53. 53
Iopened my mouth to reply, but nothing came out.
Blinking back at Gemma, I willed myself to string together an answer. Over the past two days, I had thought about what I would say when I was inevitably asked this question. I had even come up with a few generic lines about how Callum and I really did care for each other.
Now, though, my mind was tragically blank.
All I seemed able to do was focus on everything else around me. The blinding studio lights, the creak of the other Bellas’ chairs, the shuffle of the cameramen just feet away. I could have picked up on a pin dropping in the audience. All of that, and yet no answer to the question at hand.
The empty space next to me didn’t help. The absence of Callum felt like a taunt. Like the universe was saying to me, “You’re on your own, kid.”
Across from me, Gemma shifted in her seat and subtly pressed on the earpiece in her ear. She was likely getting notes from producers about how to deal with my sudden silence.
I needed to get a grip and handle this like I had planned to.
Taking a breath, I finally started to speak.
“I—”
It didn’t last long.
Commotion behind camera had whatever I was about to say dying on my tongue. Someone was yelling. Loudly.
“Stop!” they cried.
It wasn’t until a figure was stepping out of the studio’s shadows, until the world slowed and stopped and then started again, that I realized I knew that voice.
Callum was pushing past producers and running onto set.
Gemma stood up, trying to greet him while salvaging the live show. The audience was going wild, some cheering, some booing. Almost everyone had their cell phones out to record what was happening.
Having made it up onto set, Callum paused and looked around, as though he might suddenly be regretting storming up here so dramatically.
His hesitance only lasted a moment, though.
Soon enough he was back in motion, turning away from Gemma and looking directly into camera.
He paused again, letting out a slow breath.
And then he launched right into it.
“None of this is Poppy’s fault,” he said, and if I wasn’t already seated, my knees would have given out under me.
I held my breath as he pressed on. “It was my idea to fake our relationship. I was the one who came up with the plan. I was the one who convinced her to go along with it. I wanted to win Bella Amore. It was all me, not Poppy.”
A hushed silence fell across the set around me, no one daring to interrupt Callum or even breathe loudly. I hadn’t moved a muscle since hearing his voice.
Behind the camera, however, it was pure chaos.
Producers were visibly scrambling, pantomiming at cameramen to readjust shots and get Callum in frame.
A boom mic appeared out of nowhere, dropping down to catch his last few words.
Gemma had been frozen in place, trying to make sense of the cues that were being thrown at her from behind camera and the voices that were no doubt screaming into her earpiece.
“It started out fake, yes,” Callum said, still staring down the camera. “But then it changed and it turned into the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Poppy is the best thing and I—”
He stopped then, as though it suddenly dawned on him that he was saying all of this out loud and to a live studio audience. He turned his back on the camera and faced me.
“I’m sorry,” he mouthed.
I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe as I tried to wrap my head around what had just happened.
Moments passed and Gemma’s eyes bounced from me to Callum and then beyond to the producers gesticulating wildly behind camera.
“Well, folks,” she said, slowly walking toward Callum, as though not to spook him. “We’re clearly off to a wild start here at the Bella Amore reunion. We’re going to take a quick break but don’t go far, there’s plenty more where that came from.”
The entire studio froze at Gemma’s words, holding its collective breath while waiting on the camera’s red light to go dark and the commercial break to begin.
And then it did. A producer called out that we were off air, and it was pandemonium.
Both Ben and Harry immediately emerged from behind the cameras, beelining to us.
Ben was loudly scolding Callum while Harry was running toward me with a box of tissues.
I hadn’t even been crying but I appreciated the sentiment.
A sound tech marched up to Callum, trying to string a microphone wire up his shirt at the same time a hair and makeup team fluttered around him, face powder and hair gel at the ready.
Cecilia even suddenly showed face, emerging from the shadows to hover at the edge of the scene, arms crossed, a look of contemplation set on her face. Was she about to jump into the middle of the melee too?
Callum, however, paid no one any attention. Through it all his eyes had never left mine, and he was now walking right up to where I was still sitting.
“What are you—” I asked.
But before I could finish my sentence, he was grabbing my hand and pulling me up off the couch. My mind was reeling as we came face to face. I couldn’t believe he was here, that he had publicly taken the blame for everything.
And what was that he said—about me being the best thing?
It was all too much to process under the blazing stage lights.
Looking up at him, the weight of what happened between us, and all the things left unsaid, suddenly felt impossibly heavy.
He had hurt me; had left me alone when our plan went up in smoke.
And yet standing here, staring at him for the first time in two weeks, I couldn’t deny the relief I felt at seeing him again and the warmth blossoming in my chest.
For a moment it felt like we were all alone, like it was just us up on stage.
That moment lasted all of one second, as everyone Callum ignored had simply followed after him and were now surrounding us.
Callum’s expression was serious, but his eyes had that twinkle I had come to adore. He squeezed my hand, turned around, and cut right through the mass of people.
I held on to him as he tugged me across the stage, past the cameras and executives sitting just behind them, and through the studio’s door.
He pushed it open and forged ahead, down a hallway and into the first empty green room we came across.
Ben and Harry had trailed after us and were closing in, but he simply closed the door in their faces, turning the lock and shutting them out.
And then we were alone. For the first time since that final goodbye. The first time since everything had blown up on us.
“That was quite the entrance,” I said, stepping a few paces away from the door he was leaning against. I needed there to be distance between us or I wouldn’t be able to think straight.
He smiled. It was the same smile I had come to know so well.
It was all him, no hint of iciness or disdain.
Something deep in my gut stirred to life at the sight of it, but remembering what exactly had happened to get us to this place—locked away in a green room—I tamped it down.
