I stared at the folder in my hands, feeling the weight not of the paper, but of the implications those papers held. “I, uh, thank you for the offer, but my friend, Georgia, is an attorney. She’s already handling that for me.”
His eyebrows lifted a fraction. “Okay. Well, I guess that’s good. She’s someone you trust. If she has any questions, she’s welcome to reach out to my team. Or to me. Their numbers are in there and you have mine.”
I nodded, but the silence that followed stretched like a fraying old rubber band, tense and brittle. Forcing myself to breathe, I did my best to focus on the man in front of me and not the pounding of my heart or the guilt clawing up my throat.
“This is happening, then,” I said finally, clutching the folder tightly to my chest as I lifted my gaze to his. “We’re really doing this.”
He stared back at me for a moment, his expression entirely unreadable. “Yes, we are.”
I nodded again, my mouth drying up completely. This was what I wanted. What I’d decided was the right thing for Brody. For me. For all of us.
So why is my chest aching like this lie is going to suffocate me? Why is my heart racing like having him so close to me is the most erotic encounter I’ve ever had? And how the heck am I going to survive living with him if a minute-long meeting affects me this intensely?
The warning bell rang, shrill and abrupt, jerking me back to reality. I glanced at the door on instinct, knowing that whoever taught in here would be back momentarily. “I need to get to class.”
“We’ll talk more later,” he said quietly, but he didn’t leave right away, lingering instead with his eyes steady on mine in a way that made it impossible to look anywhere else. “There’s one more thing. Can you come to the courthouse with me later this week?”
I shook my head. “I’m so sorry, but I really can’t. We’re too close to midterms. I can’t take a day off right now, but we have abreak at the end of next week. I’ve got that Friday off. We could do it then.”
He nodded once, like he’d already magically rearranged his entire schedule to make himself available. “Friday, then.”
The words felt final, like the click of a lock. My heart thumped, but he still didn’t leave. “Have you talked to Brody about it yet?”
My stomach twisted. “Not yet. I will. I’m just, I’m, uh, not quite sure how to do it.”
Because how exactly do you tell your seven-year-old you’re marrying someone he barely knows? Even if that someone happens to be the one person who seemed to understand him instantly, it’s still not an easy conversation to have.
Callum took a step toward me, narrowing the space between us until he was close enough that I could feel the heat of him. His hand came up to wrap around my upper arm, firm and warm, but not demanding or possessive.
Just… there.Like he was anchoring me. To him.
Oddly, it was soothing. I leaned into his touch without meaning to, allowing it to soothe me like a balm.
“My parents want to meet you,” he said gently. “You should bring Brody, too. Dinner on Friday?”
The intimacy of the moment was so sharp that it stole my breath, my focus, and even my logic. The world outside the classroom suddenly felt very, very far away.
“I can’t,” I managed, my throat tight and my voice not convincing at all. “Brody has a hockey game upstate this weekend. He’ll be gone with his team and I’m driving some of them, so unfortunately, neither of us will be able to make it.”
For a moment, his thumb brushed over the sleeve of my cardigan, a barely there motion that made my pulse spike, but he dropped his hand, stepping back as if he’d finally remembered where and who we were.
“Another time, then.” His voice was calm again, crisp and polite, but I could still feel the ghost of his touch burning against my arm.
The final bell rang and I crashed back into reality. “I really have to go.”
“Yeah, okay. Goodbye, Maisie,” he said, once again reaching for me and giving my arm a light squeeze that made me feel things I hadn’t felt since college.
I suddenly felt awful for keeping this secret from him, but I also couldn’t see a way out of it anymore. I clutched the folder tighter, reminding myself this was all for Brody.
ForBrody.
As Callum slipped out into the hallway ahead of me, however, I wasn’t sure my heart was convinced of that anymore. Callum Westwood had always been dangerous to me, but he had certainly never been more dangerous than he was right now.
CHAPTER 17
CALLUM
The rink was quiet except for the scrape of gear bags dragging across the concrete floor. I hefted one onto the bench, grunting a little, and Gage smirked, very obviously thinking that I’d gone soft compared to the days when we’d done this all the time.
