‘You’re thinking of vampires,’ Mae said, trying for her usual dryness. It felt weak.
She stood back, allowing Callie to step inside. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, and she looked tired. But she was beautiful in a way Mae’s brain could barely process. It was like her eyes had been glued shut for the whole of her life, and now a little white spirit had been applied and boom. Those suckers were open, letting all the light in. And it was nearly too much.
‘Hi,’ Callie said.
Mae’s tongue had apparently forgotten how to work. ‘Hi,’ she managed after a pause long enough to be rude. ‘You’re… early. Not needed at home?’
‘Just dropped George off at his coding club.’ Callie shifted her weight. It was unnerving, seeing her like this. Off-balance.
Mae nodded. ‘Do you want a coffee?’
‘I want about seventeen,’ Callie said.
‘I didn’t sleep either,’ Mae admitted instantly.
Callie smiled. Mae smiled back in a way that felt odd on her face. But it wasn’t like she never smiled, so what the fuck was up with this? Was she discovering, at the grand old age of eighteen, that there were smiles she’d never worn along with the things she’d never felt?
Mae retreated to the machine, grateful for something to do. She could feel Callie’s eyes on her, tracking every tiny movement. Her hands weren’t quite behaving—the jug slipped a little, the cup rattled—but she managed to get liquid into the vessel without real catastrophe.
When she turned back, Callie was leaning on the counter, not quite relaxed, but nearer. Too near and not near enough.
‘Here,’ Mae said, setting the coffee down between them. ‘On the house.’
‘If I’d known all I had to do to get free coffee was kiss you, I’d have done it years ago,’ Callie said.
Mae’s breath caught. ‘Callie.’
‘How would you like me to say it?’ Callie lifted the cup but didn’t drink, fingers curled round it for warmth.
‘No, I just…’ Mae glanced towards the door, as if half the village might immediately burst in.
‘This isn’t private enough for you,’ Callie said, not a question.
A silence settled. Mae watched steam curl up from the coffee between them.
Callie took a deep breath. ‘I just wanted to tell you that I called Emma,’ she said.
Mae’s insides clenched. ‘Oh.’
‘I wanted to end it properly. No ghosting. I told her about you.’
Mae didn’t understand what she was hearing. ‘You told her about me?’
‘I didn’t give her your last name and national insurance number,’ Callie said. ‘But yes. I told her I’d been an idiot. That I was in love with…someoneand too much of a coward to face it.’
Mae abruptly forgot they were in a public spot.Fuck ‘em, she thought. She realised she was doing that funny grin again.
Callie stepped around to the gap at the end of the counter, moving with deliberate slowness, as if approaching a skittish animal.
Mae’s heart lurched into her throat.
Callie came to stand in front of her, close enough that Mae could see the smudges of tiredness under her eyes. She had the urge to kiss those dark patches.
‘Mae,’ Callie said, soft but very clear. ‘I am here this morning because I would like to ask you something.’
Mae held her breath.
Twenty-Four
