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“It was the only way you could keep your job,” he says. “Please let me explain, Amy.”
“You think I cared about my job?” I laugh, but there’s no amusement. “You really think I gave a shit about Richards and Morgan? If you’d have asked me to live with you in a hovel I’d have said yes. I didn’t give a damn about my job, I just wanted you.”
“That’s what you say now,” he replies, running a hand through his thick hair. “But after a while you’d have resented me. You’d have realised that you gave up a job and a degree for nothing.”
“I would have had you,” I tell him.
“I’m not enough.”
The expression on his face is twisted, as if he’s experiencing physical pain. For the first time I realise that he’s being going through the same thing as me, and the aching void of our separation wasn’t only mine to bear.
He’s hurt as much as I am.
“What do you mean you’re not enough?” I ask softly. “You were everything.”
The corner of his lip twitches. “I couldn’t ask you to sacrifice your dreams, not again…”
His voice trails off and suddenly I’m back at his house, comforting him after a bad nightmare. I’m remembering the way he asked his wife to move to Edinburgh, and how the move slowly tore them apart.
“I’m not Jane,” I tell him.
“Don’t you think I can see that?” he asks, his voice harsh. “But I also know how hard you’ve worked for all you’ve achieved. How you’ve fought your way through your degree, how you came to Richards and Morgan even though you knew there were people who’d look down on you. I couldn’t let you give all that up.”
I blink back tears. “Instead you gave up on me.”
He shakes his head slowly. “I never gave up on you, not for a single minute. I’ve spent the last two months thinking of nothing but you. Calling Jonathan at all times of the day just to make sure you were okay. Asking Charlie to do stupid things like buy you a coffee to leave on your desk so you wouldn’t feel so alone.”
“That was Charlie?”
“Did you really believe I’d have left if I didn’t care?”
There’s a sweetness in his words that turns my insides to liquid. “So appearing on graduation day is all part of the plan?”
Callum smiles. “I meant to arrive for the actual ceremony, but my flight was delayed.” He looks down at the pavement. “I’ve spent the last five hours asking every stranger I met—every air steward and pilot and taxi driver—to hurry the hell up.”
I open my mouth but there are no words. I want to explain the conflict that’s raging in my mind, that the need to touch him is as strong as the need to slap him. I want to hate him, but there’s no room for hatred when I’m so full of love.
“What do you want from me?” I ask.
“I want whatever you’re willing to give me. I want to be your friend. I want to be the best bloody friend you’ll ever have.”
My heart drops. A friend?
“Don’t look like that,” he cajoles, reaching to me. “You think I don’t want more? I’ve dreamed about you for the last two months.”
“Then why do you want to only be my friend?”
“Because I have no right to ask for more.”
“You have no right not to.” I stare at him defiantly. “What happened to the man who shoved me up against the wal
l, the one who stole my kisses as if they were his dying breath?”
“Amy,” he warns. “Don’t tempt me.”
My smile is a challenge. He glances at my lips, his glorious eyes narrowing. When his mouth falls open, a shallow sigh escaping, I feel as though I’ve already won.
He pulls me towards him and presses my body to his. As he tips my head back, his jacket slides off my shoulders, falling onto the concrete ground.
