26. Callie Rae
Callie Rae
I just have to make it through dinner.
One more dinner, Callie.
I’m swiping my palms down my bodycon midi dress. I stare at the full-length mirror, my hands lifting to fasten my low bun at the back of my neck. I make sure to leave a couple wavy strands around my face, only to adjust my spaghetti straps.
My lips fold to smooth my berry lipstick out when Jesse’s voice pops in.
“Almost ready?”
My stomach sours when he enters the bedroom. I meet his eyes through the reflection, his presence practically chewing on my skin.
He hasn’t touched me since Thursday afternoon. I’d say that’s a win, but maybe it’s just because I already know the game.
The less you talk back, the less repercussions there will be.
For now.
“Yes,” I answer, my face unmoving.
My deadened stare lingers on him when he halts at my back. He leans to latch his lips to my shoulder, and all of my organs buckle at the contact.
His warm mouth is entirely lost on me. I can feel nothing but frost sprinkle my skin.
“Here,” he whispers. He parks at my side, dangling a navy gift bag between his fingers. “I couldn’t not give you this. Not just because of how sorry I am, but because it’s your birthday. You only deserve the best.”
My gaze bolts to the white tissue peeking from the jewelry bag. I refuse to meet his eyes. He’s apologized since he hit me, but the indigo blemish on my cheekbone haunts me wherever I go.
The bruise has faded to a yellow tint now. I had to avoid Brant this weekend when it was ripe. He reached out to me, hoping to meet up, and I was curt enough to shoo his persistence away.
Just long enough.
There’s not a single doubt in me that he would’ve caught the sight. No matter how much makeup I applied, he would’ve read me like a book. Then he would’ve beat the shit out of Jesse right after.
Until he was dead.
When he was done, he would’ve lost his job at Nexis. His life. Everything he’s worked too damn hard for. All because of Jesse.
All because of me.
No. Not again.
Never again.
I could never forgive myself if I was the reason for all that. I’ve hardly granted myself grace from the first time, and I refuse to make the same mistake twice.
Dove will always deserve better. I’ll be here to make sure he’s taken care of.
A vapid smile lands on my lips when I take the gift from Jesse. I shuffle my fingers through the crunchy paper, extracting the large, velvet box.
For every occasion, Jesse has bought me jewelry. Not the simple kind either. It’s always jewelry that stands out and turns heads. All very beautiful, but the element of surprise is missing.
I can’t help but think the element of thought is too.
I’ve never received a piece of jewelry from him that was engraved or personalized for our relationship. Instead, they’re always glimmering with an abundance of diamonds.
Jesse’s fingers brush mine as he plucks the velvet container from me. Then he’s prying the lid open with a smirk.
My brows perk when the continuous row of diamonds circles around the insert. “Wow,” I mutter, tracing my gaze over the tennis necklace. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything. I’m the one who should be doing all the talking,” he answers, unraveling the sparkling chain. “I always knew I wanted to get you a tennis necklace to match the tennis bracelet I gave you for Valentine’s Day this year.”
“It’s so shiny,” I whisper.
He lightly chuckles, taking the bag from me. He sets it down on the dresser beside us, resting the velvet box there as well. “Here, I’ll put it on. I want you to wear this tonight.”
My mouth opens to stop him, but he’s already stationed behind me.
I offer a timid grin, our eyes glued through the mirror as he curls the jewelry around my throat. “It’s never going to happen again,” he declares lowly.
His dark eyes are soft as he wags his head.
I remain quiet when my stare skims the sparkly string of diamonds. The pads of my fingers absently trace the chain, and my mind sinks into a trance.
I’m facing my reflection. I expect to be impressed with how well the accessory complements my outfit. But I don’t see anything admirable at all. As it turns out, my appearance hasn’t changed one bit.
Not from yesterday. Last week. Last month. Last year.
Not from ten years ago.
I still look just as lost as I did back then. The only difference is my wounds are dressed up. They look a little more sophisticated so they don’t raise too many red flags.
It’s an illusion.
Like I’m staring into a funhouse mirror, but it’s reversed. My eyes see what they want to see, but my mind knows it’s not the truth.
