3. Callie
Chapter three
“Do you think my brother was kidding when he said we weren’t allowed to be home before midnight?” I ask, leaning across the table so Maevyn and Liv can hear me. “Cos I’m not sure how long my boobs will hold if I don’t pump in like, three hours.”
We started our night out with shots at a karaoke bar down the street, before making our way to The Wayside. It’s got good music, plenty of places to sit, and a fancy cocktail menu. Even though we all opted for a classic margarita.
Maevyn laughs. “I guarantee he won’t even notice the time. He’ll be too happy that we’re home.”
“You don’t think he can handle a baby for a few hours?” Liv asks, finishing her drink.
“He can handle it.” Maevyn nods. “He just misses me.”
“Ugh, please don’t.” I pretend I’m grossed out, even though I’m smiling. “I’m very happy for you both, but that’s still my brother.”
“Did you end up hearing from any of those jobs?” Liv asks, switching the subject.
I sigh, tipping my head side to side. “I’ve got a few interviews lined up for next week, but everything I find seems to have great hours with a long commute, or it’s close to home and a few daycares, but they want more hours than I ideally want to work.”
Caspian also messaged me this morning, letting me know Mum’s car battery needed replacing and she missed two shifts this week.
He covered the cost—he makes good money at the tattoo studio where he works, plus he helps out at his friend’s garage from time to time—but it shouldn’t just be his responsibility to look after Mum.
Sometimes I feel guilty for moving away from home, but I have my own daughter to think about.
How could I do my best raising her when I’m weighed down by my mother’s heartache?
Sometimes being strong is knowing when to pull away.
I wouldn’t abandon my mother, but I also don’t want to be dragged down with the ship.
I want to help her rise above it while showing myself I can do the same.
Maevyn reaches across the table, covering my hand with hers. “I know it sucks having to leave your child to work. You feel guilty for the hours you miss with them, especially when they’re so young, but trust me when I say, as long as you’re trying your best, they’ll love you regardless.”
Maevyn understands the struggles that can come with solo parenting.
Thankfully, she had a best friend on her side and the cop who was protecting her identity.
She was hiding from her past, and to her, that meant shutting everyone out.
Until my brother forced his way in, of course.
Now, he loves her daughter like his own.
“Thanks.” I smile. “I know it’ll be fine once I get started. It’s just the thought of it all that has me stressing.”
“We’ll always be here to help you,” Maevyn says, squeezing my hand before pulling away and picking up her almost empty glass.
“Okay, this is getting far too mushy, and we’re all out of drinks.” I laugh, sliding out of the booth. “Another round?”
They both nod, so I make my way through the busy Saturday-night crowd and join the line at the bar. Big bulb lights hang from ropes, soaking the space in a warm glow that bounces off the exposed bricks and beams.
I check my phone while I slowly make my way to the front of the line, making sure Westley hasn’t messaged me, but there’s nothing more since the selfie he sent when we first arrived an hour ago, as well as the one from my mum that I’ve ignored.
MUM:
Has your father called you? He said he’d be home yesterday, but there was bad weather overnight. I’m wondering if they were delayed getting back to the mainland.
I heave in a patient sigh before I respond, commanding the calm it takes to not only think about my father but acknowledge his existence in any way.
ME:
Nope. I haven’t heard anything from him since Navie was born. How are you, Mum? Is work okay? Cas said you had some car trouble this week? xx
I try to move the conversation away from Dad, to inadvertently steer her towards worrying about herself instead of my sperm donor. That’s how I’ve come to think of him over the last few years.
I gave up trying to maintain any form of relationship with him when my grandmother spilled the beans about my long-lost brother. If it weren’t for her dementia, we may never have learnt about Westley, the child my father had with his high school girlfriend seven years before Caspian was born.
Because my father was a teen at the time, my grandmother was involved in the adoption process.
My father has always had one foot out the door in our family, but finding out there was more he kept from us was the final straw.
