I save the tears for when I’m alone now.
They aren’t a daily occurrence anymore, which is something to be thankful for. But my heart still clenches, and my gut still twists if I think of Slade and where he is and what he’s doing. And the really self-destructive part of me has had me visiting Fifth Avenue more times than I care to count. I swear the doorman thinks I’m staking it out for a jewelry heist or something, given the amount of time I’ve spent gazing through the window, unable to bring myself to step a foot inside.
Mel and I finish up, and I spend the hour after she leaves until Callum is due to arrive drinking a cup of coffee and doing my best to avoid going online. I crack at forty-seven minutes and am still devouring some gossip columnist’s piece speculating over baby names for the upcoming addition to the Beaufort family, when there’s a knock at the door.
I close the article, and the picture of Slade’s blue-eyed silver-fox father, Sterling Beaufort, with his arm around his new pregnant wife, disappears. Soon, he’s going to have a baby sibling that he’ll never meet. I wonder if he even knows. Does he look them up like I do? Pore over every story and article? Or is it too painful to see how they’re continuing their life without him?
“Hi,” I say with as much enthusiasm as I’d greet a dog turd on the sidewalk as I open the door.
A giant bouquet of roses covers his face before he lowers them, peering over the top at me.
“Jude. You look… beautiful. Wow. I’ve missed you.”
I stare at Callum and arch an unimpressed brow.
“These are for you.” He thrusts the flowers into my arms, his face falling as he notices the pile of stuffed trash bags piled up in the hallway. “Jude…” He steps inside, his eyes widening as he surveys my spring-cleaning efforts. “Please tell me you’re not leaving. We can work this out. The thing with Kelly…” He winces, scrubbing a hand around the back of his neck. “It was a stupid fling. A couple of times, nothing more. It meant nothing.”
I stare at him as he flounders.
“What do you want me to do to prove it to you? Whatever it is, I’ll do it. Just don’t move out, please.”
“I’m not moving out.”
His shoulders fall as he exhales. “Thank y?—”
“You are,” I say, tipping my head toward the trash bags. “I packed for you because I’m helpful like that. If I missed anything, let me know. But I think I got it all.”
I smile when he says nothing.
“Jude…” he splutters, my words hitting their target and having the desired shock value that makes his eyes bug out of his head like one of those squeezy dog toys.
“Callum,” I counter.
“We can get over this, I know we can. Don’t… don’t be hasty, okay? We’ve got the rest of our lives for me to make this up to you. All of our friends, our families… they’re expecting the wedding to be rearranged. Your father’s waiting to walk his daughter down the aisle.”
I stiffen at the mention of my father, narrowing my eyes at Callum in distaste. He knows about the strains in our relationship, and how anxious I get over wanting my father to be proud of me. To make him a part of this and use it to try and push me into forgiving him is gross.
“Maybe you’d like to explain to him exactly why that won’t be happening, then. Don’t miss anything out. He’ll need all the sordid details. Number of thrusts, etcetera.”
His face pales and he looks like he’s been sick in his mouth. I smirk internally. He’s more in love with my father than he ever was with me. The idea of losing that professional respect from his greatest role model is what’s got him showing up here with a pathetic excuse for a grovel.
“How did you get here? Cab?”
“Yeah.” He frowns, his eyes volleying between me and all the bags stuffed with his shit like he’s realizing I’m not going to be the pushover he anticipated.
“Well, you’ll need to get another to fit it all in. I’ll help you take some stuff down to the street.” I smile brightly, my tone somewhere between helpful and scathing.
Callum looks at me, lost for words, and I glow inside with warm strength.
“You, um… need more time; I can see that. I thought your trip was long enough to get over this, but clearly you aren’t ready to discuss this like adults as I hoped.”
My fake smile thins at his dig. I’m behaving very adult-y here. I could have tossed his shit out of the window into the street below and let him pick up his underwear while the other occupants of our building watched. Or I could have put it all in the dumpster like I did with the mattress from the master bedroom the second I returned home.
“Where did you and Mel go?” he asks, eyeing the bags uneasily and stalling for time.
“Somewhere really beautiful.”
“Did you meet anyone there? Make any friends?”
