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“Here we go.” Leah returned with a washer and wiped the paint off Billy’s hands, then helped him paintTo Daddy, love from Billyon the outer edge of the plate. Callum knew he should really get up and get to work, get on with the jobs his dad had given him. But he didn’t want to. Watching Leah with Billy, where she was much more confident and at ease, was very sweet. It was clear that Billy absolutely adored her and that the feeling was mutual. Once the plate was finished, Leah helped Billy take it to Juniper for glazing and baking.
She came back to the table on her own, Billy having run off to “help” William with his woodwork. “Well, that’ll be a nice surprise for William,” she said, pulling her stool under the work bench and reaching for the vase she’d got halfway through painting. It was apparent that she’d hastily put it aside to help Billy with his own artwork.
“Yeah, it’ll be cute.”
She glanced at him, holding his gaze for moments longer than she usually did. They were definitely getting better. She looked away, picking up her thin paint brush and bending over her work. “So, how’s Bluebell?”
“She’s good. Being babysat by Mum today.”
“Poor Harry,” Leah joked, referring to Nora’s little Scottish terrier.
“Yeah.”
Her dark hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, exposing the nape of her neck, pale and delicate. Callum felt an almost overwhelming urge to lean in and press a soft kiss. Right there. He swallowed, shifting restlessly on the stool. She glanced at him again, her eyes wide. He clamped down on the feeling of wanting to kiss her, always afraid that he might overwhelm her. She smiled and his heart contracted hard in his chest. She was achingly lovely, caught in the soft fall of sunshine from the skylight high above her, her gray green eyes sparkling. With his expression carefully neutral, trying to hide the storm of emotions she roused in him, Callum pushed to his feet. “I’d better get to work. See you later.”
“Seeya.”
A few hours later, Callum stood with John on the mezzanine level of the repurposed stables. William had approved the new window frames and they’d spent the morning installing them. It wasn’t the worst job in the world, Callum thought. The old stables looked great, the perfect setting for art shows and functions for William and Juniper’s artist colony. The mezzanine level provided the ideal gallery space. The end of the stables faced east and with the picture window they’d just installed there, it allowed plenty of light. Additionally, it framed the little cottage and lighthouse wonderfully, with the vibrant blue of the Tasman Sea forming a lovely backdrop on this bright, spring day.
As Callum was wiping down the newly installed window, movement down below caught his eye. Leah, one arm folded across her middle, her phone pressed to her ear, walked across the gravel carpark to the low wall that lined the clifftop. Callum frowned. She looked tense; he could sense it even from up on the second floor of the stables. Sitting down on the rock wall, she reached up and pulled her ponytail out, twisting her hair in her hand as she faced the ocean, her shoulders hunched. He turned away, wanting to give her privacy.
Ten minutes later, he was downstairs, taking his tool kit to the truck and saw that Leah was still sitting on the wall, talking on her phone in a low voice. He stashed his toolkit and stood by his truck for a long moment, uncertain. Tension was rolling off her in waves. Something was definitely wrong.
She hung up, dropped her phone on the wall and with her elbows on her knees, bent forward, pushing her fingers into her hair, almost pulling on it. Callum took a few steps towards her. “Leah?” She didn’t answer. He wondered if he should go and get Juniper.
She bolted to her feet, walking away from him, perilously close to the cliff’s edge. He rounded the stone wall, moving towards her, ready to grab her if she stumbled. Then she spun back to him and he froze, mid stride. Her expression was one of acute anguish. “Why does he get everything? EVERYTHING!” She turned away again, pressing a fist to her lips, her breath shuddering in and out as she fought for control. She took another step and since she was less than a foot away from the edge of a twenty-foot drop, Callum didn’t hesitate. He closed the distance between them, wrapping his fingers around her arm, just above the elbow, and pulling her back, away from the edge.
“Leah. Sweetheart.”
She looked up at him then, the stricken look in her eyes piercing him to the bone. “I…I can’t.” Her eyes welled with tears. “Another baby. God.” She gave a choking sob and he pulled her into his arms, felt her grab his shirt front in her firsts. “Why did he do that?” She whispered.
“I don’t know,” he replied in a low voice.
“It was the one thing I wanted.” She broke then. Just fell apart. He held her while she cried. Great, wracking sobs that tore at his heart. Once the crying had subsided a little, she said, “I’m sorry,” but she didn’t move out of the circle of his arms.
“Don’t apologize,” he said gently, running his hand up and down her back. He pulled her to the wall, kept his arm around her when they sat down. He just wanted to hold her forever. Ease her pain.
“I don’t know why it matters. What difference does it make? One kid, two, a dozen?” She wiped at her face. “But my mother is so happy for him. Oh, Leah, darling. Did you hear about Scott and Kikki? Baby number two, and with their first not even two years old. Right, that would be the baby he made with her while he was still fucking married to me.” Her tone was laced with bitter hurt. “As if that wasn’t bad enough, three years of fertility treatment and he tells me it’s my fault we can’t conceive. Andhowdoes he know this? Because his magic fucking testicles have knocked up his side piece.” She twisted her hands together in her lap. “So it’s me.” Her eyes brimmed with tears again. “It’s me,” she said softly, covering her face with her hands.
Not knowing what else to do, Callum pulled her against him, stroking her hair. She rested against him for a short while, but then she pulled away, wiping at her eyes, trying to pull herself together. “God, sorry.”
“You don’t need to be sorry.”
“I thought I was going pretty well. That I’d shed all the tears. But this hit me. Hard.”
“Makes sense.”
She drew a deep, cleansing breath. “Maybe.”
It did make sense. So much sense. She was so sweet and shy and gentle. The idea that someone had been so unbearably cruel to her made his blood boil.
She took another breath. “Sorry.”
“Okay, you gotta stop saying sorry.”
She smiled at that. “Okay. I’ll say thank you instead, then.”
“No problem.”
