by Sarah Smith
I pause to take a breath, wondering if sharing this next part will make me feel even more vulnerable than I already do. “And it’s a way for me to live out my dad’s last wish.”
When I look up, his obnoxiously gorgeous face is twisted in an unfamiliar expression. Not pity, exactly, but not sadness. Something kinder. Empathy, I think. That wrinkle in his brow, the tenderness in his eyes, it’s like he understands exactly what it feels like to have your heart ripped out, your insides set on fire, when you lose a piece of your family forever.
“That’s incredible, Nikki. I bet that would make your dad so happy.”
I nod a thank-you. In the past it’s been so wrenching to talk about any of this. But speaking to Callum sets me at ease. How weird.
“Do you miss Portland?” he asks.
“A lot. Everything is so different there, from the quirky style of houses to the hipster food to the insane traffic and the nine months of rain. I never realized just how pleasant daily sunshine was until I moved to Maui.”
“Coming from England, it was a shock for me too.”
“I’m still getting used to it—and the number of hotels and resorts and vacation condos that seem to be everywhere,” I say. “Hopefully, I can go back to Oregon for a visit someday. I burned a lot of people I was close to when I moved though.”
“How do you mean?”
“When I got the news about my dad, I went into autopilot mode. The only thing that mattered was getting to Maui so I could be with him during treatment. I gave my notice at my job, packed my stuff, and left. I didn’t even say good-bye to most of my friends and coworkers. I just sent them texts telling them about what happened with my dad and that I had to leave right away. Most of them called to check up on me a few times the first few months I was gone, to ask if I was okay and if there was anything they could do for me. I never followed up with them. I’ve never even called them back to catch up or say hello. It was pretty cruel, looking back on it.”
This is the first time I’ve admitted all of this out loud, and it still makes me want to crawl out of my skin. I was the world’s worst friend.
“It’s been over a year since I’ve talked to any of my friends on the mainland,” I say quietly.
Callum shakes his head. “Nikki.”
The sound of my name spoken in his soft, low tone is made melodic by his accent and sends a tingle through me.
“You didn’t do anything wrong. You had a family emergency and had to act quickly. I’m sure they understood.”
“I’ll never know.”
“You can reconnect with them. People get back in touch all the time nowadays.”
“Maybe.” Maybe someday when things are secure, I’ll have time for friends again.
“You should consider it,” he says softly.
It’s a thought that’s crossed my mind a million times. I have every single one of their numbers still saved in my phone. But what kind of jerk would I sound like if I called up my old workmates after almost a year and a half of zero contact?
Callum’s gaze falls to his lap. When he looks back up at me, his face is twisted into a pained expression. “Nikki, if I had known you lost your dad when we first met, I wouldn’t have acted like such a . . .”
“Wanker?”
He breaks into the widest grin I’ve ever seen him make, and it’s pure, unfettered joy. It must be contagious, because now I’m grinning too.
“You’re using my lingo. Love it,” he says. “Is that what you thought of me when you first met me?”
“No. You were nice to me when you thought I was the health inspector. But when you started being mean, yeah. It was straight to wanker.”
He chuckles, not the least bit offended at my honesty.
I let out a small laugh. “I’d say sorry, but I know you thought the same of me.”
“Not really,” he says, his gaze fixed to mine.
“Yeah right.”
“It’s the truth. I liked you straightaway.”
“Not possible. You were pissed at me, just like I was pissed at you.”
For a second he looks away, like he’s trying to rein in the smile that’s so close to splitting his face. When he turns back to me, the lightest shade of pink splashes across his cheeks.
“You made me angry. But I liked it.”
My mouth goes dry. “You did?”
“I have a bit of a thing for gorgeous women who take the piss out of me.”
“Really?”
The break that follows is like silent flirting. He’s gazing at me and I’m gazing at him. The expression on his face is an intriguing mix of shy and smug, like he’s unsure if admitting that to me was a good idea, but he wanted to do it anyway.
His admission flatters me as much as it intrigues me. Yes, it’s a bit nutty that I’m well on my way to liking a guy I loathed two hours ago. But this little bit of honest flirting has gone a long way toward repairing the rift between us.
“Should I keep calling you wanker, then?”
Callum lets out a throaty chuckle. “I suppose my personality isn’t fit for the hospitality industry.”
“It’s pretty damn well suited to finance.”
Confusion mars his face.
“I ran into Finn at the farmer’s market right before I saw you that day. He gave me a quick rundown of your professional past. Everything made a lot more sense when he told me you were an ex-finance guy.”
Callum lets out a groan, then a soft laugh. “Of course Finn would do that.”
“It was sort of sweet the way he defended you. He said you were the only one who offered to help him when he ran into trouble with his business.”
Flush creeps from behind the thick stubble on his face once again. Inside I’m cheering. It’s weird to pay a compliment to the guy I’ve been warring with the past few weeks. But it’s also intriguing. The gentle curve of his smile, the easy posture he assumes when we share about our backgrounds make me wish we could talk like this always.
