Callum went up the first few steps that led to their balcony and stopped once he could see them through the open door. They were dressed for the warm summer evening, Jamie in a T-shirt and shorts and Nerea in a pale blue sundress. It was one of Callum’s favorites that she’d bought years ago in Madrid. Both of them were laughing, easy and carefree. A bottle of wine, mostly empty, on the table between them may have accounted for some of that, but not all of it.
Callum loitered in the doorway, enjoying their happiness from afar until Jamie turned his head and noticed him. His face split into a grin that made Callum want to kiss his dimples. Nerea turned her head too. She smiled with a deep contentment when he stepped through the door and out onto the balcony.
He kissed them both hello, then scraped a third chair up to the wrought-iron table. “Not what I expected to come home to.”
“Callum thought we’d be fucking,” Nerea clarified, popping her consonants.
“We didn’t,” Jamie said.
“You could have,” Callum told him.
Jamie and Nerea sighed in almost perfect synchronicity.
“I know that,” Jamie said. “But I wanted to have a conversation with someone I don’t work with and who isn’t as young and inexperienced as me.”
“And you chose my wife?” Callum chuckled. Nerea was hardly an innocent bystander to the current state of Jamie’s life.
“It was your wife or my landlord.”
“We’ve had a very nice afternoon. And evening,” Nerea said. “And if I don’t eat something soon, I am going to die.” She clutched at her stomach theatrically.
“You could have eaten,” Callum pointed out as mildly as he had suggested just a moment ago that they could have gone to bed without him.
“Yes, but we wanted to get drunk instead.” She reached out and caught Callum’s hand in her own. “Now take us to dinner.”
Chapter 12 - Nerea, as usual, is excessively good at communication
Lying in bed on a late Saturday morning in London, Nerea listened to Jamie and Callum making breakfast while arguing about a recent review in the Times Literary Supplement. Which was when Nerea realized that Callum was into Jamie despite his age, not because of it.
The thought had been creeping up on her the more she spent time with Jamie and the more she spent time with him and Callum together. To be sure, it had only been two weeks, but it had been steady and inexorable. That morning, watching Callum give Jamie a heart-melting smile and a kiss before admonishing him to watch the eggs, she was sure.
She waited — through a day of markets and strolling, a late evening trip to a film that featured absolutely no one they knew, and another glorious night in bed — until Jamie went home on Sunday afternoon to ask Callum about it.
“It’s easy with Jamie, isn’t it?” She tried to be as casual as she could, though Callum wouldn’t be fooled.
“Too easy,” he said glumly as they stripped the bed. Sunday was laundry day. Just because they could hire someone to come in to clean didn’t mean they wanted that sort of intrusion.
“Why is that a bad thing?” Nerea asked.
“Because things that are easy now tend to lead to decisions that are hard later.”
Nerea gave her husband a wary look.
“What?” he said. “I’m not the complete fool I used to be.”
“I just hope that’s about your choices and not mine.” She shook a pillow out of its case before tossing the ecru fabric into the hamper.
“I’m not having a go at you about Antonio, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“Just checking,” she said sweetly, starting on another pillow.
“No. It’s definitely about mine. I just know where this is likely to end.”
“Where’s that?”
“With me being sad, Jamie being heartbroken, and you being exasperated with both of us but especially me. Because I have a track record of being unkind when you’re seriously involved with someone who’s not me, and Jamie at some point will surely want a normal life and a normal relationship.”
“We are normal.” Nerea hated when Callum said otherwise. Just because other people didn’t handle their marriages as they did was no reason to accept their judgments. “We’re married, we have three beautiful children. A grandchild soon.”
“Those aren’t things Jamie can have with us. Not in the same way.”
“Maybe he’ll have a primary or nesting relationship with someone else. It doesn’t have to end because it might get complicated or sometimes make us sad. And Callum, I am not keeping score. You’re allowed to ask for comfort in a possible future even if you’ve been poor at providing it in the past.”
“No one likes being sad. And not everyone always wants to do the work.”
Nerea could have argued, but there wasn’t much point. She pulled fresh sheets out of the catchall closet while Callum went to put the contents of the hamper in the washer. While he was crouched on the floor squinting for the millionth time at the instructions Nerea had written out and taped to the front of the machine, he said, almost to himself, “It was easier when I thought he was only a midlife crisis.”
“You never seriously believed that,” Nerea scoffed. “You’ve too much ego to admit to such a thing.”
Callum laughed softly. Finally having gotten the settings on the washer correct, he pressed start with satisfaction.
“Fair. But denial is nice.”
“And now?”
“And now I’m in love with a twenty-four-year-old I met while working on a romantic comedy.”
Nerea stopped in the middle of shaking out the pale grey bottom sheet. It settled slowly into soft hills and valleys on the bed, except for the edge she still held in her hands. She felt light-headed. She’d been essentially polyamorous since she’d started having relationships as a teenager, but hearing such a thing still came with a frisson of fear. Not at the possibility she could lose Callum — they’d been together too long and through too much for that to concern her — but at the reality that love was complicated. Every relationship in a life, whether about romance or not, impacted every other. She reminded herself to breathe.