* * *
I scoop a forkful of steak into my mouth. Roger and Lindsey’s eyes light up from across the linen, and it’s like Jesse just told them he cured cancer.
All he did was mention the fact that he bought himself a second Rolex.
My eyes scan the rich, wood interior of the steakhouse. I swallow the last of the savory marinade, wafts of butter and herbs lingering around the table.
They blend with the soft lighting as Jesse maneuvers his fork toward him to showcase his wrist. “It’s the Rolex Submariner. I figured I’d treat myself knowing I’m about to lock in a great investment deal.”
“Almost catching up to me with my watch collection,” Roger jokes, sipping his tall glass of red wine.
I pop my gaze over Roger’s head, escaping the pretentiousness of this conversation.
My fork mindlessly twirls between my fingers as I skate my eyes around the room.
Everyone is dressed to the nines. Either in cocktail dresses or suit pants.
They’re sitting straight in their leather chairs, taking delicate sips of their drinks before carefully biting into their food.
As similar as everyone looks in their clothes, they look just as identical in their emotions.
Robotic.
My eyes trail the panoramic angle of the restaurant. It dawns on me that I can’t point out a single person who is laughing. There are smiles here and there, maybe even a few mild chuckles, but there’s no strength behind them.
I know what a true smile looks like.
I know this because there was a period of time when I didn’t have many reasons to smile. I had to wear a disguise in front of my peers and teachers at school, but I remember what genuine happiness looks like. What it feels like.
That kind of joy never circulated my heart often. When it did, I could remember the exact expression I was wearing. I could remember the precise moment my lungs bloated to life.
My eyes drop to my glass of water parked behind my plate. Jesse’s voice merges with Roger and Lindsey’s, their sounds muddling in the back of my brain.
I sit with a vacant heart, locking my gaze with the ice cubes inside the fancy glass. I try to recall the last time I laughed with Jesse.
I can’t remember.
I can’t remember the last time I laughed with the person I agreed to spend a lifetime with. Then I realize that I’ve never cried with him either. Or to him, for that matter.
But it’s not just him.
When I rewind back to the few guys I’ve been involved with in the past ten years, I can’t recount shedding tears in front of any of them.
I cried all my tears over there.
And that’s exactly how I wanted it.
I wanted to wipe my cheeks dry. Leave all my sadness in my rear view. I desired to be free of all that pain, but somewhere in the midst of it, I was released from passion. I ran so fast that my shoes dusted everything in its wake.
Including that little girl.
I abandoned her.
She was innocent in all of it. She never asked for all the heinous things she had to endure. But I shut her out anyway.
She was an easy target for my displaced anger, and now, the joke is on me. Because as I sit here, in a room filled with highly regarded people, the only person I want to eat with is her. She may have been broken, but her spirit kept her from shattering.
“I couldn’t survive without you, Dove. You know that, right?” I tell him.
“Yes, you could, Callie.” He nods, delivering a squeeze to my shoulder. “Your heart was built to endure destruction. It wasn’t created to easily crumble. It was molded to fight.” His head tilts on the softest smirk. “That’s the strongest kind, Dove. You’re blessed.”
She was admirable.
She’s someone I want to be.
A vibration tickles my chair. The buzz jolts my eyes from the glass of ice water to my left side. For a moment, I fling my attention to everyone around the table, but they’re still submerged in mindless chatter.
I slip my hand inside the crossbody dangled around the back of my seat. When I pluck my phone out, my gaze swerves to Jesse before landing on the new text on my home screen.
Brant
I’m outside. Can you break away for a minute? Please.
My stomach leaps when I read the simple message.
It’s seven o’clock at night on my birthday, and I haven’t heard a breath from Brant all day.
I could understand if he wanted to give up on our friendship, or whatever this is.
Especially with the way I’ve been acting lately.
But if he didn’t at least acknowledge my birthday, that would be the kind of disappointment I couldn’t bounce back from.
Let anyone else forget my birthday.
Let anyone else in this entire universe walk past me today without saying two words to me.
I wouldn’t give a shit.
Just not him.
Not Dove.
