Chapter Thirty-Five #2
From what I’ve gathered about him (without the help of a PI, like a fucking normal person), he comes from an affluent family. He has a successful, respected career. Calypso was just a blip of time in his life—or, she could have been—but he refuses to let her go.
Can’t say I blame him, but it doesn’t make sense.
As soon as she’s done with her speech, Calypso walks off the makeshift dance floor toward the glasses of champagne on the bar. Instead of staying for the rest of the speeches, she slips into her mom’s house.
Biting my lip, I look around and wait a minute. Two. Then I slowly lift off my chair, I follow Calypso inside and up the stairs. At least, I think she went this way. I couldn’t see much from my seat.
A ladder is pulled down, leading to the attic. Curiosity gets the best of me and I carefully climb up them. Each one creaks louder than the last, but when I find Calypso, she’s sitting on what I imagine is her teenage bed, staring out the window. Her head never turns.
After a moment of hesitation, I walk into her line of vision. When I block the window view, her eyes finally meet mine.
“Leave.”
That’s it. One word.
Leave.
Not even “move.”
“I’ll leave the room,” I say, but I lean against the dresser and cross my ankles. “But I’m not leaving you unless you tell me to.”
Anger cloaks her features but there’s so much hurt—so much fear—underneath. “I just told you to leave!”
“Let me rephrase that.” My tone is light, only making her more irate. “Unless you want me to. Do you want me to leave, Calypso?”
She doesn’t say anything but her eyes widen the slightest bit.
“Should I go pack my shit up and take Rosie somewhere else?” I goad her. “All because your fuck ass ex-husband said I should?”
It’s there, in her eyes—her care for me, her terror of being left—but all that I get is anger.
I’ll take it. It’s better than being ignored all goddamn night.
If Calypso wants a fight, I’ll give her that.
“Maybe you should,” she spits and stands to her full height.
I push off the dresser and do the same. Her arms are crossed, but mine are casually tucked into my pockets. The easiness in my posture is driving her insane.
“Say it,” I taunt. “Say you want me to leave, Calypso, and I will.”
She’s fighting every instinct she has to spit those words out—to hurt me before I have the chance to hurt her.
I won’t, I silently promise her.
“You should leave,” she states again. There’s less heat in her voice but a new layer of insistence. “I can’t give you what you want.”
My brows furrow. “How do you even know what I want when we’ve never once talked about what happens after the recital?"
“You were engaged, Liam. Recently.” She shoves my chest. “She couldn’t give you what you wanted. Why do you think I can?”
Is this about kids? A wedding?
Does she think I wanted all of that?
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say firmly.
I grab her hands when she tries to shove me again. Her attempts are weak. Even with her full force, I doubt she could move me very far.
“You don’t even want this,” she argues, changing tactics. “Want me.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” I growl in frustration. Now she’s going to piss me off.
She sneers at me. “I’m not an idiot, Liam. You only wanted to win over this town and save Stanley’s companies.” She pulls her hands away and dramatically starts clapping. “Well, good fucking job with that! Everyone’s starting to love you. Go on then.”
“I don’t care about anyone else, Calypso.” I huff out a frustrated breath and roughly rub my eyes. “You know that, even if you don’t want to admit it.”
“How am I supposed to know it when you don’t say it?” she throws back. “You’ll let me cook you dinner; you’ll sleep in my bed and use my shower; you’ll fuck me, but you’ve never actually said anything!”
I shake my head and let out a scoff. “That’s a lie, and you fucking know it. I’ve told you plenty of times how much I care about you, how I’ll be here as long as you want me. Do you need more?”
She’s silent; both of our chests are heaving.
“Do you want to hear how fucking crazy you make me, Calypso?” I say and step closer.
Our chests are almost flush, both of us panting.
“How you are all that I think about? That I haven’t felt the way I do with you, with anyone else?
Even before that blind date, I hadn’t stopped thinking about the gorgeous woman who decided to spend her time with a chump like me when you could have had any man in that lounge. When I saw you at Max’s that night…”
I close my eyes and shake my head, thinking back to the moment she walked up to the table. I recognized her immediately—it would’ve been impossible not to when I had spent more than a few nights wondering if I’d ever see her again. I didn’t even know if she was from San Diego at that point.
I swore I was dreaming at first. Then she plopped down into the seat across from me, looking just as surprised to see me, and I knew the universe was rewarding me. Maybe it was taking pity on me. I wouldn’t have even cared if I was being pranked because she was right there.
“It felt too good to be true. Then I saw you again, at the farmer’s market.
I thought maybe I did something right in a past life, or I helped an old woman cross the street and forgot about it.
” Her frown almost breaks but she bites her cheek, stopping herself.
The raging fire in her eyes is beginning to simmer, my words banking her anger.
“So when Pippa brought up the rumors, I used it.”
Her face slowly starts to harden again and she adds a few inches to the space between us.
“To get close to you,” I clarify. “I used those stupid rumors as an attempt to spend more time with you. I never thought it would work and yet, here we are…” I raise my arms to the side and shrug. “I’m trying to follow your lead here, Calypso.”
She almost breaks. “Don’t. Don’t follow my lead. Not if this matters.”
She needs me.
Calypso needs me to teach her how to be loved again.
“It fucking matters,” I growl and grab the back of her head, pulling her in for a deep kiss.
She falls into me, pushing me back against the dresser.
Calypso clings to me, using her body to tell me everything she can’t verbalize.
My other hand slides to her lower back, bringing us even closer.
She doesn’t have a lot of space to stretch in her tight dress but she goes for my zipper anyway.
I stop her and her gaze flies up to mine.
“I’m not fucking you,” I tell her. “Not right now.”
She looks hurt. “I didn’t realize you were such a stickler about public sex.”
She’s referring to the night on the yacht.
I snort. “I’m not, and I’d hardly call this ‘public.’ I don’t want you to regret ever being intimate with me, and I’m worried you will right now.”
She pulls back but not out of my arms. Just enough to look at me.
She’s contemplating if she would, and I can see when the realization hits her.
Not at her sister’s wedding. Not as some form of distraction from what happened earlier.
She nods. “I—er, I…”
“Don’t apologize,” I say. Her shoulders deflate in relief but there’s newfound curiosity. “I’d rather be the person you’re angry with than the one you’re ignoring.”
She bites her lip. “I wasn’t angry with you,” she says in a small voice. “Just—at everything.”
I nod and lift her chin with my thumb. “I can take it.”
Neither of us says anything else. We both know we need to go back downstairs. Not only would Calypso not want to miss anything, but it’s a small wedding. Our absence won’t go unnoticed for long.
We can talk about it more later.
At home.