, and I’m impressed.” On instinct, I lean in and kiss his cheek. “Accept the compliment, Callan.”
“Thank you,” he croaks, lifting his fingers to his cheek.
Heat crawls up my neck, and it’s embarrassing I’m blushing like a teenager again. “Come on. I’m ready for my surprise.” Callan wouldn’t tell me what he has planned. I grab my bag and a cardigan, in case I need it. We’re having record temps for mid-September, but a girl should always be prepared.
Callan laces his fingers in mine when we get outside. “Is this okay?”
My hand grips his tighter, relishing the warmth soaking into my flesh. “Yes.”
We share a look, and butterflies swoop into my chest.
We don’t talk as we walk the trail behind the house leading to the other side of the lake, but it’s not awkward.
The sun is shining, birds are singing a melody, and the minty freshness of the woods mingles with the floral scents emanating from the garden and the smell of minerals rising from the lake.
Callan’s hand is solid in mine, his gaze intense, his protectiveness familiar.
He raises our conjoined hands, dusting a kiss against my knuckles I feel ricocheting up my arm. No one has ever made my body tingle from the barest touch like he does. “I love that you’re here. This place feels like a real home now.”
I rest my head against his arm as we walk along the wooden dock toward the boat. “I love living here. It’s idyllic.”
He stops at the end of the dock, turning to face me. “Are you happy, Astrid?”
I cup his face. “I am.”
“Have you given any thought to what Dorian suggested?”
I nod. “I have, and I discussed it with Ginger. She thinks it’s a great idea, so let’s do it.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.” I run my fingers through the stubble on his chin and cheeks because I’ve been longing to do it for weeks.
“Couples counseling makes sense. Gwen ripped us apart in the cruelest way. We didn’t end because our love died.
We were forced to move on with our lives, deploying different strategies to deal with the aftermath and the realities we were both facing.
We have a lot of unresolved feelings that need to be addressed.
I don’t think either of us can fully heal without it. ”
“I agree.” He presses a lingering kiss to my brow, and I close my eyes, resting my hands on his chest, soaking up his warmth and the spicy scent of his cologne.
“Come on.” Taking my hand, he helps me onto the boat, settling me into a seat at the back around the small table.
“You asked me once how I’d romance you, do you remember? ”
I beam at him as he pops the top off a bottle of champagne he has chilling in a cooler bucket. “I do.”
“I don’t have a luxury yacht or a jacuzzi, and we don’t have eggs Benedict or steak”—he pours champagne into two flutes—“but we do have mimosas, strawberries, cake, and a picnic lunch, and I’m going to take us out on the lake.” He pours orange juice into the flutes and hands me one. “To us.”
I clink my glass against his. “To us. To living the dream even if it looks a little different now.”
His eyes swim with adoration as he leans down, bringing his mouth close to mine. My heart is jumping cartwheels, and butterflies are running amok in my chest. “The dream was always you.” He kisses the corner of my mouth, maintaining eye contact before he walks to the bow and starts the engine.
I tie my hair back and pop on my sunglasses, when we pick up speed and bounce over the gentle rolling water as Callan steers us toward the northern part of the lake.
I sip my mimosa and watch him. He looks good in denim shorts and a white tee behind the wheel.
Strands of dark hair blow across his brow when he looks over his shoulder to check on me, his smile bright when he catches me staring.
His eyes are hidden behind designer sunglasses, but I know they’re smiling.
Callan brings us to a stop along the most stunning part of the woods, throwing the anchor overboard to hold us in place. “I hope you’re hungry.” He places a picnic basket on top of the table.
“Is that a trick question?”
“I love that you still love food.”
“My hips don’t thank me for it.”
He stops removing packages and shoves his glasses onto the top of his head. “You’re fucking stunning, Astrid, even more so now. Please tell me that was a joke.”
“I was joking. I’m comfortable in my body.”
His gaze rakes leisurely over me, lingering on my larger chest, more shapely hips and waist, and the legs he was always obsessed with. Well, that and my ass, of which there is certainly more for him to grab hold of now.
“As you should be.” His voice sounds a little strained.
Callan plates out tons of sandwiches, salads, dips, and bread before handing me a fresh mimosa. He sits beside me, stretching his arm out along my back, and I lean against him, staring at him in awe as we chat in between eating. Music plays low in the background, and it’s the most perfect date.
“Room for cake?” he asks.
“Always,” I say as I clear away the plates and pack up the leftover salads.
“So, we have chocolate cake and strawberries, or if you’re feeling brave, you could try maple cake.” My eyes lower to the containers of cake. “I feel it’s only fair to warn you, it was my first attempt at baking it, so I can’t promise it’s up to the standards you’re used to.”
“You made me maple cake?”
“Yeah.”
Tears prick my eyes. This man. This fucking man. How the hell could I ever resist him? “I think that’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. It’s right up there with the gazebo and my eighteenth birthday.”
We stare longingly at one another, and my heart is soaring.
“So, maple cake?” His eyes drift to my mouth.
“Yes.” It only seems fitting that I try it again for the first time in years with him.
We settle back in our seats, and Callan feeds the first bite to me with his arm curled around my shoulders.
I moan the second it hits my tongue, and the moist, rustic sweetness reminds me why it was always my favorite.
“And the verdict is?” His deep tone has me squeezing my thighs together as lust spirals in my lower belly.
“You still make magic with your hands.”
“Astrid.” He puts the fork down and holds my face. “I can’t hold this in any longer. You can take all the time, all the space you need, but you have to know how much I love you. I never stopped loving you. It has been and will always be you.”
I don’t know who moves first, but our lips collide in a passionate kiss fueled by years of heartache and longing.
I grasp the nape of his neck when he pulls me in closer, deepening our kiss as he tugs the hair tie out of my hair and runs his fingers through the strands.
Angling my head, I open my mouth, and his tongue slips inside.
We dance a familiar dance, and our kissing is growing more frenzied by the second.
I crawl into his lap and straddle his hips, moaning into his mouth when he grabs my ass and squeezes.
My hips roll, grinding against the bulge in his shorts, and my nipples are trying to poke holes through my dress.
Sun beats down on my skin, pairing with the fire burning inside me until I’m overheating and wanting to rip my clothes off and feel no barrier between us.
“Baby.” Callan pants, holding my face in his palms and staring at me with dilated pupils. His lips are swollen from my kisses, and his hair is messed up from the wind and my fingers. “We should stop before we take it too far.”
“I don’t want to stop.” I roll my hips, gyrating on his erection, to drill my point home.
“I don’t want to rush you.”
“You’re not, and this feels a lot like déjà vu.”
His laugh does amazing things to my insides. “Can’t disagree.”
“Take me home and make love to me, Callan. I’ve waited years to feel you moving inside me again.”
“If we do this, there’s no turning back, Astrid. I can’t…” He clears his throat, resting his large palm on my chest, just over my heart. “I can’t have you and not have you be mine.”
“I’m yours, Callan. I’ve always been yours. I never stopped loving you either.”