“You’re adorable, you know that?”
She glared up at me.
I sighed theatrically.“If there’s turbulence, I promise I will return to my seat and put on mysafety belt.Will that do, Miss Winters?”
She pursed her lips.“I suppose.”
“Good.Why don’t you come sit on the couch with me?”I inclined my head toward the cinema room.
“There’s a couch?”
“Yep.And a TV.”
“You’re grossly rich, aren’t you?”She fumbled with her seatbelt and stood on unsteady legs.
“It’s a corporate jet—not mine personally.”
“Right, butcouldyoubuythe corporate jet?”
I bristled, suddenly tense.“Probably.Never really thought about it, to be honest.You trying to uncover my net worth, Miss Winters?”
“Oh, God.Sorry, that was so rude.I was just curious ifpeopleowned these kinds of planes, or only companies.Maybe it’s a dumb question, but the idea of that kind of money is kind of…unfathomable?It seems like a very abstract concept to me.”
I made to interject, but she kept going, rambling in a way that outdid every other instance of it I had witnessed to date.She kept gesticulating as she moved toward the cinema room.I wasn’t even sure she knew she was doing it.
“I’m sorry.I didn’t mean to pry into your personal finances.It’s really none of my business.If you want, I can show you my bank account balance.Call it even.Though I’d have to crawl under a rock afterward because it isshockinglylow.For someone with almost two business degrees, you’d think I’d be better with money, but I’m not.Where does it go, you ask?Isn’t that the million-dollar question?My guess is probably Target, though Amazon is a close second.This is my fatal flaw.It’s not even?—”
“Callie, take a breath.”I was grinning now, all tension I had felt from her question had vanished.
She stopped and turned to me, wringing her hands.“Sorry.I’m nervous.I tend to ramble when I’m nervous.I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but?—”
“I’ve noticed.”My chuckle morphed into a hoarse whisper as I stepped closer and grabbed one of her warring hands.“What are you nervous about, Cal?”
Her breath hitched, and she stared at our joined hands.I was about to lead her the rest of the way to the couch when her reply came quietly.
“I’m nervous about how right this feels.”
She squeezed my hand, and I squeezed back.I knew exactly what she meant.
Because I felt it, too.
* * *
“Tell me more about your mom.”
“What do you want to know?”
I shrugged.“Anything.Everything.”
Callie looked out the window.I imagined her filtering through the hundreds of memories that had shaped her into the woman she was.A powerhouse contained within a tiny body—the body now curled up on the leather couch next to me.Her legs were pulled underneath her, and she had draped a blanket across her lap.She looked comfortable, and it settled something inside of me to see her so at ease.
“When I was in sixth grade, I asked my mom if I could participate in Model United Nations.All my friends were doing it, and it seemed so cool.We would get to spend the weekend in a hotel and meet people from different schools.She just scoffed and asked me what for.She enrolled me in the Miss Teen Ohio beauty pageant instead.So, while my friends were presenting about apartheid, I was twirling a baton in front of hundreds of judgmental stage moms.I must have dropped that thing a dozen times.”
“You can twirl a baton?”
“No, Emmett, I can’t.That’s why I dropped it a hundred times.”
“You just said a dozen.Now I know you’re exaggerating.”
