He rounds the corner from theMysteriessection, the smile on his face mirroring mine. I hand him the offering with a flourish, and he accepts it as if it's something precious. The loaf, which had seemed so large in my hands, looks small in his, something I find I like.
Callum’s personality is gentle and calm, but his presence is colossal. He takes up space in a way that feels steady and beautiful, like a mountain.
When his eyes lift back to mine, suddenly every thought flees my head.
"Hi," seems to be the one word I can manage right now.
"Hey, Sophie," he says softly, his warm brown eyes lockedonto mine. He lifts the loaf, "It smells amazing."
"I'm a bit of a banana bread connoisseur," I say, lifting my chin with playful smugness. "Took me years to perfect it."
He laughs, "Years, huh?"
"Manybatches.Manybananas sacrificed. None in vain, I promise."
"You're pretty hardcore about your baked goods."
"Just wait till Christmas, then you'll truly see my baking mania."
"Can't wait."
Callum and I smile at each other, our easy camaraderie contrasting with how buzzy this moment feels. He’s just so easy to talk to. I never worry about saying something silly and him being annoyed or rolling his eyes at me.
I can be Sophie.
"I'll go cut this up," Maeve gently cuts in, taking the loaf from Callum. She sends her son an amused grin before disappearing through the beaded curtain.
"How's your day going?" I ask him once we’re alone.
"Better now," Callum says with a grin, his tone earnest. The words land in my chest, holding themselves there, and I have to focus on breathing as I follow him up to the front register.
Plot, seeing my arrival, jumps up on the register and starts rubbing his fuzzy gray head against my open hand. I giggle at his antics as he lets out a loud, plaintivemeow.
Callum shakes his head at him as he grabs a cardboard box from the floor and opens it with a box cutter. From what I can see, it's a new shipment of hardcovers, and he works efficiently as he takes them out to organize.
"Aw, such a handsome boy," I coo while scratching Plot's ears.
"You're like a snake charmer," Callum grins, looking at the purring cat. "A Plot charmer."
"He just senses I'm dying and is having pity," I joke, a littledarkly. I guess gallows humor has been bubbling up lately as a way for me to cope, but when I look at Callum's face, there's no humor in it.
Silence hangs dead in the air and stretches until he breaks it.
"Pleasedon't joke about that," he murmurs, the tone of his voice making me wince. His expression looks like I just sucked punched him, and I immediately feel awful.
"I'm sorry," I apologize genuinely, reaching my hand out and laying it on his arm. He meets my eyes, and I try to smile. "I just... feel like it's reverse psychology. If I talk about it, it won't happen. I'm sorry."
Callum closes his eyes and shakes his head, "No, don't apologize, Sophie. I know I shouldn't tell you how to deal with it. It's not fair of me. It's just... I don't like the thought of you not being here."
The earnestness of those words makes me tighten my hand on his arm. He can feel it, the muscle under my hand tensing, and our eyes lock. Slowly, he rests his large and warm hand over mine.
"I'm not going anywhere," I tell him sincerely. He holds my gaze for a long moment before he nods. Reluctantly, we break contact after a few more seconds, and I grin smugly at him.
"I mean, that's what the whole chemo and getting my breasts chopped off thing is for. I'm gonna kick cancer's ass, Iamkicking cancer's ass."
I playfully flex my arm muscles, and his face breaks into an amused smile.
"Easy, Sarah Connor."