Even Mum hadn’t known. That was also when I changed my last name from Knight to my mother’s maiden name, Moore.
I was done trying to hold space for someone I barely knew, especially when he held no such space for me.
The crowd shifts, creating a gap at the front of the bar, so I squeeze in and wait until one of the staff notices me, raising my hand each time they pass, only to be ignored for someone taller than five-foot-five.
A guy on the stool beside me lifts a hand in the air, and two seconds later, a waitress comes over. My mouth drops as I take him in while he orders a beer.
Oh, I see how it is. Apparently, you need to look like that to get any attention here. I’m mad whilst at the same time completely understanding. He’s gorgeous. I’d ignore everyone else, too.
“There you go.” The waitress places the guy’s drink in front of him, so I lean in, ready to claim her attention next, annnnd she moves to the person waiting on his other side. Fantastic.
“Well, that’s alright. I wasn’t that thirsty anyway,” I mutter to myself.
“What was that?” The question comes from a voice that is the embodiment of effortless and cool. It’s a raspy drawl that lingers on every nerve ending, and when I turn my head to meet the face of the person who just spoke… Holy. Shit.
From his side profile, he looked like a classic Hollywood heartthrob.
Chiselled clean-shaven jaw, straight nose, and deep-brown hair with a slight wave to it.
It’s styled in a way that looks like he’s run his hands through it, and the strands have just stayed there, loose, tousled, and soft.
Front on, however, he is truly devastating.
Those eyes. Mismatched and hypnotising. The left eye is a muted green, haunting and calm, but his right eye is blue. It’s vivid and full of mischief.
“Did you say something?” He smiles, waiting.
Shit, he’s rendered me speechless with his perfect looks—something I’m certain he’s used to.
“No.” I shake my head. “I was just waiting for the bartender to notice me.”
He turns on his seat, giving me his full attention as his eyes drag from my feet back to my eyes. The art of subtlety is clearly lost on this guy.
“What are you drinking?” he asks, eyes so intently focused on me, as if he’s locked in on a mission. I’ve met guys like this before, the ones that ooze confidence built purely from never having been denied, and guess what, that shit doesn’t work on me. Not after my ex.
“Three margaritas,” I say, raising an eyebrow in challenge.
He tilts his head. “Thirsty? Or are you stocking up for the night in case the staff keeps ignoring you, though I’m not sure how they’re managing that.”
I’ll give it to him, he’s smooth.
“I’m out with my girlfriends tonight,” I say, no room for misinterpretations of what I’m here for.
He nods, then searches over my shoulder down the bar and lifts a hand. Only a few seconds pass when another bartender comes straight to him.
“Are you kidding me?” I say, turning to him as I cross my arms over my chest once the bartender steps away to make our drinks. “For you, they come?”
He leans an elbow on the bartop, clutching his chin in one hand as he winks. “Jealous?”
My cheeks are on fire as I hear the double entendre of my last statement mixed with his response.
“Hardly.” I scoff, hoping the lighting in here is dim enough that he can’t see the way I’m blushing. It’s infuriating to admit, even in my head, that just because I won’t entertain an obvious playboy, doesn’t mean I won’t blush from the attention.
Stupid hormones.
I’m going to put it down to the simple fact that it’s the first time I’ve gotten dressed up and gone out in my post-partum body.
After months of going through rapid, confusing, and sometimes uncomfortable changes, it’s nice to be looked at with appreciation.
Though I’m not sure I trust how honest it is.
Perhaps I look single, and that’s enough.
“I haven’t seen you here before,” he says. Truly groundbreaking flirting, ladies and gentlemen.
“That’s because I’ve never been here.” I match his stance, resting my arm on the bartop. He’s still taller than me, seated on the stool while I’m standing. “You’re clearly here a lot if you know you’ve never seen me.”
He leans in closer, bringing the scent of something fresh and clean with him. There’s mint, but also a hint of something spicy and earthy like patchouli, along with a subtle sweetness. It’s complex, sophisticated, and, I loathe to admit it, fucking delicious.