“So in all your finance experience, did you also train how to cook and operate a restaurant? Because you do a pretty bang-up job.”
“A bit. I learned to cook by helping my gran at her bed-and-breakfast growing up. Finn and I would do the cooking and cleaning as teenagers.”
“Seriously?”
His eyes cut to me. “You sound surprised.”
“That sounds so . . . quaint. And heartwarming. Very unlike you.”
He chuckles. “We enjoyed it. Got to plan the menus together. The guests loved whatever we’d come up with. We’d trade off being head chef every other night. Finn loved that. Though he loved it a lot less the nights I was in charge. According to him, I’m bossy.”
“No way.” I try for fake surprise. He rewards me with a wink.
“Finn was a bit reckless in the kitchen growing up,” Callum says. “He avoided countless grease fires thanks to me.”
“You’ve got the protective-big-brother act down,” I say.
There’s a long pause. He looks away from me, then clears his throat. “There’s a reason for that.”
“Which is?”
Another extended pause. He takes a breath. “Finn was hit by a car when he was five years old. He was riding his bike, and a drunk driver crashed into him. He nearly died.”
“Oh God.” I cup my hand over my mouth.
“He’s fine now, of course, but he was in a coma at first. I sat by his side every day in the hospital, holding his hand, hoping that he’d just wake up and get better. I thought I was going to lose him, my only brother. My only sibling.”
The hard clench of his jaw, the glistening of his eyes give away just how hard he’s struggling to keep it together while telling me all this.
Like a reflex, my hand falls to his forearm. Inside, I’m cringing. The urge to comfort happened so fast, before
I could think twice and hesitate. I expect a frown or for him to ask just what the hell I think I’m doing. But none of that happens. All he does is close his eyes and nod.
“Thank you,” he whispers.
We’ve broken the touch barrier previously with handshakes, but this time, there’s substance to our contact. We’re sharing emotions, memories, pain. Silence floats between us once more, but this time there’s comfort. And it’s mutual.
A minute passes, and I still say nothing. I just keep my palm on his forearm and wait for him to feel ready to speak.
“He woke up two days later to his obnoxious, overprotective eight-year-old brother holding his hand,” Callum says.
“I bet he was over the moon to see you by his side.”
Callum’s eyes take on a friendly sheen when they focus on me. “It took a few moments for him to process what was going on. Then when he did, when he saw me, he smiled.”
There’s a tingling heat between my hand and his arm. I give him a final pat, then slip my hand back to my lap.
“Of course he did,” I say. “His big brother was right there watching over him the whole time.”
He drains the rest of his drink and hands the empty cup to a passing flight attendant with a small smile and a polite thank-you. “I suppose ever since then, I’ve been in protective-brother mode. Whenever people tried to pick on him at school, I’d jump in to defend him. When I was abroad for work, I’d call him every week to check up on him. Even now, he’s twenty-seven and I’m thirty, yet I’m still doing it. When I first moved to Maui, I was only meant to stay to help him for a few months, to help him get his footing. Then I’d move back to Chicago. But I’ve pushed back my moving date so many times. It’s just nice to be close to him for a change and work with him. And see him doing so well. It’s ridiculous, but . . .”
“It’s not. I totally get it.”
He shakes his head. He knows I know what it’s like. Me uprooting my life to be closer to my mom is proof.
“I’m sure he’ll be glad to be rid of his overbearing older brother in a couple of months.”
“So you’re for sure moving back to Chicago then?”
He nods while glancing away. “After the Maui Food Festival.”
I almost ask why he’d go back if he’s enjoying his current setup so much, but I bite my tongue. Given how his eyes darted away when he mentioned it, he probably doesn’t want to say more.
I touch my hand to my face. “Wow. The Question Game goes deep. You should have warned me.”
Another soft smile from him. Inside I’m glowing, like a giant Christmas tree with all the lights on full blast.
“Growing up, Finn and I would mostly ask ridiculous questions, like if our favorite superheroes could beat a lion or a bear in a fight.”
I let out a boom of a laugh, then notice the sky outside turning deep blue. It’s almost nighttime already.
Callum’s expression turns sheepish. “I’m sorry things got so personal.”
I fix my gaze on him. “I’m not.”
Getting personal helped us connect. Something new has been forged between us. I felt it through every moment of prolonged eye contact with Callum in this conversation, every time he leaned in close enough that I could feel his delicious body heat on mine. I felt it when I touched his arm. We’re not enemies anymore, not by a long shot. At this point, after all the light flirting and sharing of emotional memories, we’re well into liking-each-other territory. Friends doesn’t seem like the right word though. It feels a lot like we’re bordering on something else entirely.
As I hold his gaze once more, I wonder if he feels this shift between us too.
But I don’t have to wonder. We’re still playing. I can ask.
I breathe. “One more question.”
Chapter 8
I exhale. “So um . . . this thing . . .”
Callum looks at me with renewed intensity.
“Do you feel . . .”
