Chapter Twenty-Two Sophie
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sophie
"Apple Cider Funnel Cake," I take my final bite and sigh in pleasure, the cinnamon sugar dusted on top melting in my mouth like a dream. "I hope whoever invented this sleeps on a cold pillow every night and hits every green light they ever encounter."
We're waiting in line for the Ferris Wheel, finishing off the last bit of our shared funnel cake. Callum chews his piece slowly, eyes crinkling with amusement as he watches me go full heart eyes over this decadent dessert.
"That would be Tia Washington," he says after he swallows. "She's been making this since I was a kid. Says she's taking the recipe to her grave, so good luck when she's gone."
"I would too if I discovered gold," I brush my hands together, shaking off the remaining cinnamon sugar dust. Callum steps forward, takes the tickets from his pocket, and hands them to the attendant.
Overhead, the lights blink in warm pastels, casting the world in a dreamy, romantic glow. We climb into our wobbly bench seat, and the attendant clicks the front latch into place before stepping back. Narrowing my eyes, I press on the latch to check its sturdiness.
"No duct tape," I observe, satisfied, and Callum chuckles. He stretches his big arm behind me and lets it rest across the back of our seat, making me feel that much safer.
"I promised," he replies, and I find myself leaning into him, seeking the heat of his body.
The ride begins, slow and steady, gently raising us toward the sky.
The world below transforms into a glowing painting of carnival lights and darkened cornfields stretching into the distance.
Halfway up, the wheel halts to let more people on.
It's quiet up here, save for the muffled laughter and conversations of the other riders above and below us.
His voice cuts through the peaceful stillness without disturbing it.
"How are you feeling?"
"I feel great," I assure him with a smile. His check-ins are quiet but still attentive, making sure I'm okay, asking if I need anything, or if something feels off. It’s appreciated. "Seriously, they upped my anti-nausea meds, so I haven't been feeling as sick."
"And the..." he motions to his own head, and I shrug, adjusting the hat on my head.
"Unfortunately, it looks like I'll be rocking the Dr. Evil look soon," I sigh, trying to make a joke of it.
It works—he smiles, a small huff of laughter through his nose. "You'll be a really hot Dr. Evil, though."
The compliment hits me like an electric current, the echo travelling through my body with a pleasant hum. I'm momentarily speechless as I watch the skin above Callum's beard turn pink.
That's my Callum, his mouth running faster than his brain can keep up.
And God, if I don't adore that about him.
I adore him.
Which is why I won't let him suffer and try to take some of the embarrassment away before it swallows this beautiful moment.
"Callum Rhodes," I gasp, scandalized in the most unserious way. I poke his side gently, and his lips quirk in a small, shy grin. "You think I'm hot?"
"I think you're beautiful," he replies immediately, the words weighed heavily with sincerity—no hesitation, his gaze locked on mine. "I think... you're the most beautiful woman I've ever known."
My heart races, a rapid thump-thump-thump that's rattling my entire body. I've been called beautiful before and complimented on my looks, but from him, it feels different. I don't think he understands how much I need to hear that now, and the thing is, he's not just saying them. He means it.
"You're sweet," I say, my voice low and breathless.
"I'm honest," he shrugs, and I feel his arm brush against my back a little more now. I lean into him more and bite my lip to try to contain the cheesy smile threatening to overtake my face.
"Still sweet," I affirm quietly, losing the battle and smiling widely as the ride groans and creaks around us, the seat beginning its slow lift into the night sky again.
"How's work going?"
"Oh, it's going good. I'm getting more work done since I'm not wasting time commuting to the city,” I grin, still happy about that. “My boss is pleased, so I'm hoping I can parlay this into going full-time remote when all this is done."
"You really do like your job, huh?" Callum asks with a small grin.
"Oh, I love it. I get to work with spreadsheets all day. Spreadsheets, Callum,” I stress delightedly, making him laugh.
Not just the spreadsheets, I really enjoy the people I work with, and the rhythm of the job comes naturally. I can always appreciate the certainty of numbers, reading financial reports with more ease than some novels.
"God," he says, sounding impressed as he rubs the back of his neck with his free hand, "I wish I could just get numbers the way you do. That's gotta be my least favorite part of owning the store—the financial nonsense. I dread tax season every year."
"I could... take a look at your finances, if you'd like?
