And okay, maybe I'm getting a little satisfaction out of donating his stuff.
At least he had the decency to call our landlord and remove himself from the lease. The other bills were easy to transfer over to me, and I took my half of the money from our joint savings account—our wedding and house down payment fund—before closing my end. The more financial logistics I had to deal with in the fallout, the more thankful I am that we didn't get married before this happened.
The emotional logistics are a little more difficult to unravel, but the ache is becoming less each day.
I think what I saw last night tore apart whatever feelings still inside of me lingered for Paul, because right now, there isn'tanyfondness left in my body for him. Certainly no trust or respect, only a faint, sour-tasting echo of love.
I've come to realize that love without trust is just... anemotion, ultimately useless without an action to back it up.
Emotions can really hurt, though.
That kiss last night then stabs into my mind like a blade, and I violently flinch, knocking over my glass of water all over the counter.
“Shit,” I mutter, and Callum's brow furrows. He quickly moves to grab some paper towels and then cleans my mess up for me before I can even move. I try to take the sopping paper towels from him, but he just waves me off and grabs more. "Callum, you don't have to—"
"I know," Callum gently cuts me off, wiping the counter dry and then looking around for a trash can. I motion over to the wall by the window, and he throws the sopping paper towels away. It’s then that he sees the box pile in the living room and asks, his voice a little tense. "Are you... moving?"
"Oh, no," I shake my head. "That's just some of Paul’s stuff that needs to go to the donation center."
"Oh," Callum says with what sounds like relief before looking at the boxes again and shrugging. "I'll load it in the truck and take it there after I drop you off."
My eyes widen. "You would do that?"
"Yeah, I'd do anything for you," Callum answers immediately, and my cheeks flame in response. He freezes as his own cheeks darken, seeming to realize what he just said. He scratches his beard, his face looking a little embarrassed. "I mean, it's really no trouble."
"It wouldn't be an inconvenience?"
"None at all," Callum shakes his head with a small grin. "Mom's got the store, and Tuesday mornings are never busy."
I nod, but still feel a little guilty. He's already doing so much for me.
Jumping slightly when I feel his warm fingers on my chin, he tilts my head up, and my eyes widen when they meet his gaze.We've had small touches here and there, with me laying a hand on his arm, our shoulders touching during book club, fingers brushing when we pass each other something, and that time he brushed my hair back from my face and made my heart stutter.
But he’s never been so bold before, and the expression on his face is intense.
"You know you can talk to me, right?" he murmurs gently, and my head's already moving in a nod.
"Yes," I whisper.
"About anything," he stresses, his eyes melting. "Seriously, I'm... I'm always here to listen, Sophie."
"I know," I nod once more and reach my hand up, laying it gently on his bare wrist, his pupils dilating slightly at the contact. "Thank you."
He lingers for a long moment, expression suddenly unsure as his eyes seem to ask if this is okay. Smiling as my answer, he returns it with a soft one of his own before letting go of my chin.
Clearing his throat, he points toward my coffee machine. "Do you want coffee?"
Coffee sounds amazing right now.
"Yes, please,” I sigh.
"Go shower and get changed. I'll get your coffee and pack your snack bag."
"Apples and peanut—" I start to say, but he's already nodding.
"—peanut butter and your oatmeal," Callum finishes and then grins a little smugly. "Andchocolate chip cookies."
"I don't have any choc..." The words die in my throat when I see him reach into his tote bag and produce aRise N' Grindbakery bag. "Oh!"
