Callum nodded. Of course it had.
He knew exactly what that felt like. When his own injury had ended his Olympic dreams, it had taken him months—years, maybe—to recover. Not physically, but mentally.
Spending your whole life working toward something, only to have it ripped away… yeah. He understood that kind of loss. And he wanted to be there for her.
“Do you think she’ll be okay with seeing me?” he finally asked after minutes of silence, watching the coastline blur past the window.
“I suspect she’ll be more than okay,” Sofia said. “She’ll act indifferent at first—I know her like the back of my hand—but then she’ll warm up, and she’ll show you how happy she really is. She hasn’t forgotten you. She still mentions you. So, if you play your cards right… she’ll be yours.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“I mean… you already slept with her. You’re one step ahead of everyguy currently trying to flirt with her. Plus, she said it was—and I quote—the best sex of her life. So… toughen up, big boy,” Sofia said, patting his shoulder as she parked her Jeep in the lot, flashing her pass at the security.
She handed one to him, too.
As they approached the stalls with Salacia and Lamina’s logos, Elvira—Sofia’s business partner—greeted Callum with a very big smile.
“Not sure you remember me from the wedding. I heard you were busy with someone else,” Elvira introduced herself.
“Yeah…I do,” he knew he didn’t sound sure about it, but she was right. His attention had been snatched by Alejandra since the first moment he had set eyes on her.
“I don’t think so, but thanks for making me feel better,” she grinned.
Callum, slightly embarrassed, just nodded and followed Sofia to the Lamina stall, where two volunteers—a guy and a girl, probably in their early twenties—were already setting things up.
The vibe around the event village was relaxed, laid-back. It reminded him of Aberystwyth in the summer, and he was forever grateful to Sofia to be out of a tux for once.
As he lifted a few boxes from the back of the van, adjusting their weight against his chest, a woman approached the table set up near the entrance.
She was in her forties, bleach blonde hair pulled into a tight ponytail that stretched her already overworked features. Fake tan, even faker boobs straining against a white blouse that had seen better days. Her lips were glossy and overlined, her perfume strong enough to cut through the salty air. She had a familiar face he couldn’t quite place.
“I’m Jamie, nice to meet you. I don’t think I’ve seen you around here. I’m TerraVive’s agent,” she said, extending a hand deckedout in long acrylic nails and silver bracelets that jingled with every movement.
The sound grated on him.
“Uh… sorry, can’t shake it,” he replied, arms full of boxes as he shifted them higher against his chest.
“But you can tell me your name,” she insisted, batting her lashes in a way that was probably meant to be charming.
“Fuck off, Jamie.”
Sofia’s voice sliced through the air from behind him.
“Out of my fucking sight. Now.”
Jamie turned, startled, but recovered quickly. “Sofia! I didn’t know you had a new colleague.”
“He’s not. He’s a partner with Lamina, one of those you let down when you decided not to tell the truth about Thomas. And I told you, I don’t want to see you around. I was very clear.”
“She’s still bitter just because I vouched for Neptune,” Jamie muttered, rolling her eyes.
Neptune.
That was it.
Callum felt the memory click into place. The hearing. The trial. The empty promises. Jamie had sworn she wouldn’t defend Sofia’s ex, and then she had. He remembered the tension in the room. The way Ilias had gone rigid. The way someone had physically grabbed his arm to keep him from launching across the table.
Callum lowered the boxes slowly now.
