Chapter Forty Sophie #3
When I confronted Paul.
All these moments where I could have backed down, run away, crumbled weak to the ground.
But I didn't.
And look at me now.
Maeve flips the next card, and her lips curl into a knowing smile. "The Lovers," she announces.
Immediately, I glance behind me, and of course, Callum is already looking with a soft smile on his face. Okay? He mouths, and I nod, blowing a kiss to him. His cheeks darken, and I turn back to Maeve, hearing Tonya rib him.
Maeve chuckles, "Self-explanatory, my dove."
Maeve flips the last card and blinks in surprise. The air around us feels charged, and I pick up the card, drawn to it immediately. The intricate wood-burned sun design glows beneath my fingers, the paint warm oranges and yellows.
"The Sun," I read the text at the bottom, and glance back up at Maeve, whose eyes are glowing almost golden in the warm candlelight.
"Joy. Good fortune. Warmth returning after a long winter," Maeve says, reaching out and laying a warm hand over mine. "The Sun doesn't appear for those destined to stay in the dark."
"Thank you, Maeve," I whisper, and she squeezes my hand once.
"You're welcome, my dove."
◆◆◆
"Oh, okay... wow..." I slur out, my tongue feeling heavy, and a slow smile curving my lips.
I'm back in a very cold, very white, very sterile pre-op room, uncomfortable on these scratchy hospital sheets, but none of that matters because Callum is here, gazing down at me like I'm the only person in the world.
He chuckles softly, "You feel it, my otter?"
"Oh, yeah," I giggle, my chest feeling so funny and warm, especially when I see the amused smile on Callum's face. I reach up and run my fingers over the thick cable-knit sweater that he's wearing. It's so soft, and clings wonderfully to his form, showing off his broad chest and shoulders.
He looks very warm and cozy.
And cuddly. So impossibly cuddly. I wish I could crawl into his lap and burrow into him like a groundhog or something. Touching and looking at him is good too. "Yeah, I feel... good. Like I'm floating. And buzzy. And happy. I'm so happy..."
Happy because I'm looking at my handsome man, who's looking back down at me. Goodness, did he get even handsomer? Is that even a word? It should be, and in the dictionary it should include a picture of Callum's face... actually, no, I don't want anyone else drooling over my otter...
"I don't want anyone but you drooling over me..." he leans closer and murmurs, voice dropping low with a mischievous tone, "... and on me."
"Can you read my mind?" I gape up at him, eyes wide. Otter, can you hear me?
Callum barks out a laugh that echoes off the sterile white walls, "No, baby, you said it out loud."
"Ohhh... that makes sense..." I blink up at him and smile again, slow and dreamy. "Wow... you're so pretty."
"Pretty?" Callum's eyebrow arches, smile curving his lips and causing his beard to twitch in amusement.
"Mhmm... prettiest man in the world... and you're mine.
.." I reach my hand up to cup his cheek, and I miss completely and hit his chin.
He catches my flailing hand in his large, warm one—oh, wow, he's so warm—and holds it gently against his cheek, rubbing his jaw into my palm like Plot.
I sigh dreamily. "My pretty Callum... I love you so, so, so much.
.. it's like I made you in a lab... Franken-Callum. .."
I snort at my own joke, hearing some quiet laughter from the others in the room. Then I gasp, "Oh, wait no—Frankenstein is the scientist, not the Creature—"
"It's okay, baby." Callum soothes me, and I'm instantly distracted by his eyes. Like fresh, warm chocolate, shimmering a bit as he looks at me, "I'll be your Franken-Callum..."
"Nooo," I whine while shaking my head, though it's more of a loll, not a shake. My tongue feels like it's a thousand pounds, and it's hard to get the words out now. "Not Frankenstein. It's like... like I shook a book really hard and you just... poof, you fell out."
I giggle at the image the words create in my head: Callum falling out of one of the books in his store and appearing in my life just when I needed him.
Callum chuckles, "Oh?"
"Mhm... perfect, pretty man. Straight from the pages. Mine, all mine..."
"All yours, my otter," Callum's voice is thick, and he brings my hand to his chest, holding it in both of his warm ones. So cozy. So solid. His heart is thump-thump-thumping—a little faster than usual. "Always yours."
Closing my eyes, I hum happily at his words, drunk on love and that good stuff flowing into my IV. I know the smile on my face is silly, lopsided, loose. I don't even care—I feel good, I have a total dream man holding me, and I'm about to get the cancer cut off from my body.
Cancer.
Cut off.
From my body.
Oh, right, it’s December 30, surgery day.
Like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over me, my body goes cold instantly. The silly smile falls from my lips, and my eyes snap open, meeting Callum's. His own smile drops, and he leans closer to me, every muscle in his body tightening.
"Baby?" he whispers.
"I'm scared."
Callum's face collapses for a fraction of a second, his eyes filling with pure misery before he closes his eyes for a brief moment, and when he opens them, he looks at me with such a deep, reverent love it makes my breath catch.
"It's okay to be scared," he murmurs, voice steadying for me, even as his jaw flexes with worry. "But, the doctors and nurses are going to take perfect care of you until I can take care of you after."
I've already said my 'see you later, not goodbye' to Maeve, Tonya, and Tess, who are in the family waiting room. Only one person was allowed back here with me in the pre-op room, and Callum had immediately backed down for Tess to go with me, but she had shaken her head.
"Nope, you go, Callum," Tess said before hugging me tight and whispering in my ear. "You need him."
And I did. I do. I'll always need him.
My friends texted me this morning in our group chat. As did Donna and Rich. All wishing me well and luck with the surgery. With all this support behind me, I still feel scared, but I feel more ready.
Taking a deep breath, I ask Callum, "You'll be here when I wake up?"
"The second you open your eyes," he promises, voice fierce and protective. It almost sounds like a challenge to the hospital staff in the room—an unspoken, just try to keep me from her. It settles something deep inside me. "I will be right here."
"Promise?" My eyes sting. Everything feels so far away, so cold, except Callum. My hand tightens around his, at least I think it does; my body feels like it's been replaced by a bunch of noodles. Don't let me drift.
"I promise, baby."
"We're going to take her back now," the nurse, Breonna—from her soft voice and the nametag over her scrubs—tells us gently as she appears by my bedside. Her brown eyes are kind as she smiles down at me behind her mask. "Ready to get this nasty cancer out of you, Sophie?"
"Yes, please," I slur, smiling at her. I turn back to Callum, who leans down and kisses my forehead, pressing and lingering for a long moment. "Callum..."
"I love you," he says immediately, his voice low and thick, peppering my face with kisses between his loving devotionals. "I love you more than anything—baby—my sweet girl—my otter..."
"I love you too," I say, warmth filling my chest at his words, at his touch. I lean my head into his hand, "And I'll love you forever and ever and ever..."
Callum places one last kiss on my head, slow and heartbreaking, before the bed begins to move.
And then he's gone from my line of sight.
I try to turn my head, but the medication is pulling me under, soft and heavy.
I can't focus on anything. It's all a blur of faces, of light, of whites and blues and greys until I'm staring at the bright lights of the ceiling, and a pair of kind green eyes.
"Okay, Sophie, I want you to count back from a hundred..."
"100... 99... 98... 97..."
I'm out before I hit 96.
The last thing I see before I slip into peaceful oblivion is Callum's pretty face smiling at me.