I looked away, trying to regain my sense of reality.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
I let out a small huff of air, taken aback by him diving right into it.
He pressed on. “I was a prick, and I behaved horribly. It . . . ” He trailed off, his voice breaking for a moment, before he exhaled through his nose and kept going.
“It hurt me seeing you with your ex, and I shut down. It felt like history repeating itself, like I was being cheated on again, and I sort of lost my mind, if I’m being honest.”
He took a step in my direction, as though testing the waters.
I didn’t move away.
“I had all these feelings that I thought you felt too but when I saw you and him together, I just couldn’t handle it.
It’s why I was such a dick throughout the whole press tour.
I didn’t want to talk to you because I couldn’t bear to hear that you didn’t feel the same.
Even when you told me it didn’t mean anything, I was buried so deep in my own head I couldn’t believe you could really mean it. ”
My heart was racing as he took another step toward me.
“It was all me, all my own abandonment issues kicking up. I couldn’t separate what had happened to me in the past from what was happening in the present. So, I did what I know best, and I pushed you away. I thought it would be easier that way, to just cut it off.”
Another step and he was even closer.
“I should have been honest with you and told you I was hurt. That it scared me how much I was affected by seeing him kiss you.”
One more step and he was standing right in front of me, so close that I could smell his familiar scent.
“I’m sorry,” he said, the words almost a whisper. “I’m so sorry. You deserve more than the way I acted. I want—”
His voice caught in his throat, as though his body was overwhelmed by just how vulnerable he was being. He let out a breath and then pressed on anyway. “I meant what I said out there. You are the best thing to ever happen to me, and I want to be better. For you.”
We stood there, separated by only a few inches, and I looked up into his eyes and saw it, clear as day. His regret and sincerity and fear and just how much he really did care for me. It was all there, on display.
I wanted to give in to the urge to wrap my arms around him, to tell him I understood, but there was something else we needed to address. One more hurt I had to bring up.
“You didn’t call,” I said. “After the news broke about us and our deal. I was all alone, hiding away from everyone, and you didn’t call.”
Regret and then, improbably, the hint of a smile crossed his face. I was about to tell him he could shove that smile up his ass, but he cut me off by speaking first. “I didn’t know.”
“What?”
“I didn’t know that our argument leaked until this morning.”
“How is that even possible?”
My heart was racing even faster.
“After that last appearance, when the car dropped you off and you nearly leveled me with your final goodbye, I needed to get out. It was like my body knew what I was doing was wrong, that I was making a massive mistake. I couldn’t sit still, couldn’t sleep a wink.
So the next morning I drove out to the country, to these woods I used to camp in as a kid, turned my phone off and hid from the world. ”
He was telling the truth. I could see it written all over his face. Could feel the sincerity in his words as he told me everything.
“I thought it would help, that I would somehow be able to get over you by simply ignoring everything, but I felt like proper shit the whole time. I realized I had fucked up days ago but was too scared to reach out. Then I woke up this morning and knew I had to try. That I had to call and at least hope that you’d hear me out. ”
I might have been crying. I couldn’t tell; I was so fixated on what he was saying.
“Let me tell you, it was quite the shock when I turned on my phone and saw what had been happening.”
“It’s a lot,” I said.
“It is.” He nodded in reply.
We stood there then, with it all out on the table. I could hear Ben and Harry knocking on the door, telling us we needed to open up and get back to set. But the show felt small now, any obligations we had to it not nearly as important as what was happening between us.
Callum didn’t blink twice at the disturbance. Instead, he reached out for my hands, grabbing them in his and lacing his fingers through mine.
“I like you, Poppy. I really like you. And I know I messed this up pretty bad, but if you’ll let me, I’d like to spend a very long time making it up to you.”
Here it was: my decision to make.
I was still mad at him, yes, and it would take time to rebuild the trust that had been chipped away by recent events.
But looking at Callum, feeling the warmth of his hands seep into mine, I realized that working on a relationship with him was better than walking away to make a point.
I wanted to spend time with him, off camera and in private, and see what we could be and where our relationship could go.
I wanted to try, wanted to give myself a real chance at happiness.
I felt the sureness of it deep in my gut, in a way I never had before.
I let go of Callum’s hands and slid my own up his shoulders and around his neck, pulling him into me.
“I really like you too,” I whispered against his lips.
He smiled for a moment, registering what I was saying and all that it meant.
And then we were kissing, and I was crying and laughing, and my heart felt so full I thought I was going to float away with it.
I could hear the producers on the other side of the door, their knocking having turned to banging.
We ignored them and made out some more, grasping onto each other.
There would no doubt be a journey ahead of us. There was press to deal with, our reputations to repair, and lives to rebuild in the aftermath of Bella Amore. Plus, the whole living in two different countries thing.
But for the moment, we had each other. That was all that mattered.
The banging on the door grew even louder as we finally broke away from each other. This time, Harry shouted from behind it. “I love you both, but if you don’t get your arses out here the network will fine you and it won’t be pretty.”
I laughed at the absurdity of the moment and leaned up to give Callum another quick kiss.
“Shall we go set the record straight, then?” I asked, grinning at him.
He nodded down at me, clasped my hand in his, and led the way out of the green room, past a thrilled but red-faced Harry, through the layers of production, and back onto set.
It was the exact same pandemonium we had left behind minutes before, but this time it felt exciting and new.
A producer was shouting out a countdown, hair and makeup were scurrying off set, and in the middle of it all I sat with Callum, hand in hand and ready to take on whatever was thrown at us.
Together.
“So,” Gemma said, turning to us with a sparkle in her eye as soon as we were live on air. “Tell me everything.”