" I shrug, trying to keep it casual even as I preen at the edge of praise in his voice.
I press my lips together, pausing a half second before looking up at him and adding, "Maybe I could put together a spreadsheet to make things easier for you? "
“You'd do that?" Callum's eyebrows raise to his hairline.
"I'd do anything for you," I say with a smile, echoing the very same words he once said to me. Callum's lips quirk, but his eyes soften like melted chocolate.
This relationship will never be one-sided. I’ll care for him just as he cares for me, with everything I have left.
"I'd pay you—" he starts to say before I shake my head, cutting off his offer.
"Nah," I say lightly, waving a hand with a teasing smile on my face. "Just buy me ice cream for life, and we've got a deal."
Callum pauses at that, and he looks at me—really looks—like he's seeing the promise underneath the joke.
For life—next fall, next year, and the year after that, and so on...
The idea of a lasting connection tugs at me. I have to believe in it. When negative thoughts threaten to overwhelm me, I need to trust that I'll still be here and that my body won't give in to cancer. I hope the treatments—the chemo, surgery, and radiation—will be worth it.
Hope is a dangerous thing to hold on to, but I won't succumb to despair.
I'll believe it, even when things get worse, like I know they will.
I'll touch my moonstone, and I'll believe in Callum's unshakeable presence, his warm smile, and his kind heart.
I'll think of wise Maeve, my wonderfully crazy book club friends, and Donna and Rich.
I'll think of Tess even though she's an ocean away. ..
I'll think of my family, the people who love me, and I'll breathe.
"Ice cream for life?" he repeats, like he's tucking the idea away. "Yeah. I can do that."
He says it effortlessly, like forever doesn't scare him, and the idea of me being here next year is just a given.
Not even able to help it, I shift on the seat until I'm fully leaning into his side, and his arm automatically curves around my shoulders.
Connected completely now, my head rests on his broad shoulder like it belongs there.
Because I do, this is exactly where I belong.
And then, with a brief pressure against my hat, I feel it—a soft kiss against my head, so gentle and sweet.
The Ferris wheel slows, giving us a view of the entire carnival. The shrieks of laughter, the clank of the rides, and the music playing below all fade into the background. For a moment, it feels like the universe is holding its breath just for us.
Callum's tone is soft, sounding almost unsure as he asks me, "Did... did you have fun tonight?"
I sigh contentedly and lift my head to meet his eyes, his expression hopeful. "So much fun. This is—hands down—the best date I've ever been on."
"I'm sure that's not true," Callum's brows lift, eyes narrowing just slightly in disbelief, like he's not sure I mean it. "There's gotta be better ones."
"No, there aren't," I tell him with full confidence. "First of all, this is the best carnival I've ever been to. You won me otters!"
Lifting my prize from my lap, I wave them at him, and he laughs that rich, warm laugh.
"Secondly... none of those dates were with you."
There's a current flowing between us, bouncing back and forth in a steady rhythm, an electricity only we can feel.
For a couple of moments, we just look at each other, Callum's eyes not leaving mine as he reaches out and brushes his warm fingers along my cheek.
The contact breaks me wide open, and the world shrinks and shrinks until it's just us.
"Do you feel it, Callum?" I whisper, not wanting to disturb the moment. His eyes lock onto mine, and his fingers shift, growing more confident, as he's cupping my cheek now. I want to purr like Plot when his thumb brushes slowly along my skin.
"Yeah, sweet girl... I feel it," Callum murmurs back to me, his deep voice a little husky. "Since the first time I laid eyes on you... I felt it."
I place my hand over his and turn my face, kissing his palm. He sucks in a sharp breath, his nostrils flaring slightly, and I keep my hand right where it is. His warm touch is so comforting, I want to sink into this feeling and stay there forever.
"My mom always said that the first time she laid eyes on my dad, she just knew," Callum says with a soft smile, his thumb resuming its gentle strokes.
"And my dad... he said the same. He never believed in her witchy stuff, but he told me that loving her was like riding a bike—once he started, he forgot what it felt like not to love her, and he never wanted to go back. "
I swallow hard, blinking fast to keep tears at bay. His words feel truer than anything I've ever heard.
I met Callum, and I’ve forgotten what it was like not to know him. He’s woven himself into me so tightly it feels like he’s always been there. Maybe he has.