Chapter Eighteen Sophie #2
"Sorry," I apologize, though there's a small smile on my face, and he just chuckles.
"Worth it for you to get good sleep," he shrugs, stretching his arms up and giving me a peek at an abdomen dusted with dark hair. My brain goes blank at that small strip of skin.
Oh...
I swallow and clear my throat, nodding toward the hallway.
"The bathroom is down the hall to the left."
I hurry into my own en-suite bathroom to attend to my business. I quickly brush my teeth and rinse my face, grimacing at my reflection in the mirror—sleep rumpled, an indent on my cheek from Callum's t-shirt, and my hair is looking crazy. I should feel embarrassed, I would normally, but I don’t.
It's Callum.
He's seen me, the worst of it so far—vomiting, crying, broken, and balding Sophie—and he's not running for the hills.
Still, I smooth my hair down and change out of my pants and hoodie.
I grab a pair of black leggings, a white sweatshirt, and new white socks with little hearts on them to change into.
When I take my phone out of my bag and plug it in, I see it's a little past eight in the morning. I really hope that I didn’t mess up his or Maeve’s morning routine.
When I walk into the kitchen, Callum is already there making us coffee.
I smile and grab two mugs out of the cabinet.
Just as it did yesterday, this action, this mundane ritual, feels incredibly domestic and comfortable.
Callum just smiles at me as I take my usual morning medication with a glass of water.
A knock at my door makes me frown in confusion, since I don't expect any deliveries or visitors this early.
For a moment, I panic thinking that it's Paul, that he's back because he forgot something, or worse, wants to wish me a happy birthday.
Callum sees my frown, the flash of worry on my face, and is already moving, heading toward the door.
"I got it, Sophie," he assures me, and the protective stance, combined with the way he just immediately walked to the door for me, makes me smile. I have to distract myself by pouring our coffee and trying not to spill it.
"Uh, Sophie?" Callum's voice asks as he comes back into the kitchen, sounding a little confused and surprised. "Is it your birthday?"
Turning my head, I see him carrying in a large fruit bouquet that makes me laugh—Tess. Even halfway across the world in a different time zone, she still remembers to send me my usual birthday gift from her.
"Yeah," I smile, taking the bouquet from him and placing it on the counter. His eyes widen at my response, but I just nod toward his coffee on the counter, made the way he likes—two sugars, no cream.
"Why didn't you say anything?" Callum asks, leaning his hip against the counter and lifting the mug to his lips. I shrug and read the card from Tess, smiling at her words and aching from missing her.
Happy Birthday to the strongest, kindest, most infuriatingly humble woman I know. I love you. I'm proud of you, and I'll see you soon.
Love always,
Tess
"I don't know. There's so much going on, and I was happily distracted, and..." I turn to face him, unwrapping the bouquet and grabbing a couple of grapes. My voice drops, "The possibility it could be my last..."
A flash of pain crosses his face for a brief moment, but understanding softens it, and he nods. "I just wish I knew, I would have gotten you—"
"You already gave me a present—something I desperately needed," I remind him, smiling softly at him and stepping closer.
"Watching one of my favorite movies and getting a really good night's rest. I'm very practical about gifts.
I don't want unnecessary clutter. I want things that are thoughtful and useful, and you gave me that in spades, Callum. "
His face brightens at my words, and he gives me a big, toothy grin. Handsome, I think, dangerously so.
"Still..." Callum says, before his eyes light up. "Are you doing anything tonight?"
I shake my head, "I was just going to order food and hang out here. Why?"
Callum's smile widens, before he tries to smother it a bit—trying and failing to look casual. I narrow my eyes at him, suspicion creeping in, but my mouth still tilts into a grin.
“What’s that look for?”
"Come to the store tonight? We'll celebrate, I'll get your favorite cake—the yellow with chocolate buttercream, right?"
My jaw drops open, "You remember that?"
"Of course," he shrugs, chuckling a bit. "I've never heard someone argue how the yellow cake and chocolate icing combination is perfectly balanced, complementary, and how the reverse should be categorized as a war crime."
I sniff, mock-haughtily, "I'm passionate about my confectionery, thank you very much."
Callum laughs, bright and open. "As I'm learning."
I share a smile with him as we sit at my kitchen table, and I glance down at the mug in my hands.
