Chapter Thirty-Four Sophie #3
Turning to where Bailey is looking, I see a beautiful redhead walking toward us.
She's petite, dressed in a mauve-colored dress with long, sheer sleeves.
Her vibrant red hair is swept into a loose updo, a few soft curls escaping to frame her delicate face and complement her fair skin.
She beams as she reaches our table and wraps Bailey in a tight, affectionate hug. "Oh, my girl, I'm so happy to see you."
Michael stands and pretends to pout, arms extended dramatically. "What about me? Your favorite son?"
"Shush, I'm talking to my favorite daughter," she teases, releasing Bailey with a laugh, before turning to the rest of us.
"Sophie, Callum—this is my future mother-in-law, Claire Salvatore," Bailey says brightly.
Claire's face softens at our names, and Callum and I stand up to greet her.
"So nice to finally meet you, Callum," Claire reaches out, shaking Callum's hand with a smile, before she takes my offered one in both of hers.
As I look at her, she reminds me of Donna, her expression taking on that distinct maternal warmth of someone who wants to mother everyone she encounters.
It's something I've always admired about Donna—the kind of person I would like to be one day, when I have my own kids.
Those kids have been appearing in my thoughts and dreams even more lately—with brown eyes and dark brown hair and their little noses buried in books.
One day.
Hopefully.
"Sophie," Claire says, voice rich and sincere, "Oh, it's so lovely to meet you, dear."
"It's so nice to meet you," I respond genuinely. "Your hotel is absolutely beautiful."
"Thank you so much for coming," Claire replies, releasing my hand with a final, gentle squeeze. "I read Bailey's article about you—it was incredible. I have to say I admire you so much."
"Oh," I feel my face flush a little at the praise. Her face is so open and kind, her eyes so earnest, and it's clear that she's not just saying that. She means it. "Thank you, Mrs. Salvatore," I say, a little shy.
"It's Claire, dear," she gently corrects me, "And just Grant, when you meet my husband—"
"Talking about me, anima mia?" a deep voice chimes in, and a tall man appears at Claire's side. He kisses her cheek with a loving tenderness and slips his arm around her waist like it's where it belongs.
Grant Salvatore.
The twins look exactly like him—the same olive skin, square jaw, and same nose with a slight bump.
Except for the eyes, they are all Claire's.
His silver-streaked hair is neatly swept back, and smile lines fan out from the corners of his eyes and mouth, signs of a life full of happiness and laughter.
While Claire exudes pure elegance, Grant radiates warmth and a hint of mischief.
The love between Claire and Grant Salvatore is evident.
Claire wasn't tense while we were talking, but her husband's presence seems to steady her now.
The look in his eyes is pure, gazing at Claire like she's the only one who exists in this room.
Years of love and life in those eyes, decades of unwavering devotion.
I yearn for that, and when I feel the man next to me slide his own arm around my waist and pull me closer, I smile contentedly, and satisfaction blooms in my chest.
Found it.
Claire turns toward us again, her hand resting lightly on Grant's chest.
"Darling, this is Sophie, from Bailey's article," Claire smiles, turning to us. "And her boyfriend, Callum. He owns that bookstore that Bailey loves."
We share a look at the title—objectively right, but also... not. Boyfriend feels too little for what Callum is to me, for how I feel about him.
Partner, love of my life, best friend, my otter...
All of those are appropriate and correct, and so is mine. Callum is mine. And I am his. That's that.
"Nice to meet you both," Grant says, "Please let us know if there is anything we can do to help. Anything you need. Friends of our Bailey are friends of ours."
Claire motions for us to sit at the table, Claire taking a seat next to me while Grant sits next to his son.
Callum resumes his position with his arm on the back of my chair, and Bailey sits on the other side of Claire.
The men start talking while Claire turns to me with a smile, "God, you girls look incredible," Claire compliments us.
"Thank you, Mrs—Claire," I correct myself. "How long have you owned this hotel?"
"Well, it's been in my husband's family since his grandfather opened it back in the fifties. Grant had to take over after his father passed, and that was about thirty years ago now."
"How did you and Grant meet?" I ask curiously, feeling Callum's fingers trailing along my spine again.
Claire smiles instantly, glancing down at the engagement ring and wedding ring set on her left finger. The gorgeous, opulent emerald-shaped diamond appears large enough to be seen from space.
