Page 50 of Keepsakes and Kismet

But for now, I just smile at Romy. “Yeah. It wasn’t so bad.”

And when she starts typing on her computer, distracted, I take a long look at our wall clock, counting down the hours until I can spend more time with Callum.

* * *

When I arrive at Solid Grounds ten minutes early, Callum’s already sitting at a table near the front window, reading a book.

He’s in his work uniform, once again, and a little thrill rushes through me. I should find my newfound attraction to khakis and polos concerning, but I know it’s not the outfit—it’s him.

A sense of anticipation floods my stomach as I wonder when we’ll hold hands. Should I walk up to him and try to grab his hand? Should I wait for him to initiate it? I don’t think I’d punch him again, if he did touch me, but it’s hard to know for sure.

Callum looks up from his book, and his eyes find me immediately. The neutral expression on his face swiftly softens into a smile. I love the way he looks at me, like just my presence alone increases his happiness by ten percent.

He closes his book and stands when I reach his table.

“Hey, Pey,” he says softly.

“Hey, Inspector,” I say back.

His eyes glint at the moniker. “You want some coffee? Tea? Hot chocolate? My treat.”

His treat. Is his offer to pay a romantic gesture? All we’ve done is hold hands, and I suppose anyone can hold hands. Families hold hands. Church members hold hands. Otters hold… dear God. I need to get a hold of my thoughts.

“Hot chocolate sounds great. I feel like the weather calls for it today.” I take off my wool coat and drape it over the chair across from his.

He nods. “Be right back.”

While Callum gets hot chocolate, I appreciate the decor in the cafe. A small porcelain vase with eucalyptus leaves sits on each table, and bright orange pumpkins decorate the large chalkboard menu on the wall behind the coffee bar. There’s no line, but Peg, the owner, has been keeping Callum at the register, chatting his ear off, while her barista makes his order.

Five minutes later, he returns with two hot chocolates. “Peg asked if I wanted extra marshmallows, and I said yes. I hope that’s okay.”

I hold out my hands in a “gimme” motion. “It’s always a yes for me on extra marshmallows.”

He hands me the hot chocolate. “Noted.”

When I take it from him, our fingers brush, and he swiftly pulls his hand back.

“I’m so sorry.” Panic grabs his expression, and he drops in his chair, scooting it back. He searches my face, probably thinking that I’ll bolt or vomit. Or punch him again. But I didn’t feel sick when his skin grazed mine. I felt eager.

So, I make the executive decision to reach across the table and gently pick up his hand. As soon as I touch him, something in me calms, and when he sighs in relief, I think he feels it, too.

His gaze pins me in place. “Pey. Can I…? I want your fingers between mine. To hold your hand like that. If that’s okay. If you want that, too.”

My heart flutters over his respect for my boundaries. But more than that, I’m so happy he’s not shying away from being the one to initiate. My fear going into this—trusting a man again—was that they’d be passive once they knew about my aversion. Like they’d lose the confidence to ask for what they wanted. I want a man who listens and pursues. Not one that treats me like I’m easily breakable.

I nod. “I want you to hold my hand like that, and… Thanks for asking me.”

He flexes his fingers before settling them between mine. At his touch, I feel borderline giddy.

We sit for a few moments, drinking our hot chocolates with one hand so we don’t have to break contact. I bask in the cozy silence—just being here with him. No expectations, no pressure to perform.

His eyes wander to the autumn display near the window. “I was here for a party last month and was shocked at how different it is from when I was growing up.”

“You… were at a party?” I tease.

“Ha ha. Sometimes I venture out, when the situation calls for it.” His eyes lock onto mine. “Or when I feel passionate enough about something.”

I can only guess the shade of pink my cheeks are most certainly turning as I wonder how passionately he feels about being here with me.