Chapter Sixteen Sophie #2
I think what I saw last night tore apart whatever feelings still inside of me lingered for Paul, because right now, there isn't any fondness left in my body for him. Certainly no trust or respect, only a faint, sour-tasting echo of love.
I've come to realize that love without trust is just... an emotion, ultimately useless without an action to back it up.
Emotions can really hurt, though.
That kiss last night then stabs into my mind like a blade, and I violently flinch, knocking over my glass of water all over the counter.
“Shit,” I mutter, and Callum's brow furrows. He quickly moves to grab some paper towels and then cleans my mess up for me before I can even move. I try to take the sopping paper towels from him, but he just waves me off and grabs more. "Callum, you don't have to—"
"I know," Callum gently cuts me off, wiping the counter dry and then looking around for a trash can. I motion over to the wall by the window, and he throws the sopping paper towels away. It’s then that he sees the box pile in the living room and asks, his voice a little tense. "Are you... moving?"
"Oh, no," I shake my head. "That's just some of Paul’s stuff that needs to go to the donation center."
"Oh," Callum says with what sounds like relief before looking at the boxes again and shrugging. "I'll load it in the truck and take it there after I drop you off."
My eyes widen. "You would do that?"
"Yeah, I'd do anything for you," Callum answers immediately, and my cheeks flame in response. He freezes as his own cheeks darken, seeming to realize what he just said. He scratches his beard, his face looking a little embarrassed. "I mean, it's really no trouble."
"It wouldn't be an inconvenience?"
"None at all," Callum shakes his head with a small grin. "Mom's got the store, and Tuesday mornings are never busy."
I nod, but still feel a little guilty. He's already doing so much for me.
Jumping slightly when I feel his warm fingers on my chin, he tilts my head up, and my eyes widen when they meet his gaze.
We've had small touches here and there, with me laying a hand on his arm, our shoulders touching during book club, fingers brushing when we pass each other something, and that time he brushed my hair back from my face and made my heart stutter.
But he’s never been so bold before, and the expression on his face is intense.
"You know you can talk to me, right?" he murmurs gently, and my head's already moving in a nod.
"Yes," I whisper.
"About anything," he stresses, his eyes melting. "Seriously, I'm... I'm always here to listen, Sophie."
"I know," I nod once more and reach my hand up, laying it gently on his bare wrist, his pupils dilating slightly at the contact. "Thank you."
He lingers for a long moment, expression suddenly unsure as his eyes seem to ask if this is okay. Smiling as my answer, he returns it with a soft one of his own before letting go of my chin.
Clearing his throat, he points toward my coffee machine. "Do you want coffee?"
Coffee sounds amazing right now.
"Yes, please,” I sigh.
"Go shower and get changed. I'll get your coffee and pack your snack bag."
"Apples and peanut—" I start to say, but he's already nodding.
"—peanut butter and your oatmeal," Callum finishes and then grins a little smugly. "And chocolate chip cookies."
"I don't have any choc..." The words die in my throat when I see him reach into his tote bag and produce a Rise N' Grind bakery bag. "Oh!"
"Freshly baked by April this morning," he says, shaking the bag a little. "She said she picked out all the best ones just for you, and I quote: 'The ones with the best equal distribution of chocolate to dough.'"
The bag has my name written on it above a little doodle of a daisy.
I squeal and make a gimme-gimme-gimme motion with my hands, and Callum hands the bag over with a chuckle.
The aroma that fills the air when I open the bag is heavenly, and I grab one of the cookies, breaking off a piece and popping it in my mouth.
I hand Callum the other half, and he takes it with a surprised smile.
"Breakfast of champions," Callum teases, biting off his piece, and I pointedly look away when his tongue sweeps across the smear of chocolate on his lips.
The twisting in my belly now has nothing to do with nausea.
"Thank you," I smile when I finish chewing, before resealing the bag and placing it on the counter. "It is a little concerning how well you know me so fast."
"It hasn't felt fast," he shrugs, turning toward the coffee machine and grabbing two mugs from the cabinet above it. His words settle heavily in my chest.
"No, it really hasn't," I agree with a small smile, heading to my bedroom.
Quickly showering, I deliberately avoid looking at myself in the mirror and instead gently run my brush through my hair, pointedly ignoring how much hair is caught in the bristles.