"I'm an art dealer, and Grant was looking for a painting for his mother for her birthday by a specific artist, and it was one that I was featuring.
He came to my gallery, and he says he was struck with Cupid's arrow when he first saw me," she rolls her eyes affectionately, and I laugh, glancing over to see Grant smirking at his wife.
"Struck me right in my ass," Grant supplies, both hands over his heart. "Saw the most beautiful woman I had ever seen and knew I wasn't just walking out of there with that painting."
Claire shakes her head at her husband before turning to me.
"I had just gotten divorced, so I was...
not doing so great," Claire admits with a shrug, the smile not quite reaching her eyes.
"I had a... similar experience to yours, Sophie.
Not cancer, but infertility. My ex-husband cheated on me, got another woman pregnant, and left. "
"Oh, God," I breathe. "I am so sorry."
"What you said in the article—how what you lost was worth what you gained.
I understood immediately, because I felt the same.
Not at first, of course. I had thought that my ex-husband and I were happy.
We were struggling to conceive, but... I naively thought we would work through it together.
Maybe even adopt if we continued to be unsuccessful.
But he really wanted a child—a son, specifically. "
Bailey lays a hand on Claire's shoulder, and she reaches up to squeeze it, smiling at her future daughter. I can hear Grant hiss a curse in Italian under his breath, and he takes a swig from his glass.
"And I couldn't give that to him, so he found someone who could," she shrugs, there's a small trace of hurt in her eyes, not a longing, but just... an echo. Kind of like how I feel when I think of Paul's betrayal.
I don't miss him, but the thought of how I felt still aches.
"And then I gave you two boys," Grant raises his glass, his face smug as he gazes at his wife. She sends him a dry look, and he blows her a kiss. He looks seconds away from beating his chest in victory; he has his wife, his sons, and he's completely winning in life.
"Yes, my husband will say it's his... Italian virility," Claire shakes her head in amusement as Grant appears to puff like a peacock.
"Ew, Dad," Michael gags as Grant just sits back in his chair like a king on his throne.
"You'll be thankful for that someday," Grant points a finger at his son, shrugging. "If you and Bailey decide to give us grandchildren."
Bailey beams brightly at Michael, who meets her eyes and winks at her.
"All that to say that I understand what you went through," Claire reaches out and lays a hand over mine on the table. "And I admire your optimism. As my husband said, if you need anything—money, doctors, a ride to treatment—we're here to help. You're important to Bailey, so you're important to us."
"Thank you," I reply, feeling Callum's hand brush over my shoulder and squeeze. "Thank you so much."
"A toast! To Sophie!" Grant says, raising his glass. My cheeks flush as everyone at the table grabs their own glasses. Callum grins at me as Grant looks right at me and says, "To resilience, to victory, and to kicking cancer's fucking ass. Salute!"
"Salute!" everyone repeats, then takes a sip from their glasses.
Callum leans down to kiss my temple as I smile, taking a sip from my sparkling water, feeling warmth spread from my chest at the support and love I've been shown.
...
Callum and I sway softly on the dance floor, in a sea of couples dancing together, but it feels like it's just us. Surprisingly, I don't feel tired or sluggish, I feel completely wired right now. There's an anticipation growing in me, and I think he feels it too.
Callum's hand is on my lower back, his fingers flexing slightly, pulling me closer to him. His other hand is in mine as we slow dance to the soft, romantic music. I close my eyes and breathe him in, feeling almost overwhelmed with the emotion that's threatening to burst from me.
So I let it.
"Callum?"
He leans down to kiss my head and murmurs against my temple. "Yes, baby?"
"I love you."
I can literally feel every muscle in his entire body tense at my declaration, spoken so plainly like I was just stating a fact.
Because it is a fact.
He pulls back to meet my eyes. I don't flinch, I don't waver, I look right at him, and I smile.
Callum swallows, and he reaches his hand up, caressing my cheek with his thumb as he practically begs,
"Say it again."
"I love you, Callum Rhodes," I oblige, giddiness flooding me.
I feel so alive, so full of joy and gratitude that I've been given the gift to fall in love with this wonderful man. The entire journey to now has been some of the greatest and scariest moments of my life.
And I wouldn't change a single thing.
The words fall from my lips as easily as breathing. There's no more fear, there's no second-guessing, doubts, no other choice.
I choose Callum.
I love Callum.
His brown eyes glisten at the edges with tears, but the smile that grows on his face is so wide and bright and happy.