“Shit,” Callum said to the laundry machine.
“Did you just realize that?” Nerea asked, after a long moment.
“You know, I don’t even know.” Callum levered himself slowly to his feet. The pipes gurgled as water ran to the machine. “It felt — ”
“Easy?” Nerea finished for him, echoing the word that had gotten them into the conversation in the first place.
Callum nodded. And then he turned his big, sad-looking eyes to Nerea. “Is that all right?”
“Oh, for Heaven’s sake,” Nerea started smoothing out the sheet on the bed and tucking it around a corner of the mattress. “Don’t ask foolish questions like that about things we agreed to years ago.”
“In my defense,” Callum said, stepping back into their bed-nook and helping tug the sheets down on the other side. “We never agreed to quite this situation.”
“And what situation is that? Other than the obvious.”
Callum spoke cautiously. “I think you’re in love with him too.”
For the second time in five minutes, Nerea stopped moving to stare at Callum.
Callum still looked a little wild about the eyes. “See? Terrifying, isn’t it.”
“I haven’t even said yes! It’s only been two weeks!”
“It took you a day to fall for me.”
“Yes, your massive ego aside.” Nerea found it easier to tease Callum than to talk about those moments of recognition she had experienced when he had first spoken to her in that café and first taken her to his bed.
Callum grinned at her, knowing the game, knowing, she was sure, everything she didn’t say. “I know you. And he’s very good with you.”
She made an irritated sound. “Have the decency to let me say it.”
“All right then.” Callum’s grin turned into a smirk. “Are you in love with Jam
ie?”
“Maybe,” she said before correcting herself. “Probably.” Jamie wasn’t anything like Callum, but he was curious and kind and could keep up with her without fear. So few people had that ability. She had no idea how anyone could spend an afternoon with Jamie and not fall in love with him. “Fine. Yes!” Nerea threw a pillow at him. “Now, what are we going to do about him?”
Callum gave a vague shrug.
Nerea decided now was not the time to criticize his frequently laissez-faire attitude towards logistics.
“I want to keep being in a relationship with him. And I want to keep being in a relationship with you and him, if you both continue to want that,” he finally said.
“Even after you’re done with the movie?”
“Very much so. I imagine it’ll be a lot more fun when we’ve both had some sleep.”
“You and I live in different cities half the year, not to mention countries. And how does he see his future?” It was one thing to talk about what they wanted, but it didn’t mean anything without knowing what Jamie wanted.
“I know,” Callum agreed. “It’s complicated.”
“Yes, so what would we do about that? The logistics at least? If he were on board.”
“I don’t know,” Callum admitted. “It’s not a problem yet, but when it is, it’s probably going to take both of us to figure it out.”
A WEEK LATER, CALLUM came home from work with Jamie, takeout, and a frown.
“What is it?” Nerea asked, helping to unpack the food while Jamie excused himself to the toilet, looking subdued himself. Had they fought? Had something gone wrong at work?
“Nothing. Everything’s fine,” Callum said. “I got the press tour schedule for Diminished Fifth.”
“I still don’t like that title,” Nerea noted. It was easier than mentioning how much she hated the way Callum’s films never stopped throwing wrenches into their lives. Filming was hard. Sometimes the media follow-up was worse.
“It’s a psychological thriller about a serial killer. It’s supposed to be unsettling.”
“You and your desire to play the villain for once,” Nerea teased. But now she understood Callum’s moodiness, and Jamie’s. Press tours — and the long weeks of intense travel and separation they entailed — were Callum’s least favorite parts of the business. As much as he loved travel, meeting people, and playing with interviewers, Nerea knew that weeks on end of that, without her by his side, took their toll.
“When is it?” she asked when her husband stopped unpacking containers and wrapped his arms around her from behind. He rested his chin on her shoulder.
“August.”
“So soon?”
Callum hummed. “Middle of August to the middle of September. Almost an entire month.”
Nerea stopped working and pressed her hands over Callum’s; that was too long. “What do you want to do right now?”
“I want to eat dinner with you and Jamie and then go to bed, also with you and Jamie.”
“You’re tired?”
Nerea felt the puff of Callum’s breath on the back of her neck when he chuckled softly. “No. Not to sleep.”
JAMIE WRAPPED HIS WORK on Butterflies before Callum did. On his last day he went out with some of the crew to celebrate. So that night Nerea and Callum made dinner together and carried it up to the roof to eat — and talk. About their marriage, about their children, about their lives, and about their future.
Nerea, as was often the case, found herself leading the way, but Callum was attentive and eager, always wanting to do the best for everyone, even if he was, at times, too clumsy for everyone’s hearts. They stayed up far too late in the warm summer night, Nerea eventually sitting on her husband’s lap as they shared a bottle of wine and discussed their plans from small to large and easy to hard.
At noon the next day Jamie turned up at their flat looking a bit hungover and like he didn’t quite know what to do with himself. He hadn’t bothered to call or text to say he was coming over, which didn’t strike Nerea as best practices. Yet, to her surprise, she didn’t resent the intrusion. And Callum, as usual, was too thrilled to be in the presence of affection to really worry about protocol.