It's one of my new ones, with the Virgo constellation on it.
Callum has the one with a little cartoon doe on it, and the way his large hands swallow the mug makes me smile.
I had donated Paul's mugs, trying to scrub any trace of him left from this place.
I think I've pretty much gotten all of it, except...
"When I didn't come to book club," I start, feeling Callum look over to me. "I was on my way, but I saw... I saw Paul outside Haunts. With her. Elise."
Callum's compassionate expression softens even more, like he can feel the storm of emotions churning in my chest.
"It was just like taking a punch to the gut, actually seeing them.
.. how they were when I was still ignorant to it, thinking that my fiance was faithful and loyal and not.
.. that," I scoff, shaking my head. "I actually threw up from the sight of them.
It looked so intimate, so romantic and loving.
Like any person walking down the street would look at them and sigh dreamily and think, 'I want that.
I want a man to hold me and kiss me like that.
' Without knowing what he had to do to have that with her. "
"Sophie..." Callum whispers, his hand reaching out to cover mine, and oh, the contact of his warm hand over mine breaks me in the best way. His touch is a quiet promise from him, telling me that I'm safe, that he's here, that everything is okay.
I shrug, my eyes stinging. "I just still feel so stupid and naive for trusting him.
For just assuming he would stick with me through this," I gesture to my hair, to my port, to my entire body.
Callum's eyes soften, rich and warm like melted chocolate, and his thumb strokes gently over the back of my hand.
The touch is so tender, it makes my eyes sting even more, and I feel a tear escape down my cheek.
"I know this is scary. I'm terrified, but he didn't even wait for the confirmation that it's cancer—he had sex with her the first time after my biopsy appointment.
I had been so anxious that entire day that I was exhausted—mentally and physically—when we got back here.
I just wanted to sleep, but he said that his friends wanted to meet for drinks.
Honestly, I wanted him to stay with me. But I thought, 'God, Sophie, don't be selfish, he should have a support system right now too,' so I told him to have fun. Apparently, he had a lot of fun."
Callum's voice is low, but firm when he tells me, "It's not stupid, nor is it naive to expect loyalty and respect and fidelity from your partner, Sophie.
That's pretty much the bare minimum you should give in a relationship," he scoffs in disgust, shaking his head.
"It's just typical Paul. Choosing the easiest path when faced with difficulty. .."
Silence, like all the air has been sucked out of my kitchen. My body goes cold at his words, and Callum blanches, not meeting my eyes.
"Callum?" I whisper, and he doesn't answer for a full minute, before I see his shoulders drop and he scrubs his free hand down his face.
"Paul and I... well, I thought we were friends at one point," he tells me, and I suck in a short breath. "I told you, he was a year above me, and we would walk home from school together sometimes."
"Friends? You and Paul," I ask, and he shakes his head, his face and tone taking on a bitter edge.
"I thought we were. I had told him about this girl I had a crush on back in high school.
He encouraged me to tell her, so I did. I wrote her this dumb letter confessing my crush and put it in her locker.
She played along, acting as if she liked me too, but she and Paul and all their friends were just laughing at me behind my back.
She told me to meet her at the park, that she wanted to tell me something.
It was just an ambush. Paul and all his friends were there.
She read the letter out loud in front of them, and I ran away. "
My heart hurts for Callum. I rub at my chest trying to relieve the ache, but my mind keeps picturing teenage Callum—sweet and round-faced with the same warm smile—being humiliated in front of everyone.
And God, does it make me pissed at Paul.
How could he do something like that? Something so cruel and vicious?
Paul always said he was the golden boy, beloved throughout Starling Cove, and I had seen evidence of that from the restaurants, bars, and shops we'd visited.
Everyone always said hello to him, asked about his parents, and he would introduce me with pride.
They would fawn over me, telling me what a great kid Paul was growing up.
I honestly could never picture Paul as a bully—that was never the Paul I knew...
But I believe Callum.
"I am so, so sorry, Callum," I say, my voice hoarse and heartbroken.
"It's okay, Sophie," he grins at me, squeezing my hand gently. "It's schoolyard stuff. I honestly had forgotten about it until..."
"Until I walked into Rivers & Rhodes..."
Callum then grins, bright and true and happy. "Until you walked into my life."