Callum's eyes flick to mine for a moment, the warm brown darker than I've ever seen—heated and knowing—and I just smile innocently at him. Teasing a bit, playing a fun little game meant only for us. There's something else I can read in those eyes. A promise for later.
I want to make love to Callum. Not just the physicality of it—okay, I want that too, badly—but I want that complete connection with him. That all-consuming closeness of vulnerability and intimacy. I want to feel him inside of me, surrounding me, skin to skin, heart to heart. My name on his lips, his name on mine. I want to feel him moving on top of me, me moving on top of him. I want him so bad I can barely think straight.
And, judging from the way his delicious lips quirk up, the closest thing to a smirk I've ever seen on him, I know he wants me too. He's not cocky, not smug, he's just certain.
Callum leans in and brushes his lips against my ear as herumbles, "You are the most beautiful woman in this room, do you know that?"
I huff a laugh, turning to him and letting our noses brush as I tease back. "And you're biased, do you know that?"
Callum just shakes his head, tilting his forehead until it meets mine.
"Not biased, just truthful," his voice dips, husky and low. "You are beautiful, Sophie. Inside and out. I'm the luckiest man in this whole world."
My heart feels like it cracks open at that, and my mouth opens, ready to tell him—the setting is perfect, romantic and sweet, I'm ready, I want him to know. I need him to know how I feel.
"I—"
"Oh, there she is!"
Bailey's delighted exclamation slices through the moment, startling us both.
Turning to where Bailey is looking, I see a beautiful redhead walking toward us. She's petite, dressed in a mauve-colored dress with long, sheer sleeves. Her vibrant red hair is swept into a loose updo, a few soft curls escaping to frame her delicate face and complement her fair skin. She beams as she reaches our table and wraps Bailey in a tight, affectionate hug. "Oh, my girl, I'm so happy to see you."
Michael stands and pretends to pout, arms extended dramatically. "What about me? Yourfavoriteson?"
"Shush, I'm talking to my favorite daughter," she teases, releasing Bailey with a laugh, before turning to the rest of us.
"Sophie, Callum—this is my future mother-in-law, Claire Salvatore," Bailey says brightly.
Claire's face softens at our names, and Callum and I stand up to greet her.
"So nice to finally meet you, Callum," Claire reaches out,shaking Callum's hand with a smile, before she takes my offered one in both of hers. As I look at her, she reminds me of Donna, her expression taking on that distinct maternal warmth of someone who wants to mother everyone she encounters. It's something I've always admired about Donna—the kind of person I would like to be one day, when I have my own kids.
Those kids have been appearing in my thoughts and dreams even more lately—with brown eyes and dark brown hair and their little noses buried in books.
One day.
Hopefully.
"Sophie," Claire says, voice rich and sincere, "Oh, it's so lovely to meet you, dear."
"It's so nice to meet you," I respond genuinely. "Your hotel is absolutely beautiful."
"Thank you so much for coming," Claire replies, releasing my hand with a final, gentle squeeze. "I read Bailey's article about you—it was incredible. I have to say I admire you so much."
"Oh," I feel my face flush a little at the praise. Her face is so open and kind, her eyes so earnest, and it's clear that she's not just saying that. She means it. "Thank you, Mrs. Salvatore," I say, a little shy.
"It's Claire, dear," she gently corrects me, "And just Grant, when you meet my husband—"
"Talking about me,anima mia?" a deep voice chimes in, and a tall man appears at Claire's side. He kisses her cheek with a loving tenderness and slips his arm around her waist like it's where it belongs.
Grant Salvatore.
The twins look exactly like him—the same olive skin, square jaw, and same nose with a slight bump. Except for the eyes, they are all Claire's. His silver-streaked hair is neatly swept back, andsmile lines fan out from the corners of his eyes and mouth, signs of a life full of happiness and laughter.
While Claire exudes pure elegance, Grant radiates warmth and a hint of mischief.
The love between Claire and Grant Salvatore is evident. Claire wasn't tense while we were talking, but her husband's presence seems to steady her now. The look in his eyes is pure, gazing at Claire like she's the only one who exists in this room. Years of love and life in those eyes, decades of unwavering devotion.