The three of them ventured out to dinner at a local place a few blocks away. Sex and an afternoon nap had been a restorative, and Jamie seemed happy to be outside on a gorgeous night and not either trapped on set or desperately trying to catch up on sleep. He walked backward most of the way to the restaurant for no reason Nerea could fathom unless it was that he wanted to look at them both as they talked. Which was adorable, but slightly dangerous. More than once Callum had to put out a hand to grab Jamie before he backed into a post box or a tree.
The restaurant was little more than a neighborhood pub. Small and not at all crowded, it hadn’t changed much in the years Nerea and Callum had lived nearby. A German shepherd, curled under a table, gave a friendly wag of its tail as they walked past.
“I still can’t believe you go to places like this.” Jamie slid into a booth across from them.
“I like a good dive as much as you boys,” Nerea said with a smile, “Also, Jamie, you’re dressed like a slob.”
Jamie looked down at his sweatpants and T-shirt. “Yeah, okay, that’s fair.”
For a quarter of an hour, they worked their way through greasy pub fare and argued the merits of their various beer selections. But as pleasant as that chatter was, change was upon them. Nerea knew it needed to be acknowledged. She turned to Jamie.
“What are your plans now you’re done with the film?” It wasn’t an elegant question, but Nerea wasn’t sure there was ever a delicate way to inquire as to a lover’s potentially disruptive plans.
“Sleep for a week. Then I’m going back to Dublin to visit my parents and sisters for a bit. After that, I’m not sure. It’s hard to think that far ahead. Call my agent? See what’s next?”
“And your plans for us?” Callum put in.
Nerea nudged Callum’s foot under the table. Just because they’d planned this conversation didn’t mean they had to let Jamie know. Or conduct it in public.
“I don’t know.” Jamie looked between the two of them, his earlier ebullience fading. “I mean, I’ve thought about it, and I know you asked the question. But I don’t see how I can give you any meaningful answer here?”
“I think that’s fine,” Nerea said, so glad that Jamie understood both the conversation that needed to happen and that it probably shouldn't happen here. Callum popped another chip in his mouth. Nerea relaxed as their talk slowly drifted back to the day-to-day mundanities with which it had begun.
They strolled back to the flat slowly through a mild evening humming with the chirp of insects. Nerea had done this walk with her husband hundreds of times over the years. Prime ministers had come and gone, fashions had changed, their daughters had been born and grown, and yet London and their love remained. Jamie by their side was just one more version of the life they had always been living.
Callum reached for Nerea’s hand; Nerea reached back for him instinctively. She was fairly certain Callum didn’t see the wistful look Jamie gave their twined fingers. She also suspected her husband didn’t hear the young man’s silence the way she did. In fact, Jamie was quiet the whole walk back to the flat. When they reached the sidewalk outside he hesitated, then seemed to make a decision.
“Tonight was fun,” he said, taking a step back despite his words in the restaurant. “But I should probably get home.”
Nerea could see that Jamie’s pulling away was more than physical and it tugged at her with the hint of pain to come. Callum must have felt it too, because before she could speak, he did.
“I think you should probably come upstairs with us.”
“But you and Nerea — ”
Callum took a step toward the boy and wrapped an arm around Jamie’s tense shoulders to steer him through the doorway. “We would like to have a conversation with you.”
“Are you sure?” Jamie asked.
“I do want to, but you probably want time together, and I don’t want to make trouble or be a bother for you.” He was babbling now. Nerea’s heart ached for him.
“We’re sure,” Callum answered for both of them. “Now come in because if we didn’t want to discuss this in a pub we definitely don’t want to on the street.”
Upstairs, Nerea stepped into the bathroom to change out of her dress and into lounge clothes, not because she needed privacy but because she wanted to give Jamie and Callum space alone for a few minutes. They had been together first, and it was only courteous. When she emerged back into the main living space, her comb in her hand and her hair loose around her shoulders, it was obvious no talking had been done at all. Callum sat at one corner of the sofa, knees crossed defensively and his fingers tight on the arm. Jamie was curled up in the recliner in the opposite corner. Nerea sat down on the ottoman in front of Jamie’s chair and started to work on her hair.
“Is everything all right?” she asked the room at large. “Callum?” she pressed, when her husband and Jamie exchanged brief glances and then looked away from each other.
Jamie spoke first. “I have a question.” He rearranged himself in the recliner, but looked no more comfortable for the effort.
Callum gestured for him to keep talking.
“I’m done with this movie. Nerea, you’re going back to Spain eventually. Callum’s going to embark on whatever press he has for his creepy serial killer movie. All of which is fine, except that no one is talking about it except to ask me what I’m doing next. I don’t know how to answer that when I don’t know why you’re asking. Polite curiosity or planning? I don’t know where I fit — assuming I fit at all — for more than a shag here and there while we’re all still in town. Also the thing where you ask me questions in public about things we can’t talk about in public is annoying and yet you keep doing it.”
Callum nodded thoughtfully. “That’s why we asked you to come up here,” he said.
“To shag while we’ve all still got the time?”
The Art of Three Page 8