‘Sorry,’ Callie said. ‘I’m totally here now. Promise.’
‘Is something wrong? Because…’
‘Nothing’s wrong,’ Callie said quickly. She couldn’t talk to Emma about Mae. It was too complicated.
She tried again to drag herself into the date. Emma was delightful. And Callie liked her. She did. This thing between them had been so fun, so unexpected, so new.
But through all of it, the Mae thing was a weight on her shoulders.
Mae, ignoring her texts. Mae, not picking up. Mae, who had never cared who Callie dated before. So why now?
An uncomfortable thought wormed its way in: What if Mae thinks you’re going to make a move onhernext… and she’s horrified?
‘My last bus goes in five minutes,’ Emma said.
Callie nodded. ‘I’ll walk you to the stop.’
They walked out together into the warm evening, the pub doorway spilling golden light across the pavement, and headed to the stop for the Staffington bus.
When they reached it, Emma turned to her. Her expression was shy, hopeful. She stepped closer and reached, carefully, for Callie’s hand.
Callie let her. Shewantedthis. She’d imagined this kiss. She’d replayed it in her head. She was ready.
Emma’s voice was soft. ‘Can I—?’
Callie wanted to lean in. She tried. But there was a weight in her stomach, a wrongness she couldn’t place.
Emma’s face was inches away, pretty and open and right there.
And Callie couldn’t do it. She couldn’t kiss her. She was simply not present enough to enjoy it.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘Can we do this another time?’
Emma blinked. Hurt flickered, and she hid it quickly.
‘Yeah. Of course,’ she said, stepping back with a grace Callie didn’t deserve. ‘Another time.’
The bus arrived, and Callie cursed the thing. If it had arrived sixty seconds ago, Callie wouldn’t have had to hurt Emma’s feelings.
They said goodnight, and Emma hopped aboard, taken away from the shitty date that was Callie. The second the bus rounded a corner, Calle took her phone out again. Still nothing.
Callie walked home despising herself, her mind circling dark suspicions she sifted through without daring to linger on. She had never felt so blind, or so utterly alone.
Fifteen
Now
Mae was in the bakery kitchen, as ever. But the ovens were cold today, and the shop closed. The production was coming soon.
She’d been staring at an app icon for a good minute, telling herself she was being ridiculous. People dated. She could absolutely be one of those people. Not of late, no. But why not today?
She tapped it open. Women only. Confirm.
The screen took a moment, spinning through the tiny local radius. She braced herself. It was impossible to date here without swiping through ghosts of the village: people who’d been in her year at school, people she’d served at the counter, neighbours… There was a distinct lack of sexy mystery to living in Westerleigh.
First profile: someone who worked at the garage. Mae had been on a date with her before. No chemistry. Swipe.
Second: a woman Mae recognised from two summers ago, when she’d accidentally elbowed her during a charity fun run. She’d not been understanding, the sour-faced arse. Swipe.
