Chapter Nine Sophie #2
"He's just worried, Ton," Callum says with a shrug, his voice dripping with understanding.
"He really loves Jane, and everything is so good right now.
He doesn't want to mess up their friendship if she doesn't feel the same or isn't ready for a relationship.
I don't think she's ever been in one before. "
"Oh, she's ready, she's just scared. She's been making heart eyes at him for the last year," Tonya insists, shaking her head. "I swear, I'm two more meetings away from just locking them in the supply closet for seven minutes in heaven."
"They'll figure it out," Callum soothes, and my heart melts a little bit more at his sweet assurance.
"Yeah, well, it is entertaining. We're living in a real slow-burn romance novel, folks."
Callum shakes his head at her words, and I can't help but laugh out loud. Tonya threatened to skin my ex alive, and she looks like she could totally do that violent act with a smile on her face, but I can tell that she's a total cinnamon roll on the inside.
There's also something else there, a certain sadness behind her eyes. It’s like a tension in her face that won’t allow her smile to reach its full capacity.
There's a story there, maybe one day I'll find out.
Tonya reaches toward the ground and slings a matte black motorcycle helmet over her shoulder.
"Anyway, I got an all-day client tomorrow, I gotta go home and sketch up some ideas."
"I'll walk you out," Callum says, nodding toward the front of the shop.
Tonya looks at me and grins, "Sophie, you're one of us now. No takesie-backsies."
"It was nice to meet you, Tonya,” I say with a small wave.
"Back at you, cutie," she says, tossing me a playful wink.
Callum leads her to the front, and I walk to the table, straightening all of the crooked chairs. Glancing at the cat tree, I smile when I see Plot—position changed—but still sleeping peacefully.
Oh, to be a cat...
"Sophie, you don't have to do that," Callum says as he returns, just as I push the last chair neatly into place.
"I'm a Virgo," I explain with a shrug, and then cringe. Paul had called astrological signs nonsense. I never really took it too seriously, but I just thought it was fun, the same way I thought Maeve reading my tarot was fun. A little spooky from how accurate she was, but fun.
Callum probably thinks I'm silly, and I grin a little sheepishly. "I need order, or it'll bother me."
"I get that. I'm a Libra," he grins, wide and unbothered, waving his hand in a lazy side-to-side motion. "I'm very go-with-the-flow."
I blink at him, surprised—but also... not.
"What?" he asks, reading the look on my face, and I shake my head to clear it.
"N-Nothing. I'm just kinda surprised you actually know your sign."
He shrugs like it's obvious, "You've met my mom."
"Oh!" I glance around as if Maeve might suddenly pop out from behind a bookcase, asking if I want another tarot reading—which I wouldn't say no to, honestly. "Where is she, by the way?"
He points upward with a fond grin, "Every night she goes up to the roof to watch the sunset, and then she meditates for an hour or so after. It's a... very peaceful time for her. She's always done it with my dad."
My smile softens at the warmth in his voice. "Oh, your dad's here too?"
"No, uh..." Callum scratches the back of his neck. His expression drops, and my heart drops along with it. "My dad passed away about ten years ago."
"Oh, Callum, I'm so sorry." I instinctively step toward him and gently lay my hand on his arm. His eyes snap to mine at the contact, and I feel my arm muscles tense like I was shocked by an electric current. "You guys were close, huh?"
"Yeah," he says, nodding with a genuine smile. "We were... real close. We did pretty much everything together. All three of us."
The expression on his face isn't so much sad as wistful, as if he's been pulled into a memory. I can't help but ask, "What was he like?"
"Quiet, but really kind. Strong. Caring.
Good. He loved my mom so much. She was everything to him," Callum says softly, eyes meeting mine.
A look of longing briefly crosses his face before he blinks it away.
"We worked in contracting together, but he was a really talented carpenter.
He made all the tables and chairs, and all the bookshelves in the store. "
I glance around and there's a whole new value behind these beautiful woodworks. Made with love for his son, for his wife, for his world.
I realize my hand is moving on its own, in a soothing motion on Callum's arm, and it breaks the little spell over me. Reluctantly, I drop my hand, "Do you look like him?"
Callum smiles. "Spitting image. Well, besides my eyes. He said he was always happy that the two people he loved most shared the same color eyes."
