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“I'm already doing my best.” He looks from one of us to the other with his brows drawn together. “Wait a minute. Are you saying what I think you're saying?”
“What do you think I'm saying?”
“It sounds a lot like you're telling me you're engaged.” There's no hint of how he feels about it, though I guess in the end it doesn't matter. Or it shouldn't. I need to get better at ignoring what other people think. Maybe I'll learn to breathe underwater while I'm at it, since the idea seems about as possible.
“We're trying to keep it quiet for now,” Callum explains while beaming from ear to ear. “But yes. Bianca agreed to a lifetime of being driven crazy by me.”
“Congratulations. Sincerely.” Romero offers me a genuine smile before shaking Callum's hand. “We could use all the good news possible. Do you have any idea when the wedding will be?”
“When what will be?”
No. Not like this. Not while Tatum stands open mouthed in the entry hall, so surprised she drops her muffin on the floor. All she was doing was getting breakfast, and now she has to deal with this.
“Tell me I'm imagining this. Last I knew you just got together, now there's a baby, and you're getting married?” I never thought my own best friend could look at me with so much anger and even disgust. We might as well be strangers.
Before I can come up with anything to say, Callum lets go of my hand and gestures for Tatum with a crooked finger. “In my office. Now. We have a few things we need to discuss.” All I can do is watch with a sinking heart while she marches off behind him, fists clenched like she's ready to fight.
“So much for trying to ease her into the idea,” I whisper, and all Romero can do is frown. Maybe he feels sorry for all of us.
CALLUM
“It’s time we talk about this, and you’re not going to shut me out anymore.” I gesture for Tatum to enter my office, which she does before I follow her and close the door. I don’t know whether or not Bianca followed us. She’s perceptive enough to know this needs to be a one-on-one discussion.
“Oh wow, now you want to talk to me about the happy day? All of a sudden, it matters what I want?” She barks out a laugh, crossing the room and standing at the window with her back to me. “You care what I think now?”
“It was never about not caring what you think.” I pause, and when she says nothing, I decide to take my life in my hands. “What do you think?”
That earns me a filthy look thrown over her shoulder. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I was in the middle of a fight with her mother. Somehow, she manages to project the same disdain. “You can't be asking me that question right now. It’s a little late either way.”
“Did you think this was all a joke? Bianca and me being together? We’re having a baby. What did you think was going to happen next?”
“I don't know what I thought.” She looks downright defensive when she wraps her arms around herself, and the way her chin juts out tells me this isn't going to be an easy, straight-line conversation.
“You thought this was some crazy, midlife crisis thing, didn't you?” When she looks at the floor, I know I'm right. “I hate to disappoint you, but this is the real deal. I know what I want. And I am so terribly sorry if it hurts you, sweetheart.”
“That's easy to say when you’re not on the receiving end.”
The amount of bitterness in her voice leaves me recoiling. “It's the truth.”
“Well, it does hurt.”
“Then let's talk about it, for God's sake. Do you know how long I've wanted to have an honest conversation with you about this?” She scoffs, turning her gaze toward the window again. I’d throw something through the fucking window if I thought it would help. Anything to break through this wall she built between us. It wasn’t always this way, but it’s not like I’ve done anything to improve it, especially not in the past couple of months.
I lean against the desk, shoving my hands into my pockets while I fight to find the right words. No matter what I say, it’ll be a mistake. There’s no way of getting through this without shedding blood, figuratively or otherwise. “Tatum, it's clear you're suffering. No amount of pretending you're fine will fix things. I don't want to hurt you, but I won’t know what does or doesn't hurt you if you don’t talk to me.”
“This hurts me,” she whispers, hunching her shoulders. “We grew up together. We’re the same age, and now you want to marry her?”
“She's having my baby, sweetheart.”
“I know, but that's one thing. I could live with that. These things happen, but deciding to get married? That's so much more. And I have to say, I really wish you would have come to me and let me know what you were thinking about before all of this.”
“To be fair, I didn't plan on asking her this soon. It sort of... happened.”
Her head tips to the side before she turns slowly and hits me with a very knowing look. The sort of look that cuts through me and might as well be delivered with a blade to flay my skin. “Dad. Nothing just sort of happens with you. You plan out every step. You deliberate over every choice. This isn't the kind of decision you make on the fly. Especially not a man like you.”
At first, all I can do is chuckle. “Sometimes I forget how perceptive you are. It's been just the two of us for so long.”
“Don't do that. Don't make it sound like we were the two musketeers or whatever. That's not how it was, and you can't rewrite history.”
