Brian was looking at her with slight confusion. ‘Can’t imagine you not being in charge of the kitchen. You never even letmecook.’
Callie didn’t trust herself to say anymore. She didn’t want to ruin her mother’s new personality. She’d clearly worked hard to curate it. Plus, bigger fish were waiting to be fried.
‘Neil,’ she said quietly, ‘I didn’t know about this baking lesson.’
‘Oh, she was great with the local shoot,’ Neil said. ‘We thought it made sense. Authenticity and all that.’
Authenticity. Right. Because nothing was more authentic than being forced into a staged bakery date with your former bestie/that other thing they were, and the person you were being paid to manufacture sexual tension with.
Callie managed a nod. ‘Okay. Fine.’
Neil didn’t notice the strain in her voice. He finished his tea, promised they’d be quick today, and left with his usual cheerful wave.
The kitchen door closed behind him. Silence settled.
Her mum touched her shoulder. ‘You look pale.’ Callie could hear the hidden pleasure in the comment. She wasn’t going to forget Callie’s near exposure of her former mothering skills, or lack thereof.
Callie shot her a look that could have curdled milk. ‘I’m fine.’
But she wasn’t. Not even close.
Hannah nudged her. ‘Isn’t that going to be weird?’ she asked. ‘Aren’t you and Mae, like, toxic or something?’
Callie sighed, tired. ‘That’s not the word I’d use.’
Back Then
Callie subtly checked her phone for the fifth time in as many minutes.
No reply. Not even a delivered tick. Mae hadn’t answered her call earlier, either. Callie had left a voicemail that now felt embarrassingly cheerful.
She forced herself to put the phone face down on the table and focus. Emma was talking—something about her dog, or maybe her sister’s dog,someone’sdog—and Callie nodded when it felt appropriate, smiling where she knew she should. Emma’s face glowed under the soft pub lighting. She was lovely. Warm. Someone Callie genuinely liked. Someone Callie hadbeen looking forward to kissing all week. It had been exciting to think of it.
But she couldn’t feel any of it properly tonight. Her mind was stretched too thin with unanswered questions.
Why won’t she text me back? Why won’t she pick up? What the hell is happening?
It wasn’t like Mae. They talked about everything. Or they used to.
Emma paused mid-sentence. ‘Are you all right?’
Callie startled. ‘Yeah. Sorry. Long day.’
It wasn’t untrue. She’d built a huge Star Wars Lego kit with George for two hours today, which was more tiring than it sounded. He was very precise. He didn’t like it when you went outside the instructions.
But that wasn’t the real problem.
Callie kept re-running her last conversation with Mae in her head. What had happened? Because Callie was almost sure Mae wasn’t a bigot. She hadn’t cared who anyone went out with at school. It didn’t even seem to faze her when those three boys announced they were a throuple.
But there had been something off in her eyes. A shutter down. A distance. What was its source?
Emma leaned forward a little. ‘You seem… somewhere else.’
Callie attempted a laugh. ‘Is it that obvious?’
‘Very,’ Emma said gently.
Callie twisted her straw wrapper between her fingers. On the table beside it, her phone buzzed once. She jumped. But it was just the battery warning. Not Mae.
