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I watch his hand trail up my arm from my wrist to my shoulder, slowly. He takes his finger, tucks it inside the collar of his oversized shirt I’ve got on, and traces the hem over my collarbone, over my chest and to my other shoulder. I hear him suck in a deep breath, his eyes also watching his hand. This feels wrong. Or at least that’s what I’m telling myself, because itshouldfeel wrong. But it really doesn’t. Want grows inside of me and my core starts to ache. I’m so wet, But before I can let the feeling settle deep enough, he removes his touch and turns me back around. He grabs my hips firmly. My back is now flush to his chest, my ass pressing against his cock. He lowers his mouth to my ear.
“I’ll pick you up tonight at seven sharp. Don’t keep me waiting. And I want you in the dress I picked out for you,” he whispers warmly, and it takes everything in me not to buckle my knees. I almost forgot about the auction gala tonight but I’m grateful for an excuse to see him again later.
He reaches over my shoulder to press the button that summons the elevator, then breaks the space between us. I step inside the elevator when the doors open and only turn around once they’ve closed. I let out a shaky breath. I need to get home and take a cold shower. Callan David is my new favorite high.
fourteen
Callan
It’sbeentwohourssince she left, and I still can’t get her out of my head. I tried slamming weights at the gym, went for a three-mile run and I even smoked a cigar. I tried to relax by watching some TV but as I was flipping through the channelsThe Breakfast Clubwas airing – her favorite movie. So, it’s safe to say that thoughts of Sterling prevail.
“Fuck her.”Jax’s words echoed in my head when I lowered my face to hers this morning. I wanted more than anything totasteher. After seeing her in my bed, everything felt heightened. The only thing I could think about was, if I crossed into that territory, I would ruin her.I would love to ruin her.It was such a bad idea to bring her back to my place.
She smelled like warm vanilla with a hint of cinnamon liquor when I picked her up last night. That scent still lingers on my sheets, and I can’t help myself from breathing it in deeply as I make the bed. I spend ten minutes cleaning the burnt bacon pan and finally feel a sense of ease looking around at a clean home.
I take a quick shower before getting ready for the gala tonight. There are still a few hours left before I have to leave to pick up Sterling, which is motivation enough to look my sharpest. I make it fast, wanting not to repeat the actions of the shower I took in LA. Once I’m clean, I jump out and wrap a towel around my waist. Before I can even get dressed, my phone rings.
“Hello, son,” my dad answers as soon as I pick up, as if I was the one who called him.
“Hello, Father.” I roll my eyes.
“I’m calling a family meeting,” he says behind a tired tone.
“Is this about the dinner Mom wanted us to have? Sterling is unavailable.” I remember that my parents wanted to have dinner and had invited Sterling. I knew I wasn’t going to go through with it because there was absolutely no reason to, but I sort of forgot to touch base with them.
“No, this is different.”
“Then what is this about?” I groan out of annoyance. The last thing I want to do today is have a stupid, pointless, family meeting.
“Can you be here in an hour?” He avoids my question by asking his own.
“Umm, I suppose. But I have the gala tonight, and I need to pick up my assistant beforehand,” I explain as I head into my closet and pick out the suit I’ll be wearing tonight. I land on a light gray suit with a red silk tie. It’ll humbly match Sterling’s dress but confidently announce that I’m the boss.
“I start chemo soon and it’s important we discuss what’s next. When I die, I want to ensure your mom and Virginia aren’t left to pick up the pieces.” My dad’s words slice like a knife.When I die.I wasn’t expecting him to say those words, ever. Even though it’s inevitable. And he makes it seem like it’s a birthday party.
“Yeah, I think I can make it,” I respond, and the line clicks dead. Typical.
I finish getting ready, slick my hair back and brush my teeth. I wasn’t planning to show up to a family meeting about cancer and death in a suit and tie, but here we are.
I pull into the David estate a few minutes before five. I’m already worried I’m going to be late picking up Sterling.
My family home is fairly big. And I sayfairlylightly. It sits on about forty acres of land and is fully landscaped with twin fountains in the front, beautifully stone-paved driveway. Bushes shaped into different, ridiculous things. There’s a tennis court and pool in the back. A separate sunroom and guest house. It’s three stories high and houses about eight bedrooms.
Now, who needs a house this big, right? Well, that’s the logic that’s missing when it comes to my father. The bigger, the better. It’s a luxury he has the means to carry out and it’s my family home regardless. But the memories inside are what really matter, the people even. And not every memory is a happy one.
I step inside and hear everyone chatting ominously in the family great room. I smooth my suit jacket down, trying to calm my nerves, and take a deep breath before joining.
“Nice of you to join us, Callan,” my dad announces as I turn the corner. He acts like I wasn’t going to come, when I literally just told him I would be here.
I walk to my mom first, and lean down to kiss her on the forehead, before I take my seat across from Ginny, whose hands are laced nervously in her lap. Everyone is quiet. The air is thick with tension. I scoot my chair in and pray that this will end peacefully.
“I hate to rush things, but as you all know, tonight is the annual auction gala, and the first I will be attending as the owner of the dealership. So, let’s get right into it.” I feel a twinge of guilt, being so stone-cold about the situation, but someone has to take charge here.
“Callan, your father and I have been laying out plans for you and your sister for...what comes next,” my mother starts, clearly doing everything to avoid the word ‘death’ altogether. “Obviously, your dad is sick, and the cancer is only getting worse.”
Virginia bows her head a tad trying to hide the tears rolling down her cheeks. Of course, she’s sad, she’s always been close with our dad. I, however, have not.
It’s like the dad who raised Ginny was a completely different man than the one who raised me. With her, he’s always been involved, compassionate and sometimes even seemed desperate for her approval. If someone would’ve used those words to describe him during my adolescence, I would’ve laughed in their face. With me, it was all tough love and critical analysis of my every move, usually to his disapproval. I can’t blame her for being sad, but I also can’t blame myself for feeling numb at the thought of him being gone.
