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CHAPTER 4
Callie
“I love your new van, Katie,” I say while moving my hand along the sleek leather door panel. It really is nice and perfect for her. It’s top of the line and brand new. The smell of leather still permeates the air when you sit inside. I’m sitting in the back with Mitch—he’s less than impressed. Of course, he’s a man, and I think it’s a testosterone law or something that men fail to appreciate the practicality and magnificence of a van. If I hadn’t lost my Ryan, I would have bought a van, too. I mean, it wouldn’t have been brand new or as nice as this one, but still, it would have been a van so that Ryan could have had all the room he needed when I chauffeured him to soccer games and slumber parties… maybe baseball. I bet Ryan would have loved baseball. I would have had to work concession….
My hand moves to my stomach as a wave of sadness hits me that’s so profound, I have to concentrate to hold back my tears. I don’t want to cry. Tonight, is the first night Mitch has agreed to go out in months. The fact he’s going out with Katie and Jeff is significant. We haven’t had a double date in forever. I’m really excited.
“Thanks. I was nervous about getting it, but Jeff wouldn’t hush. He doesn’t like the fact that Lennon and I travel in my little Toyota.”
“The damn thing is a sardine can already. If you were to wreck in that, Katie, there wouldn’t be anything left,” Jeff speaks up.
My gaze goes to him, and his hand tightens up on the steering wheel, his knuckles going white. I keep watching as Katie’s hand slides over his and she pats him. He turns to look at her and gives her a tight smile. She beams at him. She loves Jeff. It’s different from how she felt about Jake, but she does love him. I look at Mitch. I don’t know if I’ll ever get there with Mitch, and I feel guilty for that. Still, we’re married, and I want to make it work. My father told me not to get married. He said I wasn’t smart enough to get married, that I had no idea what marriage was about. I’ve tried to prove him wrong—I’ve tried really hard. The problem is that the harder I try, the more it seems to prove him right.
I’m a screw up—even when I don’t mean to be.
“Still, it’s an awesome ride,” I murmur, trying to pull Jeff’s thoughts away from his father—who died in an auto accident. I know that’s what he’s thinking of because Katie confided that was why he wanted to her to get a bigger vehicle. I’m actually shocked he didn’t insist she buy a tank.
“You’ll have to ignore Callie. All she does is work. She doesn’t get out much, so apparently, cars are foreign to her,” Mitch laughs.
I close my eyes. He sounds like he’s joking, but I know that tone. I’ve upset him. When I look up at him, the feeling is enforced. He’s definitely irritated. The urge to defend myself is there, but I tamp it down. I don’t want to attract his anger and ruin a chance to have a great night out with friends.
“She works hard,” Katie says, her voice tight. I know she wants to say more to Mitch because she always does. She doesn’t like him, and the feeling is mostly mutual. I think they mostly put up with one another because of me.
“Jeff? How far are we from the club?” I question, wanting to steer the conversation away from me and work. Kate knows how Mitch makes me feel sometimes and I want to avoid a fight. I need tonight to be fun. I’m even hoping that some of the bridges between Reed and Mitch can be mended. I don’t know if it’s possible, but I’m praying just the same.
“Callie, I’m sure Jeff and Katie get enough of a kid in the back asking if they are there yet. They don’t need you doing it, too,” Mitch mutters, taking a drink of his water. I’m thankful the interior of the car is mostly dark because I don’t want the others to see me blushing.
“Jeff, pull over at that gas station up ahead. I need to go to the bathroom,” Katie growls. She’s pissed. I know it. Heck, we all know it. You can feel the atmosphere in the van. I close my eyes. I’ve done it again. I always manage to irritate Mitch. I can’t just be normal. I always get chatty and try to force conversation so that no one feels awkward, and it never fails to upset him.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, mostly to myself. I don’t even think I say it loud enough for anyone else to hear.
