39. Callie
Chapter thirty-nine
“Hey, sweetie.” Mum steps onto the back deck at Caspian’s place, where I’ve stayed hidden for the past forty-eight hours. “I put your dinner in the fridge. Are you sure you’re not hungry?” She holds Navie in her arms.
One good thing about coming back home has been watching my mum create a bond with her granddaughter. I should have visited more often.
“I’m okay.” I smile, then go back to staring at the sun as it dips below the horizon.
“Have you spoken to him?”
No. And I feel so ashamed for not knowing the right words to say.
For running instead of being by his side when he was going through shit.
I know his family will be rallying around him, but I’m disappointed in myself for letting my own hurt hinder my ability to be there for him, especially with how much he’s always done for me.
I shake my head as tears brim in my eyes. “I don’t know how to fix what I’ve done.”
“I’m sorry is a good place to start,” Mum says as the sound of Caspian’s motorcycle rumbles behind us. He passes down the driveway, pulling into the shed in the back corner of his open yard.
He removes his helmet, then unzips his leather jacket as he makes his way over to the back porch steps, silently assessing both Mum and me.
“Everyone doing okay here?”
“I was just trying to get Callie to eat something.” Mum gives me a tight-lipped smile as Caspian scoops Navie from her arms.
“Come on, Cals. I don’t think I’ve seen you eat anything since you got here. We both know what happens when you get hangry.” He grimaces playfully at Navie as he tickles her stomach.
“I had toast this morning.”
Caspian checks his watch. “It’s past seven.”
Huh, time passes quickly when you’re stewing in your own guilt. I can’t hold off the way my lip begins to tremble, and my vision grows blurry.
“Oh, my darling.” Mum comes to sit beside me, while Caspian pulls up the single armchair, sitting across from us as he lets Navie recline against his chest. “Not talking doesn’t solve anything. Trust me.”
“I’m so embarrassed about the way I reacted.”
“Sweetheart, if his messages are anything to go by, he doesn’t care about that. He just wants to fix things as much as you do. It’s okay if you fight on occasion, but at the end of the day, if you’re both fighting for each other, that’s what counts.”
“I wasn’t even meant to get in a relationship. I wanted to focus on Navie, and instead I let us both fall.” I wipe away the first tear that tracks down my cheek.
“Nothing in the world is more unpredictable than love.” Caspian stares at the hand that rests on his knee. Black feathers are inked from his forearm down to his knuckles. The blue leather bracelet he never takes off contrasts against the haunting scene.
“Your brother’s right,” Mum says, knocking her shoulder against mine. “Tell us what’s on your mind. You might feel better by getting the thoughts out. They won’t do any good festering inside your head.”
“I want to say sorry and beg him to forgive me. I want to tell him I don’t care about his past, and that Navie and I are so lucky that he loves us so much that there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to protect our happiness.
I want to tell him that I reacted in fear; fear of loving him so much that I forget to love myself, fear that he’ll one day change his mind and I won’t know how to live without him.
And in jealousy. I was jealous she had a part of him, and I couldn’t help comparing. ”
“This is my fault.” Mum rubs her chest, shaking her head. “I’ve been a terrible example. The crazy thing is, I did it because I thought I was doing better than what my parents had done.”
My eyes flick to Caspian’s as he watches our mother, his ice-blue eyes intense with caution.
“I thought I had to convince your dad that he wanted to be with me. I thought that’s what it meant when people say a relationship takes work.
Every time he left, I thought it was something to do with me, so I tried harder.
Over the years, he came home less and less, and I thought we’d become one of those couples who weren’t affectionate.
It was more like companionship, even though I had always wanted affection.
I thought I was meant to stick through my own unhappiness for the sake of my children, not giving you a broken home like I had, but these last few weeks, I’ve realised just how much I put myself last, how much I put what really mattered to me last. If I had spent less time trying to keep your dad happy, I might have realised what made me happy was my kids and my friends.
I didn’t realise I had a whole lot of people already in my life who did care about me.
And I know what you mean about comparing.
” Mum shakes her head, and I can see she’s more annoyed than sad.
“When I found out your father was already married, and I’d been the other woman for nearly thirty years, God, I felt so stupid, but I also thought: was there something wrong with me that I wasn’t enough?
I felt disgusted that I’d been intimate with him, and wondered how he could be with me and his …
wife.” Mum’s voice breaks over the word.
“Deceiving us both. His betrayal to her bred guilt in my own heart.”
“You didn’t know, Mum.” I weave my fingers through hers.
“I know.” She squeezes my hand. “But there’s a difference between my relationship with your dad and your relationship with Derek, compared to the one you have with Mason.”
“What’s that?”
“They didn’t want to be in it.” She touches her hand to my cheek, her thumb brushing away the now steady trickle of tears. “Your man is pleading for forever,” she says just as my phone dings on the seat cushion beside me. “Time to put you both out of your misery.”
She presses a kiss to my temple and stands up. “Now, I’m going to reheat your dinner, and you will damn well eat it.”
I chuckle as she disappears inside, leaving Caspian and me alone. I take a deep breath when I check my phone, expecting it to be Mason, but it’s Tristan.
UNKNOWN:
Hey, it’s Tristan. I hope you don’t mind, I got your number from Beth.
I just wanted to let you know Mason’s doing terribly without you, and I don’t say that to make you hurt or feel guilt, I just want you to know how much he loves you.
You’ve been it for him from the start. You should know what he sent me when he bought the house. It was always going to be you.
UNKNOWN:
[Attachment]
Opening the attachment, I find an original floorplan of Mason’s house, marked up with circles and hand-written notes.
Bookshelves: yes.
New informal lounge.
Knock out this wall. Keep the fireplace.
Make this a nook (homework).
Shaker cabinets. Gold hardware. Over stays.
Primary bedroom—bed must face east. French doors to a deck.
Playroom with Princess tower.
Get tyre swing.
It’s all the things I pointed out when we first looked through the house.
All the things I said I wanted if I were making it my own.
A faint memory flickers in my mind of when we walked through that first time.
“Maybe I’m just doing my homework. When the future Mrs Heart comes along, I want to know how to give her everything. ”
I choke on a sob as I look at the house of my dreams, built by the man who owns my heart.
He’s been writing me into the only story he’s ever cared about.
Ours.
“Cas,” I croak out.
“Fuck. What now?”
“I need you to do something for me.”