I dress quickly, pulling on my soft black leggings, a chunky sweater, and a pair of fuzzy pink socks with ice cream cones on them (another pair from Tess's care package).
Opening my closet, I shove my feet into my tan wool-lined boots, grab the single baseball cap I own from college and pull it over my head, adjusting it in the mirror. I'll have to get some more hats for the foreseeable future, softer ones since my scalp already feels a little tender.
When I walk into the kitchen, Callum has two mugs of coffee ready, made just like the way I like it—hazelnut creamer, no sugar.
He turns as I enter the room, and his eyes scan me from head to toe, this time with a little more appreciation in his gaze.
His expression says he likes what he sees, sending that fluttering feeling again low in my belly.
I focus on looking casual and unaffected as I put the packed snacks into my tote bag, then take the mug from his hands.
"Thank you," I smile as he grabs his own, and we both sit at my small kitchen table together, drinking our coffee in comfortable silence.
This whole thing is so casual, but also somehow feels incredibly domestic and almost intimate. Callum and I share glances with each other, smiling when our eyes connect.
"You look nice," he suddenly says, and I feel myself blush at his compliment. I feel like I look anything but nice right now, but Callum's words land right where I need them to. I know by now that he doesn't just say things to be charming, he really means them.
"One good thing about chemo is the excuse to wear my clothes that feel more like pajamas.
It's so weird, the chemo made me feel cold last time," I tell him, reveling in the warm mug in my hands.
I've always run a little colder, which makes me a natural cuddler, seeking warmth wherever I can find it. Chemo has only exacerbated that.
"I read that happens," Callum nods. "Besides that and nausea, anything else that's been bothering you?"
I have to force myself not to reach a hand up to my head to adjust my cap. I just... I know that it might be vain and shallow, but I'm not ready for him—or anyone—to see me with my hair falling out.
It's just hair, and I know it will grow back, but still.
.. I love my hair. I love the color of it.
I've always gotten compliments on it, or even had a few friends in college bring a picture of me to their stylist to show what color they wanted.
It always cooperates when I style it—if I want it curly, it stays curly.
If I want it smooth and straight, it flows smoothly like a waterfall.
It's a part of me, and now it's falling out, and I can't do anything to stop it.
So, I shake my head at Callum’s question.
"Not yet. You've really done your research, Mr. Rhodes," I tease and nudge his leg with mine under the table. The action makes him blush, and I melt at the sheepish look on his face. Cute. "You thinking of changing careers?"
"Definitely not," he laughs, before shrugging his broad shoulders. "Just really good at reading up on something when it's caught my interest."
I take a sip of coffee, unsure of how to answer that. It seems he always says something so sweet that catches me off guard.
"Oh, hey, I thought of another movie to watch for our movie nights," I say, and he looks at me curiously. "'13 Going on 30'."
"I actually don't think I've seen that."
"What?!” I gasp and reach out to grab his arm. “Okay, we are adding that to the list and moving it up to the top. Callum, it's like 'Big' but for girls! Tess took me to see it in theaters when it came out. It's so good.”
He smiles and gently taps the kitchen table, "I'm sold."
"Really?" I brighten, but then deflate a bit. Paul was okay with watching the movies I wanted to see, but he didn't really like rom-coms much. Which was fine, and I just don't want to force Callum to watch these movies with me if he doesn't like them. "It's a rom-com, if you don't like—"
"I like rom-coms," he shrugs before adding with a slight wince. "Except, 'The Notebook'. That movie rubs me the wrong way."
"Right?! 'Go on a date with me, or I'm going to kill myself' is not my definition of peak romance," I grumble, and Callum laughs, his smile bright.
"Definitely not. Also, the whole cheating on Lon thing was not for me."
"Yeah, me either," I joke, a little darkly, and he cringes at the mention of infidelity.
To my delight, there’s a lack of ache or pain at the memory of Paul confessing. I don't know if it's because seeing that last night extinguished some of that pain, or Callum's presence is just so soothing that it masks all pain, but I sit happily in the peace I'm feeling.
"So, our list will remain 'The Notebook' free, but I'm definitely adding '13 Going on 30'. You'll love Jenna and Matty."
"Sounds good," he raises his mug, and I smile, tapping mine against it with a light clink. We finish our coffee, and I run to brush my teeth, turning my phone on as I scrub.