Callie’s pulse jumped. Her palms felt warm. She couldn’t think straight. She only knew one thing with absolute clarity: If she walked away from this moment, she would regret it for the rest of her life.
‘I realised something,’ Callie murmured.
‘What?’ Mae whispered.
‘I realised that if this was over, you and me? Nothing else really mattered.’
Mae swallowed.
Callie lifted a hand and, trembling, brushed a strand of hair from Mae’s cheek.
‘And I realised,’ she said, barely audible, ‘that I don’t want to lose you. Not for Emma. Not for anyone.’
Mae’s eyes shone. ‘Callie… don’t.’
Callie leaned in, painfully slowly. Giving Mae the chance to stop her, run, shout, do anything.
Mae did nothing.
Callie closed the last inch between them and kissed Mae. A soft, terrified, careful kiss.
When she pulled back only a fraction, Mae was staring at her like she’d rewritten reality. Which, Callie supposed, she had.
Twenty-One
Now
Mae wiped down the counter for the fourth time, the cloth making tight, angry circles she couldn’t seem to stop.
Neil stood in front of her, his face primed for bullshit. ‘Mae, sweetheart,’ he began.
‘Don’t call me sweetheart,’ Mae snapped.
Neil blinked. ‘Right. Okay. Fine. Mae. We just need to talk through tomorrow’s plan.’
‘There is no tomorrow’s plan,’ Mae said, folding the cloth and setting it down with deliberate calm. ‘We had an agreement. You get your footage today. Today, Neil. That was the deal. Sam didn’t show. That’s not my problem.’
‘It wasn’t anyone’s fault,’ Neil said, palms lifted in peacekeeping. ‘If you don’t count the tanning consultant. Come on. You were brilliant today. We just need another half day when Sam arrives tomorrow—’
‘No,’ Mae said, sharply enough that Neil actually flinched. ‘I can’t keep shutting the place down because someone’s fake tan malfunctioned.’
‘We’d compensate you generously,’ he said quickly. ‘We’re not unreasonable.’
Mae gave a humourless snort. ‘You think this is about money?’
Neil hesitated. ‘Yes?’
Mae stared at him until he looked away.
‘We agreed one day,’ she said. ‘One. I wouldn’t have done it if I’d thought it would stretch to two.’
‘It’s just a morning,’ he said desperately. ‘We’d be finished by lunch. You could open for the afternoon.’
‘And who’s doing prep while you’re filling every corner of my kitchen with lights?’ Mae asked. ‘Who’s shaping the fifty-odd loaves that need baking before midday? You?’
Neil’s lips twitched. ‘Well… no.’
‘Right.’ Mae folded her arms.
