Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 119005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Yet unlike last time, Callan kissed the tears away. Then he guided me to the bathroom to clean us up and after, he led me by the hand back to my bed.
We fell asleep in each other’s arms.
At some point during the night, he woke. I sensed his rawness, his desperation even as he drew me out of sleep to make love to me again. I gave him that because I perceived he needed it. We both needed it.
It would take a while for the magnitude of our feelings to settle.
Until then, we were a raw, open nerve.
But it was worth it to love him this much. Even if neither of us was quite ready to say the words out loud.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
BETH
“You good?”
Callan squeezed my hand and smirked at me. “It’s only your wee sister.”
The Monday after we agreed to be in a real relationship, I decided to ease Callan into meeting my family by introducing him to my sister Elle first. Mum had accompanied Dad to London for a long weekend. He was there for business, so Mum planned to meet up with her agent and publisher while they were there. Despite Elle insisting she was old enough to stay home alone, Mum and Dad insisted Grandma Elodie and Grandpa Clark stay with her.
Tonight they had tickets to the theater, and I’d offered to come over and keep Elle company. She protested, but I really wanted her to meet Callan. I wanted Callan to meet a member of my family without being overwhelmed by the lot of them.
Callan had a game the day after our reconciliation. I think it was a good thing because we might have holed up in my flat having make-up sex for the entire weekend.
Good news, he and Caley United went out and destroyed Leith United.
Bad news, the tabloids published online photos of me at the charity benefit with Iain Erstwhile, suggesting I was either cheating or Callan and I had broken up. Callan told me to ignore it, but the insinuation in the article was that I thought Callan wasn’t good enough if I was pursuing a man like Iain Erstwhile. Fecking feckers.
And then I got the good news/bad news that Mhairi was pregnant, and I’d have to find a replacement for her when she went on maternity leave.
“I’m on the bloody pill.” She’d sniffled down the phone to me, still somewhat in shock from the unexpected news. “We got cocky. Stopped using condoms. Now I’m pregnant ten years before I planned to be.”
I got off that phone call not only anxious about finding a photographer who was as good at content creation as Mhairi, but at the warning in her situation. Callan and I had stopped using condoms, too, because I was on the pill.
We needed to talk.
But after we visited with my wee sister.
Callan’s hand flexed around mine as I drew him to a halt outside my family home on Dublin Street. I wasn’t only nervous to introduce him to Elle, I was anxious about his reaction to where I’d grown up. My privilege and what he thought it meant was a spot of contention in our shared past. I didn’t want it to drive a wedge between us in our present.
“Ready?”
He stared up at the building and then nodded. I led him inside.
Callan’s lips parted as he took in the grandeur of the renovated Georgian townhouse.
“You grew up here?”
“Aye, this is home.” I nibbled my lower lip, studying his reaction.
He looked at me, his expression softening at whatever he saw in mine. “Can I get a tour?”
I grinned, my shoulders slumping with relief. “Absolutely.”
“Beth, is that you?” my sister called, her voice so faint I gathered she was in the kitchen.
“Aye!” I took Callan’s hand again and led him into the reception hall.
“Fuck me,” he muttered as he stared up the grand stairwell.
Chuckling, I took him past that and down the hall into the large kitchen at the back.
Sure enough, my wee sister was at the stove, cooking something that smelled of spices. She glanced over at us, her gaze zooming past me to Callan. “You really are Callan Keen.”
He nodded. “Nice to meet you.”
Elle pushed the frying pan off the stove so her food wouldn’t burn. Her long dark hair was piled in a messy topknot, and she wore a cropped tee and matching joggers. “I thought you were lying about dating a football player to make your life more interesting.”
She was teasing. Wee smartarse. I always thought because of our different coloring, we didn’t really look too much alike, but as she got older, I could see the resemblance.
Callan must have thought so, too, because he murmured, “Christ, she’s your dark-haired mini me.”
Snorting, I strode farther into the kitchen. “Callan, this is my wee sister, Elle. Elle, Callan … my …” Oh, we hadn’t discussed that far. Aye, we’d agreed to dating for real, but were we using titles? I didn’t want to scare Callan off.