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“I’ll reach out,” Callum said briefly, flipping his steak. “I think it’ll work out.”
Maybe he still did, but the doubts were starting to creep in. I could tell by the rigid set of his shoulders. The way his jaw muscles couldn’t quite relax. I changed the subject to Joanne’s birthday party.
“I was right,” I said as I stirred my quinoa, making sure none of it burnt to the bottom of Callum’s extremely expensive pans. “Jimmy’s is happy to host. It was pretty sweet how excited he got.”
“Great,” Callum said. I could tell he wasn’t entirely listening, that he was an autopilot now, but I kept going.
It had hurt my whole chest to see how empty Jimmy’s place was. There were still six pool tables, but only two were in use when Renee and I went by. There was a smattering of people at the bar, but that nice, big stage was empty. I couldn’t wait to see mic stands, amps, and Joanne’s drums.
“Jevon is helping me coordinate with the other local bands. And of course we’re going to invite the whole neighborhood.”
“The whole neighborhood isn’t going to fit in Jimmy’s.”
I rolled my eyes. He always took things so literally. “Most of the neighborhood will fit. He’s got that nice back deck, too. Besides, not everyone will come.” I mixed the quinoa with the rest of the ingredients, then put a dollop of hummus on top. I smiled at it, pleased. It had been a while since I bothered to cook for myself. Back in LA, life was so busy. When I was on the road, I made do with a hot plate and a microwave. And then there was Jason, always laser focused on whether or not his artists could fit in the sample sizes designers sent over. Always quick to say something if one of us didn’t.
It felt like an act of rebellion to make this huge bowl and not count the calories I put in it. I didn’t even mind when Noah gravitated toward the steak, just like Callum said he would. I relished every bite and convinced Callum to take us out for ice cream afterward.
“I’m glad your appetite is back,” he said, watching me destroy a hot fudge sundae, amusement lightening his green eyes.
“You won’t be after I eat you out of house and home,” I warned. The hot fudge was unbearably sweet on my tongue, like I hadn’t had sugar in a long time. Maybe I hadn’t. I ate it anyway because it tasted like a satisfaction I’d forgotten. I set down my spoon when I’d scraped even the plastic clean and stretched my arms up over my head. “I should go grocery shopping tomorrow.”
Callum’s brows knit. I could tell he wanted to tell me that no, he would go, or we could have groceries delivered. I narrowed my eyes at him until he sighed. “You can take the Tesla.”
“It was either that or Keith Bowen’s motorcycle,” I agreed cheerfully. Then I leaned over and kissed his scowling mouth. I did it without thinking, but even before our lips broke contact, we were both whipping our heads around to stare at Noah.
Noah couldn’t have missed it, but he looked wholly unconcerned. He was kicking his feet and licking his spoon like he didn’t have a care in the world.
Callum and I glanced at each other, unsure of how to proceed. “Noah,” he started, then stalled out. It was the first time I’d seen him at a loss for words.
“What?” Noah asked. His big eyes were fixed on us now, waiting for someone to say something.
Callum looked at me, flummoxed.
I took over. “Noah, do you remember how you told me your friend’s teacher likes your dad?” When he nodded, I continued, “Well what if I told you thatIlike your dad? Would that be okay?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said cheerfully, as if I’d asked him if he wanted a second scoop. “That would be okay.”
“Great.” I sat back, feeling like I’d just successfully navigated the Bermuda Triangle. “Because I do.”
“I think he likes you too,” Noah said, and I laughed.
“I do,” Callum said quietly, more for my ears than Noah’s. “I really do.”
I leaned into him and felt warmth spread through my entire body. I really did too. So much it was starting to scare me.
CHAPTER 22
CALLUM
Ireached out to Jason that week, even though my instinct was to let sleeping dogs lie. I wasn’t the type to grab a stick and go poking through bushes for snakes, but this particular snake was treacherous. He had been quiet for a long time, but I didn’t think he’d forgotten about his golden goose.
He didn’t answer, but his personal assistant reached out a few hours later.
“Mr. Cain is in Thailand on business,” she told me.
“Oh yeah?” I said skeptically. I was standing at the floor to ceiling windows of my office in LA, watching the sun sink lower in the sky, and I could almost see the member’s only club where we’d gotten steaks. I looked in that direction, as if I might pick him out if I looked hard enough. Part of me didn’t believe he was in Thailand. It would be too good, and I didn’t trust things that were too good.
“Yes, he left two days ago.” She lowered her voice now. “It’s one of the talents. He’s gotten into some trouble.”