“Oh…” I melt at that, "That's really sweet."
"He, uh... was never really good with words, but my mom could pull it out of him," his smile cracks a little at the sides, pulling down slightly. "He loved her so much. She really misses him."
"She... feels closer to him up there?" I nod toward the roof, and he nods.
"Yeah, she still talks to him, tells him about her day, about me. It... comforts her."
I nod because I don't really know what to say. I picture Maeve—that kind woman who comforted me on Thursday—alone up there speaking to the late love of her life, and it breaks my heart.
There's just something so devastating about loving someone that much. And then they die, leaving you alone with that love still surviving.
At this moment, I can almost understand Paul’s actions, his fear and seeking comfort.
Almost.
Because when you do find your person, it only ends two ways—breakup or death.
I'd rather it be death.
I can imagine Maeve's pain was—is—catastrophic, but the fact is that she still talks to her husband. She still remembers and honors him every day. She's still loving him, even when he's not here, because love shouldn’t be something you place on a shelf to sit and admire.
Love should be an action you perform—over and over again—every second of every day. In the grand and small gestures, through presence and action.
And you do it joyfully, happily, without a second thought.
Because that's what it means to truly love someone.
To choose them.
And that... well, that's where Paul failed.
The love I have for him has nowhere to go. It's like a muscle that suddenly has no purpose—but muscles shrink over time when they're unused.
One day, that love I have for Paul will shrink too, until I don't feel it anymore.
One day.
And that little bit of hope will carry me.
In the meantime, I have some pretty good distractions to keep me from exercising it.
"Thank you for asking about him," Callum pulls me from my thoughts and smiles softly at me. "Sometimes, when I tell people that he died, they just change the subject, but I love talking about him. I love him. He was the best man I ever knew."
I smile. "You can always talk about him to me. He sounds wonderful."
"I like that you talk about him in the present tense, too," Callum returns my smile, leading me to the front of the store. "He's still here—in every crevice of Rivers & Rhodes, in my mom's heart and... I hope in the way that I am."
"I'd love to hear more about him anytime," I tell him quietly.
I glance at the grandfather clock, and I'm startled by how fast the time has slipped by. It's almost ten.
"Oh, I should get going," I say, stepping toward the front door before his voice stops me.
"Wait—Sophie, are you walking?"
I shrug. “Yeah, it's only twenty minutes to my apartment."
Callum's mouth twists, and he scratches the back of his neck, "I, uh.
.. listen, you absolutely can say no. I know we just met, and I get that you probably don't want just anyone knowing where you live, but I'd feel a lot better if I gave you a ride home.
It's not exactly an unsafe town, but... it's late. "
I open my mouth to respectfully decline, not wanting to inconvenience him, but then I think of another promise to myself—let people help. It would be nice not to have to walk home in the dark, and I’m exhausted.
And despite only knowing him for a short amount of time, I trust Callum.
"You're sure?"
"Of course," he says, reaching over the register and grabbing a pair of keys and a worn brown leather wallet.
Main Street is empty at this time of night, and as Callum locks up, I’m suddenly very glad I accepted the ride. He leads me to a black, older-model pickup truck, and I'm surprised when he walks to the passenger side and opens my door.
"Oh," I breathe, and slide in the car with a smile. "Thank you."
My belly flutters when he returns my smile with a soft one of his own. I watch as he rounds the front and climbs into the driver's side. The car smells like him, and I melt into the worn-in seat.
Carefully, he pulls away from the curb, my address plugged into the GPS on his phone, and soft rock playing on the radio.
"What did you think of the club?" He asks, eyes still on the road.
I grin. "I really, really liked it."
"I'm glad," he nods, lips twitching. "So... will you come back?"
"Definitely."
He smiles broadly at my answer, and the silence that grows between us is comfortable. There is something I'm curious about, though.
"Can I ask you something, Callum?"
"Of course," he answers immediately, glancing at my face briefly before looking back to the road.
"When I said Paul's last name, you looked like you knew it. Do you know him?"
Callum's hands flex on the steering wheel, his expression going faintly guarded, making my stomach twist.
"We, uh... we went to school together," he says, his words are slow and seem deliberate. "He was a grade above me. Played football and ran with the popular crowd. You know, the classic cliché high school hierarchy."
