Chapter 31 Callum
THIRTY-ONE
CALLUM
I found myself hovering a lot. Hovering around Deena until she snapped at me to leave her alone. Hovering around my chef while he prepared her food, making sure he washed everything properly and cooked everything thoroughly.
A week after her first scan, Deena sat down at the island and cut into the poached eggs Xavier had set in front of her.
When she sliced into a solid yolk, her face fell.
She looked up. “Do you mind making these again?” she asked.
“I’m so sorry to be a pain, but I like them poached medium. I thought I mentioned that.”
“You did,” Xavier said, his eyes darting to me.
“You can’t have runny yolks,” I interrupted. “It’s on the list of foods to avoid.”
Deena’s eyes filled with tears. “Cal,” she said. “Come on. I’m in my second trimester now. You buy the best eggs money can buy. I just want a breakfast that tastes good.”
“Do you want to get salmonella and kill our baby?” I snapped.
Deena jerked back like I’d slapped her.
I exhaled, lifting my hands. “I’m sorry. I—”
“Forget it,” she said, crossing the kitchen to open the fridge. “I’ll just have something else.” She grabbed a tub of hummus from the middle shelf and turned to the pantry, probably for crackers.
“You can’t have sesame, Deena,” I said, putting the container back. “Hummus has tahini, which is made from sesame. Salmonella risk.”
“For fuck’s sake,” she snapped. “What can I eat?”
“How about some fish?” I said. “You could use more omega-3s.”
Deena glared at me. “You want me to eat fish at seven o’clock in the morning?”
I glared right back. “I want you to feed yourself properly. You’re growing another human.”
Her jaw clenched. I knew she was annoyed at me, but I was just following the guidelines.
All I was trying to do was keep her and the baby healthy.
It was temporary; she’d just have to deal with it until our child was born.
That scrabbling, panicked feeling that kept clenching at my throat couldn’t handle the thought of her getting sick.
That meant no sesame. No runny eggs. Nothing that could even conceivably have any listeria in it.
I was just trying to keep her safe, and she was looking at me like I was her jailer.
“Deena,” my sister said from the entrance to the kitchen, “there you are.” She smiled at Deena, then shot me a long look. “I was thinking we could go out for breakfast together this morning.”
“I’ll come,” I said.
My sister lifted her hand to stop me and shook her head. “No, Cal. I’ll take Deena out. We’ll just go down the street. We’ll be fine.”
“I’ll come,” I insisted.
Deena rounded on me. “What, so you can make sure I don’t order runny eggs? So you can police every bite I take? Would you rather hold my fork and feed me yourself?”
“Well, it’s not like I can trust you to take your own nutrition seriously, can I?”
“I am a grown woman, Cal!”
“You’re carrying my child.”
“In my body!” Deena’s voice came out as a screech, her eyes narrow with fury.
“Okay,” Erica said, stepping between us. “Okay. Deena, how about you grab your things, and I’ll meet you at the elevator. Cal, can I have a word?”
Deena stomped out, her cheeks red, her fists clenched. I watched her go, my body leaning toward her. I hated it when she was out of my sight. What if she tripped on the stairs? What if she fell? What if she was upstairs, hurt, and no one found her until it was too late?
“Cal,” my sister said, calling my attention back to her. She wasn’t wearing her head scarf today; her hair had started to grow back. It was a fuzzy, half-inch halo all around her head. Her eyes were bright blue and very serious.
“What?” I snapped.
“You are about to lose her,” she said without preamble.
I reared back. “What are you talking about?”
“I’ve watched you ever since she moved in. You’re suffocating her.”
“I’m taking care of her.”
“Every day, she shuts down a little more. Being pregnant is hard enough without having some overbearing asshole breathing down your neck. You need to back off.”
I glared at my sister. She had no idea what the hell she was talking about.
Back off how? Back off when? I was managing Deena’s appointments and making sure she was getting all the nutrients she needed.
If I wasn’t here, she’d be eating whatever the hell she wanted, and who knew how that would affect the baby?
“When I was pregnant, I ate French fries and ice cream every day, and I barely even sniffed a vegetable. Lila turned out fine.”
“That’s irrelevant,” I said.
“If you keep pushing Deena, she won’t magically do what you say and turn into some simpering, agreeable fool. She will leave, Cal.”
“No, she won’t. We’re together. She’s carrying my child. She’s not leaving.”
Erica let out a long sigh. “As smart as you are, Cal, sometimes you’re really freaking dumb.”
I scoffed, spreading my arms. “How am I being dumb? I’m supposed to just encourage her to get salmonella?”
“You’re supposed to treat her like the adult she is, Cal.”
Frustration built inside me, the pressure of it crowding out my lungs and throat. If Deena didn’t take care of herself, then I could lose her and a baby I never expected but desperately wanted. And from what I’d seen, she had no interest in taking it easy.
What choice did I have?
“I’m taking your girlfriend out for breakfast,” Erica said. “We’ll be gone for a few hours. If you so much as send her a text message in that time, I will come back here and smash your phone to pieces.”
I gritted my teeth, fury swirling inside me. But even though my sister still wasn’t herself—she was too thin, and I knew she was tired—she stared at me with that unyielding, stubborn look on her face.
And in some small, still-rational corner of my mind, I knew she was right. I lifted my palms in surrender. “You shouldn’t be going out either, by the way.”
“Oh fuck off, Cal,” she snapped, and stomped out of the kitchen to go find Deena.
I stood there, on my own, seething. Then my phone rang, and I had no choice but to go to work.