“But do you say that as someone who comes from money?”
“No.” Callie shook her head. “You forget that before Mum and I came here, back when I still called her Mom”—she slipped into her American accent with ease—“we had nothing. We lived in a studio apartment and instead of a living room we had two twin beds. Mum tried to hide how hard things were, but I could always sense her worry and stress. Any help we got was so appreciated. Our neighbors were this amazing couple, Juanita and Eli, and even though they didn’t have much themselves, they helped us out when they could.” Callie gave me a reassuring smile. “Your offer to your friend was generous. I’m sure deep down he was grateful for it. But sometimes we must do things for ourselves. Especially if that’s all we’re used to.”
“I’ve never had to do anything for myself. I’ve always known that if shit hit the fan, I had my family’s money to bail me out. Doesn’t say much for me, does it?” I didn’t know why I was telling her this stuff. It was so easy to fall back into real conversation with Callie. And for the most part, our relationship had been strong because we could tell each other anything. The one thing I hadn’t been able to voice had been the very reason we broke up.
I believed now if I’d been honest with her, we’d have worked things out.
“I’d agree if you didn’t work your arse off. You didn’t get into UCL because of your family, Lewis. You didn’t graduate with job offers to several top architect firms because of your family. That was all you. You’ve never been lazy, and it would be so easy to be lazy in your position.”
Pleasure rippled through me. “How do you know aboutthe offers from the firms?”
Callie rolled her eyes. “Don’t get a big head. Eilidh told me. Your sister likes to tell me things about you all the time that I don’t ask to know.”
I didn’t want to believe her. I wanted to believe that she ate up whatever bit of information about me she was fed. Like I did with her. “So … why Paris?”
If she was surprised by the change of subject, she didn’t say so. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, when we were together, you never mentioned it. How did it come about?”
“I actually was going to talk to you about it before we broke up,” she said tonelessly, like our breakup no longer bothered her. “Thought we could come up with a plan. Maybe for you to do a transfer to a French uni for a couple of years while I trained at the pastry school. Or we’d wait until you’d graduated and then go. I knew you wanted to travel, so I thought you’d have liked the idea.” That’s when I saw it, the crack in her facade. Her smile was pained.
As for me, I felt like my chest was splitting down the middle. “I would have loved it.” It wasn’t a lie. It would have been the perfect balance for both of us. A chance for me to live elsewhere for a time, to see a bit of the world, until we came home to Ardnoch. Knowing what I knew now, missing my home like I never imagined I would, I would have been more than happy with that plan.
Instead, I came to a city that made me lonelier than ever and Callie went to Paris and thrived there.
Life was ironic that way.
“It took me a while to get up the courage to go alone, but a few years ago I decided it was now or never.”
“And you’re glad you went?”
“I loved living there and learning and experiencinganother culture … but I think I loved it because I knew I’d return home to my family at the end of the adventure.”
“To Ardnoch.”
She nodded.
“I’m proud of you,” I said quietly. “Am I allowed to say that?”
A strange expression crossed her face for a moment. Then she nodded. “Of course. I’m proud of you too. You set out to do exactly what you wanted. And here you are in London, about to start your career at a prestigious design firm.” Callie’s gaze dropped and she shook her glass at me. “Got any more?”
I nodded and stood up. When I reached for her glass, our fingers brushed. Callie snapped her hand back like she’d been burned.
This time, it didn’t hurt. This time her reaction gave me hope.
An hour later, my skin was flushed from my fourth whisky, and I could tell by the slight glassiness of Callie’s eyes she was feeling the effects too.
“Don’t you worry about her?” Callie had kicked off her shoes and was curled up on the end of the sofa. Her elbow rested on the back, while she leaned her head on her palm. “Sometimes when we talk, I feel like she’s got this wall up. And I don’t remember Eilidh ever having a wall up.”
I nodded, because I knew exactly what she meant. For the past hour, we’d talked about everything and nothing, skirting the tension between us and catching each other up on our families. Currently, we were discussing Eilidh’s career and her sudden overnight fame. “She says she can handle it, but I wonder if she’s too proud to admit that maybe she wasn’t quite as ready for this life as she thought. Probably because myuncles tried to warn her, and she was so adamant that she could deal with it all.”
“Have you tried talking to her?”
“Of course. She tells me she’s great. Never better. And then she changes the subject.”
“Yup. That’s exactly what she does to me.”
My tongue a wee bit loose from the whisky, I said, “I’m glad you and she remained friends after our breakup.”
