Chapter Thirty-Five Callum #3
I don't know what's comforting about it, though. It seems to be about rich women getting Botox, buying expensive clothes, attending lavish dinners, and yelling at each other.
"Why are they always arguing?" I ask Sophie as one lady almost flips a table in the middle of an argument.
"They're rich, they have no real problems, so they're bored," Sophie replies without missing a beat. "Also, it's mostly scripted."
"And you like this show because..."
Sophie considers the question for a moment before she smiles.
"It's like us at the zoo," she says. "Observing strange, fascinating creatures in their natural habitats."
I bark a laugh at her explanation. She smiles briefly before suddenly looking a little shy. "Are you bored? Do you want me to turn it off?"
"No," I reply immediately, meaning it. "It's actually quite entertaining."
Sophie beams and settles back into my side.
A soft, gentle rain begins falling outside, the sound lulling us into peace. We're warm inside, watching this ridiculous show and cuddling together.
It's calm. It's tranquil.
It's... everything.
"This was the best day, Callum." Sophie's words are a sleepy whisper against my chest.
Those words land heavy and warm, settling in my bones. I want to replicate this feeling again and again.
Leaning down, I kiss Sophie's head. "It really was."
◆◆◆
"Aw, it says it's gonna rain for the next week," Sophie says, scrolling the weather app on her phone and sounding a little disappointed.
It's been raining on and off all night, the sound softly lulling us to sleep.
We're waiting at the elevators, about to check out and head back home.
She pouts, her bottom lip poking out in a way that threatens to unravel me.
"We won't be able to watch our sunsets."
The way she says our makes something warm bloom in my chest. Our sunsets. Ours.
"I'm sure we can find things to do—inside and warm," I lean in close, dipping to meet her eyes.
The thought of a rainy week spent inside with Sophie, whether at the store or at her apartment, doesn't sound bad at all.
I grin, watching as her disappointment completely dissolves, a matching grin blooming on her face.
"You, me, Lord of the Rings Extended Editions? "
The elevator dings its arrival, the doors sliding open, and Sophie hums with pleasure at my words. "Have I told you that I love the way your brain works, Mr. Rhodes?"
"Once or twice," I shrug casually, biting back a smile as I hold the elevator door for her. She presses the lobby button, and when the doors glide shut, I wrap my arm around her shoulders. "But I'll never get tired of hearing praise from you."
"This weekend was..." she starts, her voice trembling. Her eyes are a bit glassy as she tilts her head up, "Thank you so much, my otter."
"Anything for you, baby," I murmur, dipping to kiss her forehead.
But the moment my lips touch her skin, I freeze.
She's warm.
A little too warm, especially since she usually runs cold.
Well, she is bundled up, and it's warm in here. She felt warm after her shower, but I figured it was from the water, and her wig keeps her head pretty warm, too.
It's probably nothing to worry about. It's fine. She's fine. She's smiling, sweet, and happy.
And yet...
"I love you," she murmurs into my chest, her voice a little sleepy. Is it a little hoarse, too? She was talking a lot this weekend and laughing so much.
"I love you," I reply as we reach the lobby. I grab our suitcase with one hand and take her gloved hand with the other, squeezing gently. She's okay.
When we wait for the valet to get our car, Sophie smiles at me before her face suddenly pulls into a grimace, and she coughs into her fist. And again. The sounds cause my brow to furrow—sharp, and a little wet-sounding.
"You okay, sweet girl?" I ask, keeping my voice light. Even as the muscles in my stomach tighten.
"I'm okay," she smiles, and it looks a little strained, forced. "Just a long weekend. I'm beat."
I nod as the valet pulls our car around, and help her get settled into her seat.
We stop at Dunkin' for coffee, but when I ask Sophie what she wants, she asks for water instead.
When we're on the way home, I can see that her hands are a little shaky as she lifts the bottle to her mouth.
She drinks slowly and long, looking at me out of the corner of her eye like she's trying to prove a point—that she's fine, that there's nothing to worry about.
So I tell myself she's right.
Sophie knows her body. I don't want to overstep, take control, or ask her repeatedly if something is wrong. But the worry settles deep and uncomfortably in my gut. Especially as she tries to smother more coughs on the way home.
When we're twenty minutes from home, she drifts off to sleep.
We fell asleep a little early last night and had a bit of a lie-in, but the chemo really does take it out of her.
And the rest is good for her. I reach out to brush some of the hair away from her forehead, but when I feel her skin, that worry only burns hotter.
She is still warm. Actually, she feels even warmer.
Almost hot.
My eyes flick back and forth between the road and Sophie. Her usually adorably animated sleeping face is twisted in discomfort—her brow furrowed, and her lips turned down.
I'll get her home, get her in her bed, and she can rest as long as she wants.
She doesn't have chemo until Tuesday, and I'll tell my mom to start interviewing.
If she likes someone and has a good feeling about them, hire them on the spot.
I need to be more available for Sophie. I need to be there to take care of her.
"She just needs to rest," I tell myself, my hands tightening around the steering wheel. There's no music in the car, I don't want to disturb Sophie, and I think I'm too anxious to listen to anything anyway, so when she makes the noise, I hear it.
And my stomach drops.
It's a small whimper—like she's in pain—and tugs at my heart before she cuddles deeper into her scarf.
My foot threatens to press down harder on the accelerator, to get her home faster, but I can't.
Because the sky ahead looks wrong.
Dark, brutal-looking storm clouds with an almost sickly green tinge.
We're driving right into the storm. I lean forward in my seat, focused on the road, and hear thunder roll deep in the distance.
The rain that's been steadily falling picks up and pounds against Sophie's sedan the closer we get to home.
The storm itself doesn't scare me, but I...
I can't help but see it as a warning.
A bad omen.