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They look at me with questions in their eyes, but I’ve shut them down so often, they don’t seem to want to ask. I can’t blame them.
Finally, Weston asks, “Callum, you’d tell us if there was something we could do to make things better, right?”
Petra looks on the verge of tears.
I clear my throat. “Yes, I would. I promise you, there is nothing you’re doing that’s bothering me. I just need to go see my mom and dad for a while and maybe get my head on straight. I have a lot on my mind. Some of it is good and some of it is kind of difficult.”
Petra stands and wraps her arms around me, squeezing in as closely as she can. “Callum, you are so precious to us. If you’re struggling with something, we need to know. Maybe we can help in some way you haven’t thought of.”
I take a deep breath and say, “I’m off this weekend, so we can talk then, okay? I just don’t have a lot of things figured out right now.”
Weston furrows his brow and looks deeply into my eyes. Those soulful brown eyes of his are penetrating, and I get the feeling he sees right through me sometimes. But all he says is, “Drive carefully. It’s supposed to rain tonight.” And then he adds, “We’ll miss you until you get back.”
“Look, I’m only going to be gone for the evening. It’s not like I’m getting deployed or anything.” I try for a choked laugh at my dumb joke, but the idea that I’m leading them to think I’ll always be around seems false to my own ears. Before I can make things worse, I’m out the door.
I’m a horrible boyfriend.
On the drive to work, I try to conjure up how I used to see Petra and Weston together and how jealous it made me before we started our relationship. I try to tell myself that they are the ones who are really in love with each other. They won’t be too upset if I go away. I’ll be the only one who’d be devastated.
Keep telling yourself that, asshole. You’re a big, fat liar. You heard them this morning.
It turnsout my parents aren’t as much help as I’d hoped. I spill the whole scenario out to them, and they are initially happy for me. But when I add the part about actually leaving Petra and Weston, they look at me with concern.
We talk in circles for hours, and my mom says, “It’s your life, Callum. We’ll support your decision and love you unconditionally. But no one can make up your mind but you.”
My dad adds, “Just weigh the pros and cons and figure out what decision you can live with and have the fewest regrets.”
So much for parental advice. I guess they think they’ve raised me to be an actual adult who can make his own choices.
By the time I get back to Weston’s house, it’s after one in the morning. The house is dark and quiet, and everyone is apparently sound asleep. I start to go to bed in my own room, but just as I finish undressing, there is a quiet knock on my door. When I open it, I see Petra standing naked in the hallway, with her glorious hair all messed up around her face and shoulders, and sadness in her eyes.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up,” I tell her softly.
She reaches for my hand and says, “I can’t sleep without you. Come on.” Without another word, she leads me to Weston’s bedand gestures for me to climb in. As soon as I do, Weston’s arm snakes around my waist, and he kisses my shoulder. Petra slides in on my other side, pressing her warm little body up to mine.
What am I doing?
Thirty-One
Weston
Whatever Callum’s issues are,I vow to myself to keep an open mind and treat this as though he were one of my clients. No judgment, no emotion, just listening. I can do that, right? I’m a trained professional. I don’t know how Petra is going to react, but… I also don’t know what Callum is about to tell us. He treated us to an extra special breakfast of eggs Benedict as if he’s trying to make us receptive to what he has to say, or maybe he was just stalling. I don’t know. He’s just been quiet all morning. That’s so unlike our Callum.
Once we’re done eating and complimenting him on his wonderful cooking once again, we clean up the dishes, then each take a mug of coffee and sit back down at the breakfast table. My stomach is in knots—despite the great breakfast—so I’m trying to stay calm. I have a sneaking suspicion I know what is coming now, but I’ll wait and see.
Callum takes a sip of coffee and looks at Petra. I can see love in his expression. Then he shifts his gaze to me, and the same warmth emanates from his dazzling hazel eyes. I reach acrossthe table for his hand. He puts down his mug and extends both hands, taking mine as well as Petra’s. His smile is a sad one, though, and I feel a coldness creep into me.
Fear.
“I love both of you. Don’t ever doubt that,” he begins.
I sense a “but” coming a mile away.
“But,” (there it is) “I have to tell you about something that I’ve been considering for a while and need to make a decision about pretty soon.”
Petra grabs my free hand. She doesn’t say a word, but I can feel her trembling.
Callum continues, “Petra, I know you’ve been dealing with a lot, and I don’t want to add to your discomfort in any way. But I’ve had an offer to help start up a café and cooking school from a woman I know.”
