Page 71 of 'Til All the Seas Run Dry

She puffed out a loud breath. “You do?”

Callum swallowed thickly. “The last sunrise I saw was when I was away from you, before?—”

“Shhhh,” she said, biting her lip. “It’s done.”

“It may be done, but I’ve never forgiven myself for it.”

“I have.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“But I have, Callum. I don’t want to be angry anymore. It won’t help me.”

He shook his head, looking at the soft carpet between his socked feet.

“Will you watch the sunrise with me, Callum?”

He looked back at his phone, the screen filled with Jory’s face. Her eyes were soft, glistening with what might have been tears, but might have been a trick of the light. But she sat up, the duvet sliding down her body to reveal a white tank top. Her dark hair was a wild halo around her, the waves tangled and mussed from sleep. She’d always been a chaotic sleeper. While he’d always slept like… the dead. He clenched his jaw at the thought.

“Unless you’re too tired. I know you’ve had a long night. And tonight is your big meeting. You need to rest. And I should get up anyway.”

“Wait,” he said, desperate to keep her on the phone.

Jory leaned back against the headboard, pulling the duvet up again and tucking it under her arms. She yawned, and Callum could practically hear her jaw crack.

“You are tired, mo cridhe,” he murmured, daring to call her that, the words always at the tip of his tongue. “Why are you up so early? The store doesnae open ’til ten.”

“How do you know that?” Jory asked with a smile.

“I looked it up. Ten to six, Monday to Friday, eleven to seven on Saturday. Closed on Sunday.”

“That’s right.”

“So then why did you wake up so early?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

He blinked at her.

“And now I want to watch the sunrise with you.”

Callum allowed himself to smile then, felt the creases at the corners of his eyes deepen. “Verra well,” he said, pressing the button on his phone that turned the camera to face forward again so that Jory could see the mounted screen on the wall.

It started with the sky turning a dark blue, but sliding toward a brilliant pink at the horizon. The rising light made the clouds look like orange and yellow cotton candy, which he’d never tried, but had seen many times when the clubs did a circus night.

Then the pink turned to yellow as the sky lightened, and the blazing glow of the sun climbed slowly over the horizon, casting a bright gleam on the bay. Jory was watching the sunrise, but he was watching the little frame in the corner, the one that showed her face. Watching the way those pinks and yellows and oranges reflected on the bronze of her skin, how they made her green eyes sparkle. How she smiled from time to time, sighing just as often.

“I love a sunrise,” she said.

It was on the tip of his tongue to say, “I love you.” But he stopped himself.

“Can I see you?” she asked, and after wiping the melancholy off his face, he flipped the camera again.

“What did you think?” Jory asked.

“Beautiful.”

“It was, wasn’t it? How did it compare to what you remembered.”