“No one would forget a pretty girl like you in a hurry.”
The most unladylike, undignified snort erupts from the back of my throat.
“Thank you,” I say as the bartender sets one of the margaritas in front of me. “I’m sure many women fall all over you by now. I mean, let’s be real, you probably just need to look at them, and it’s a done deal, but I can assure you, the effort is wasted on me tonight.”
“Ahh, so another night then?”
My eyebrows jump so high, so quickly, I almost give myself a headache. “Ahh, no. I’m not really a club-scene girl.”
I reach for my purse as the bartender sets the last two margaritas in front of me. The guy rests a big, warm hand over my wrist as he shakes his head. It’s surprisingly rough for a man who looks so perfectly polished and put-together.
“It’s on me.”
“That’s very nice, but I can’t let you pay for my and my friends’ drinks.” I’m aware guys normally do this if they think it’s leading somewhere, a show of intent, but I’m not intending to do anything but go back to my table and spend the rest of the night with my friends.
“I insist. And I won’t take no for an answer.”
“I’m not sleeping with you,” I blurt out, and that cocky little smirk that seems painted on his face grows wider until it stretches into a grin.
“I wasn’t asking.” He chuckles.
“Good.” I try to hide the mortification that engulfs me. Maybe he did just want to buy the drinks to be nice? No, this guy screams player. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
“We’re on the same page,” he assures me, but there’s still an air of amusement to his words. “Besides, if I wanted you in my bed, I wouldn’t need to ask. You’d be begging for it.”
See, total playboy.
“Shame we’ll never put that theory to the test. But don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll find someone else to test it with.
” I purse my lips, faking disappointment, only to be met with his undying amusement, that smile never fading as his eyes dart around my face as if he’s mapping out every inch. “Thank you very much for the drinks.”
“My pleasure.” He rests his chin on his closed fist as he watches me balance the three drinks in my hands. “Do you need a hand?”
“I’ve got it.” I smile, slowly turning away from the bar. A woman slides onto the stool behind him, eyeing him up and down appreciatively. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from more rewarding pursuits.” I tip my chin over his shoulder at the woman.
He frowns, looking behind him, barely glancing at the woman before he looks back at me.
“Maybe I like a challenge.”
“Doubtful!” I shout over my shoulder as I move further away, feeling the weight of his attention on my back the whole time, and I struggle to rein in the smile on my face.
For the rest of the night, I tried to avoid looking in his direction.
I’m not interested in dating right now. I need a break from men, and I’m not quite ready for anything casual, even though I’ve always enjoyed sex.
Before I was pregnant, I loved to explore my sexual desires, especially with a partner who was just as enthusiastic.
The end of my relationship with Navie’s father, however, left me questioning how my emotional needs were just as important as my physical ones, and that’s something I don’t think I’m ready to navigate just yet.
I let Maevyn and Liv lead the conversations for the rest of the night, hoping their lives would provide the distraction needed to forget about the brown-haired heartthrob still sitting at the bar, because yes, I did keep looking.
Every time my eyes dared to sneak a peek, he was either already looking at me or somehow managed to sense my attention and diverted his gaze past whoever he was talking to, catching my eyes before I pulled them away.
A lot of people came up to him, women specifically, and they were not shy about their intentions. A hand on his shoulder. His perfectly corded forearm. His thigh. And he indulged every one of them with that cocky little side smirk.
When Liv, Maevyn, and I eventually called it quits for the night, I still felt his eyes on me as we headed to the front door.
I looked over at him, simply to prove a point.
Yep, a blonde stood in front of him, laughing as she playfully smacked his chest. His eyes were already on me, and I gave him a self-satisfied shrug as if to say, Told you you wouldn’t be going home alone tonight, buddy.
But it was never going to be with me.
I’ve met my fair share of playboys. Had my heart broken by one, too. I won’t be fooled by another pretty face. If my ex taught me anything, it’s that when people show you who they are, believe them.