I attempt a steadying breath, then promptly lose my nerve. “So when are you going to come visit Lemon?”
His lips part, but he says nothing for the first few seconds. He swallows. “I didn’t know I was welcome to see her.”
“You’re the reason I have her. Of course you’re welcome.”
His smile is small but warm. “How is she doing, by the way?”
“Good. She mostly sleeps, eats, and wakes up for me to pet her, then she goes back to sleep.”
“Sounds like a typical cat.” He taps his fingers against his knee. “I’d love to see her when we’re back in Maui, if that’s okay?”
“I’d like that too.” My voice is too raspy for my own good, but I can’t help it. That stare, the soft way he speaks. I’d say yes to anything he’d ask right now.
Swallowing, I force myself back on track. “So why are you headed to London?”
“Our cousin Henry is getting married.”
“Finn didn’t feel like coming?”
“He doesn’t get on with Henry. I don’t, either, to be honest. He’s very much a blokey type whose life revolves around beer, football, and football chants.”
“That’s the most British sentence I’ve ever heard.”
His laugh fills our end of the cabin. It makes my heart beat faster.
“I don’t know how he ever managed to convince his fiancée to marry him. But family is family. Besides, it’s been an age since I’ve been home last. I owe everyone a visit.”
“But Finn gets out of it?”
“That’s just his personality and everyone understands. I can’t really blame Finn. Henry’s a bit of a bellend.”
I honk out a laugh so loud, it spooks the flight attendant pushing a food cart by us. “Wow. That’s some salty language coming from a distinguished former finance professional.”
He rolls his eyes. “Finance is hardly a distinguished profession.”
“But it pays pretty damn well, from what I’ve noticed.”
“You’ve got some balls bringing up money.” He chuckles.
“You dropped everything to move to Maui, a place that’s notoriously expensive. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you made bank before your food truck days.”
He rubs his neck, clearly uncomfortable with all this money talk. So I switch gears.
“But in all seriousness, you’re pretty amazing, Callum. Finn also filled me in on how your parents were upset when you quit to help him, but you didn’t care. That’s really sweet. Like, unbelievably sweet.”
Once again, his eyes fall to his lap. He’s dashing when he’s bashful. “Well, if it comes to choosing between pleasing my career-obsessed parents or working with my brother, I choose my brother. Always.”
My heart thuds. “Do you miss anything about your old job?”
“The paychecks were nice, but that’s not enough to make me give up an opportunity to work with Finn. It feels a bit like old times, when we were teenagers working for our gran. I think she’d be proud.”
“I know she would.” I look away and out the window when I realize the weird conviction in my voice. What an awkward thing for me to say, someone who has never met his grandmother.
I count to five and turn back to Callum, ready for a change of subject. “You probably don’t miss having to wear a suit all the time. Finance guys wear suits, right?”
“I definitely don’t miss that,” he says.
The expression on his face turns soft, and for a moment, I pause. Maybe I don’t have the guts to ask him about this shift in our dynamic, but I’m feeling bold enough to repay the flirty compliment he paid me before about giving him a hard time.
I fix my stare on his eyes. The perfect balance of hazel and green. “That’s too bad,” I say before turning back to the window. If I have any hope of pulling this off, I can’t keep eye contact with him. “I bet you look r
eally freaking good in a suit, Callum.”
Again I count to five before turning back to check his reaction. I turn back and see the corners of his mouth turned up into a flustered grin. He is totally into it.
His gaze sharpens. “How about you? Do you miss dressing the part of restaurant general manager?”
“Tons. I loved it. I wore little black dresses every night.”
Callum’s cheeks are fiery red when he swallows. His eyebrows lift a touch. “Every night?”
I nod, glancing away when I feel my own cheeks warm. “As much as I love wearing comfy clothes at the food truck, I do miss dressing up and feeling pretty.”
“You’re always pretty, no matter what you wear.”
It’s no longer just my cheeks that are warm. His low growl sets every inch of my skin on fire.
The cheery flight attendant from earlier walks up to our row, still beaming. “Miss, I managed to find someone to trade seats with you, if you’re still interested.”
Callum directs a pointed look at me. Because he already knows, even though I haven’t uttered a word. I don’t want to sit next to anyone other than him.
“I changed my mind,” I say to her. “I think I’ll stay.”
* * *
• • •
When I open my eyes, it’s still dark in the cabin. I don’t remember when I fell asleep, but it wasn’t long after I declined the flight attendant’s offer to trade seats. Callum and I chatted some more, flirted some more, laughed some more, and then my eyelids started to feel heavy. The last thing I recall is pressing against the headrest of my seat and closing my eyes.
But right now my head is propped on something firmer than the headrest. A few more seconds, and my eyes adjust to the dimness of the cabin. I register something underneath my cheek.
Callum’s shoulder.
A sharp intake of air is my only response. I immediately clamp my mouth shut to keep from making too much noise. With each second that passes, I’m more alert. I notice the rhythmic, up-and-down movement of his chest, a telltale sign that he’s deep in sleep.