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“I read War and Peace!” I tell them. “I’m the only person that ever did, I think. I was stuck at this cabin and it was the only book on the shelf.“
“I think The Stand might be my longest,” Riona muses. “Unabridged version, obviously.”
“You read Stephen King?” I ask her in astonishment.
“I’ve read every one,” Riona says. “Up until the most recent one, because I haven’t had time—”
“She was so scared of It,” Callum interrupts. “She’s still terrified of clowns.”
“I’m not scared of them,” Riona says loftily. “I just don’t like them. There’s a difference . . .”
“Do you want more wine?” Cal asks me, holding up the bottle.
I nod, and he refills my glass.
When he sets the bottle down, he drops his hand down to my lap. He finds my hand—the one not in a cast—and intertwines his fingers with mine.
His hand is warm and strong, squeezing just the right amount. His thumb gently strokes mine, then goes still again.
Cal and I have fucked plenty of times. We kiss, too. But this is the first time we’ve ever held hands. He’s not doing it for show because we’re at an event. And he’s not grabbing me to pull me close. He’s holding my hand because he wants to.
Our relationship has proceeded in such a funny, backward way. Marriage first. Then sex. Then getting to know each other. And finally . . . whatever this is. A feeling of warmth and desire and affection and connection spreads through my chest, a feeling that burns and grows stronger by the moment, especially when I glance over at the man sitting next to me.
I can’t believe it.
I think I’m falling in love.
24
Callum
I’m sitting at the table, surrounded by my family, basking in the glow of victory. My parents look happier and more proud than I’ve ever seen them before. My sisters are in good spirits, laughing and joking about some guy who’s been chasing after Nessa.
It’s a scene I’ve been working toward for months.
And yet, I find myself tuning out of the conversation because I want to look at Aida instead.
I can’t believe she stayed at Zajac’s warehouse, looking for me.
She could have been killed, or at the very least, recaptured and held hostage until her brothers returned the money they stole.
She could have just run the moment she escaped the office. But she didn’t. Because she knew I was somewhere in the building, probably being tortured, possibly being killed.
That would have been an easy way for her to get out of our marriage contract.
But I don’t think she wants to get out of it anymore.
Or at least, not as much as before.
I know I don’t want to lose her.
I’ve come to respect Aida, and like her, too. I like the effect she has on me. She makes me more reckless, but also more focused. Before I met her, I was going through the motions. Doing what I was supposed to without really caring.
Now I want to achieve all the same things, but I want it so much more. Because I want to do it with Aida by my side, bringing life to the whole enterprise.
I take Aida’s hand and hold it, gently running my thumb over hers. She looks up, surprised, but not annoyed. She smiles up at me, squeezing my hand in return.
Then her phone buzzes and she sneaks it out of her bag to read the message. She’s looking at it under the table, so I can’t see the screen. But I notice the immediate change in her expression—how she sucks in a little breath of excitement, her cheeks flushing with color.
