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For the first time in months I find myself feeling content. There are fifty people in this room, and the fact that they've come out on a sunny Friday afternoon to join in the celebration is heart warming. A shaft of sunlight breaks its way through the window; dust dancing in its spotlight. When it hits my face, spreading warmth across my skin, it makes me want to smile.
So I do.
Man, it feels good.
I look for Ellie, wanting to tell her about the weather in New York in September, hoping it will be enough to persuade her to visit. But when I glance across the room it isn’t my friend I see.
Callum steps into the bar, his shirtsleeves rolled up, and everything turns blank. My muscles stiffen in shock, and the champagne glass I was holding crashes onto the dark wooden floor.
31
The next few minutes are a blur. I’m in a stop-motion scene, standing still while everything around me is on speed. Somebody pushes me away from the broken glass while others fuss and sweep it up, and I think they’re trying to talk to me, but I can’t hear a word. The buzzing reaches a crescendo, and it’s only later that I realise it’s the rush of blood through my ears.
When Callum walks towards me he’s the only thing I can focus on. I see him in high definition, noticing the dark hairs on his forearms, the light tan he’s managed to get on his skin. His sleeves are crumpled where he’s pushed them up, though the rest of his shirt is crisply ironed. A lump forms in my throat as I stare at his chest, remembering the way his body felt under my palms.
When my gaze reaches his face I feel my breath falter. He’s as glorious as ever, his dark red hair curling over his forehead, his eyes bright and sparkling despite the dark smudges beneath them. If anything, he looks even more beautiful than I remember. A shadow of beard growth darkens his jawline, and all I can think of is dragging my lips across it.
I shake my head at my inappropriate thoughts, wishing they’d leave as quickly as they arrived. Then he’s standing in front of me, and his presence is like a shot of heroin to my veins.
“What are you doing here?” I whisper, my breath still short from his proximity.
“I came to congratulate you.”
Frowning, I take a step back. His closeness is too intoxicating. I need space to think, to get some clarity.
“A card would have done.” I don’t know if I’m joking or being petulant.
“Can we talk?” he asks, looking around warily. For the first time the crowd comes into focus, and I realise everyone is staring at us. Lara has an arm around Alex’s waist, successfully stopping him from coming over, but I can tell it’s only a matter of time.
“Here?”
Callum shakes his head. “It’s a beautiful day outside, we could go for a walk, or find a café somewhere.” He’s still staring, and I can’t decide if it’s pissing me off or making me happy.
“Okay.”
A few minutes later we’re walking beside the river, our bodies dwarfed by the imposing warehouses that line the waterway. In spite of the blue skies and the warm sun, the shadows the buildings cast are enough to chill the air.
“Are you cold?” Callum asks. Not waiting for an answer, he drapes his suit jacket across my shoulders, his hands lingering for a moment before letting go. Even though there’s thick fabric between his palms and my bare skin, it makes me shiver.
We’re silent for a while, and the sounds of the river fill the emptiness. Distant engines hum, water crashes against the wooden piers, and the occasional shout of a river man cuts through the quiet. We’re off the beaten track, in the less glamorous part of London, and besides the boatmen, the only people we see are workers having a crafty smoke outside their offices.
“How’ve you been?” Callum finally asks. His question is enough to bring me to a halt. He takes another step and then, realising I’ve stopped, whips around, his brow wrinkled.
“I’ve been shit,” I say honestly. I’m not going to gild the lily; if he wants the truth I’ve got it in spades. “Somebody told me they loved me then two days later he disappeared off the face of the earth.”
There’s anger in my voice neither of us expected. Callum reaches out, trying to touch me, but I move back, dodging his hand.
“Don’t touch me,” I warn. He bites his bottom lip, his torso rising in a slow breath.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I know it’s been shit. It really has.”
“I tried to call you, I tried to message you, but you wouldn’t answer.” I don’t mention the emails. The less said about those, the better.
“I couldn’t,” he whispers. “I wanted to talk to you, I wanted to see you, but I couldn’t.”
“Bullshit.” The ache in my chest that’s been my constant companion for months has disappeared. It’s as if someone has unlocked my ribcage, letting all the emotions out. I want to shout at him, to scream how much he hurt me, to tell him what hell he unleashed when he ran away.
I want to tell him I still love him.