My emotions morph to salty droplets in the crooks of my eyes. I tuck my lips on the next inhale, and then I’m scooting my chair back.
When I clear my throat, I say, “I need to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”
Jesse turns to me, resting a palm on my bare shoulder. “Are you okay?”
I nod eagerly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
When I shed a quick smile, he bobs his head before steering his attention back to Roger.
I stand, walking to the restroom corridor. My hand wraps around the polished column of the entry point, and as soon as I disappear behind the corner, I retreat to peek one eye out. Lindsey, Roger, and Jesse don’t seem to have the slightest clue.
No matter the amount of paranoia crawling up my back at the moment.
Then I’m heading to the front of the restaurant.
When I peek over my shoulder one final time, it’s only a couple steps until I’m exiting the glass door. My heels tread along the concrete pavers of the walkway under the black awning. My head pokes left and right, the pastel hues of the evening sky transitioning to vibrant pinks and purples.
Spotlighting Brant’s Tacoma in the back corner.
My legs kick into action. I’m practically jogging along the asphalt of the parking area, and his dress shirt and black slacks appear.
He’s resting the bottom of one shoe on the front bumper behind him, and I almost mistake him for Jesse.
He’s dressed in Jesse’s usual attire. Minus the unfastened black tie casually draped over his shoulders.
My stomach pitches, my body decelerating when I begin to lose hope. Hope that I won’t have to be reminded of the recent events of my life.
Then his head swerves to me. Those hazel irises reminding me just how different he really is.
And I finally find her.
She’s swimming in those almond-shaped eyes.
I rush over until I’m lurching myself in his arms. His large body snuggles me so tight that I can hardly draw a breath in.
“You can’t be here,” I whisper harshly, my cheek planting against his torso. “What’re you doing?”
“It’s my favorite day of the year.” He murmurs the words into my hair like a serenade. His palm cups the back of my head, his thumb stroking there until my iced heart begins to thaw. “Happy Birthday, Callie.”
Goosebumps erupt on my flesh as his stubbled lips graze my hairline. The contact blends with the brush of his white dress shirt—the coziest blanket I’ve ever been wrapped in.
His woody scent threatens to swallow me, but I retreat from his hug just in time. My hands cup his elbows, and I incline my chin toward him.
It looks like his hair has grown a bit more on top. Thick and soft—perfect for sweeping my hands through.
Just like I remember.
“There was a last-minute networking event I had to attend,” he explains, referring to his clothes.
I shake my head. “I can’t stay. I have to go back,” I breathe through a panic.
“I know.” He nods, swallowing a fat knot. “But I have something for you. For your birthday,” he adds. “Do you think it’s possible that I can give it to you later?”
My palms drop from his elbows, and I glance over my shoulder to the steakhouse building. “You didn’t have to get me anything. Just seein’ ya is all I needed today.” Then my attention circles back to him. “And I really needed this. You don’t know how much,” I croak, wagging my head.
My eyes swell with syncing tears, and his hands dip into his pockets. “He’s going to Manhattan tonight, right?”
“Yes,” I answer, flicking my attention over my shoulder once more.
“If you decide to come, my door will be open.”
I dart my eyes to Brant, but he’s already backpedaling to his driver’s side. My throat bobs when he pulls the truck door handle.
“If you don’t, at least I got to see you on your twenty-eighth birthday,” he says.
“Don’t go.”
I hardly whisper the words through quivering lips.
I know I have to walk back, and my legs slowly retreat from his proximity. My body continues to face his truck, and all I want is for him to just toss me over his shoulder. Lug me in his Tacoma, and steer us into the sinking sun above.
His presence is like a damn EpiPen stabbing my thigh, blasting my airways open.
A couple hours ago, I fought to breathe. Now, I’m beautifully overwhelmed with oxygen.
My chest pumps viciously when his engine roars to life. I spin in the opposite direction, my hand flying to my forehead when I trek over the blacktop.
All the way to the entrance of the restaurant.
The ashes of his touch burn into my skin, the debris filling every hollow pocket inside me.
Ten years ago, I ran away from everything I once knew.
Ten years later, I’m running right back to it.