"Yeah," I realize my voice sounds a tinge bitter, because that's just like Paul.
Popular, charming, always gets what he wants.
Always puts himself first.
I look out the window and frown.
Huh, interesting how things can become a little clearer without the rose colored glasses.
"His mom was always nice. I never really knew his dad that much," Callum tries to steer the conversation in a more positive direction, and the thought of Donna O'Connor makes me smile.
"Yeah, Donna's great," I smile softly, before a thought hits me. "Did you guys play football together?"
Callum barks a laugh, "No, I did not do sports."
"Oh," I frown, a little taken aback. We pull up to a red light, and he slows the car to a stop, allowing him to look over and read my facial expression.
He raises an eyebrow, "That surprises you?"
"Kinda?" I shrug. "I mean, you look more like a football player than Paul does, so..."
"No, I felt more comfortable with books than balls."
I snort and immediately cover my mouth with both hands as I dissolve into laughter. Callum’s cheeks flush, and he shakes his head at himself, scrubbing a hand down his face.
"God, what is it with me and innuendos?"
"I think it’s chronic at this point," I try to get control of myself. My cheeks are sore from all this smiling tonight, and I close my eyes to really soak in this moment of pure joy.
When I open them again and turn toward Callum, ready to share in the humor still lingering in the air, but he's not laughing.
His face is slack, but his eyes are dark and intense, lips curved into a slight grin. My cheeks warm and I feel my stomach flip.
There's that charged feeling again...
A loud honk from behind us breaks the spell we're under. Callum blinks and waves a quick apology before pressing the accelerator, the moment slipping away.
"It really is," he says, picking up the conversation from where it drifted. "No, I'm not really into football. I was always more into books. I was kind of a chubby kid, too. Didn't really hit a growth spurt until high school."
I nod, imagining a younger version of Callum—round-faced with big brown eyes, nose buried in a book. Adorable.
Soon, way too soon, we're pulling up to my apartment building. He idles at the curb, and I find myself disappointed that our time together is ending.
"Sophie?" Callum asks gently, stopping me just as I reach to unbuckle my seatbelt. I pause and look at him, tilting my head in question. "You're very brave. You understand that, right?"
I blink, caught off guard.
"You were nervous when you showed up tonight. I could see that. You just had your entire life turned upside down, and you still showed up with a smile tonight. You were still kind to my mom, to me, after... that."
I can barely breathe as my heart thumps almost wildly in my chest. Callum swallows and locks eyes with me, his voice softer now.
"I don't think I've ever met anyone like you before."
I will not cry, I order myself as my throat tightens. I will not cry, not in his truck, not after such a good night. I repeat the mantra, but the tears sting my eyes anyway.
"That's..." I croak, clearing my throat when my voice cracks."That's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me. Thank you."
Callum doesn't look away. "You were wrong about one thing, though."
"About what?"
Callum shrugs, "You said you didn't have any friends, but you do. The whole book club—every one of them. And me. We're friends now... right?"
"Yes," I answer immediately, hoping that my eagerness doesn't put him off. It only makes his grin widen. "Yes, Callum, we're friends."
"And friends help each other," he says, voice firm now. "So if you need anything—anything at all—you call me, or text me. I'll be there."
"I will," I promise, grin practically splitting my face now. "Thank you, Callum."
"You're welcome, Sophie."
I smile and grab my tote bag from the floor, turning back to him once more. "My numbers in the group chat. Will you let me know when you get home safe?"
His eyes light up at my request, like I've surprised him in a good way. "I will. I promise."
"Thanks for the ride."
"Anytime."
He waits until I'm safely inside my building, and it's only when I step into the elevator that I catch his truck slowly pulling away from the curb.
Before long, I'm showered, changed into my fuzzy pajamas, and sliding into my bed to read a little more before I see a new text message.
Home safe.
When my dad died, one of my friends told me this, and I never forgot it: You're allowed to fall apart. As many times as you need to. Just don't forget to get back up.
I'm here for you.
Sweet dreams, Sophie.
His words are like a warm, weighted blanket, sinking into me with pure comfort. I know the smile pulling at my lips is ridiculous, cheesy even, but I don't care as I save his contact and text back.
Thank you.
Goodnight, Callum.
Sweet dreams.
Sleep comes easily tonight