I bury my head in the sofa and curl my knees into my body, squeezing my eyes tight.
“Are you okay?” he softly asks.
“No, Callan.” I turn to face him, struggling to hold back tears. “I’m not okay. I’m not okay with what she did to you. What she did to Paige. She stole you from me. She stole our future, and while I was trying to pick up the shattered pieces of my heart, hating you for an abandonment and betrayal that never happened, you were suffering all alone. I don’t know how to handle all that.”
“Don’t cry, baby, please.”
“You can’t call me that,” I sob, clinging to the leather.
“I’m sorry. It’s too easy to slip with you.”
“Was there anyone else?” I rest my cheek on the couch as I face him, drying my tears. Gawd, I’m so sick of crying. I’ve been doing far too much of it lately.
“Never.” He rubs a hand along his stubbly jawline. “It was four years after I lost you before I even kissed another woman, and I hated it because she wasn’t you. Around that time, I was struggling again. We’d moved here, and while it was everything I’d wanted and I loved it, it felt empty without you. I spiraled again. Fell into a dark place. Started going out to Burly at weekends, having casual sex with nameless, faceless people. I was numb to it all, and the first time I was with someone, I couldn’t even get it up because I was all up in my head. So, I’d drink myself into a stupor and find some stranger to fuck. It meant nothing. It wasn’t even enjoyable. Dorian said it was my way of trying to take back control of my sexuality. I stopped doing it after three months because it wasn’t helping. I felt emptier inside, even more lonely. The only one I wanted was you, and if I couldn’t have you, then I was fine with being single and celibate.”
“Are you saying…”
“That I haven’t had sex in three, almost four, years? Then yeah.”
“I’m engaged to someone else.” It feels like the right time to say this because this conversation is veering into dangerous territory.
“I don’t need the reminder.” He stares up at the ceiling. “Trav never agreed with your parents. He has encouraged me these past few years to go find you again, but I left it too late.” His eyes probe mine. “So much for fucking fate.”
72
ASTRID
“Astrid, wake up.” Someone touches my face. “Astrid, you need to wake up. Seán is here.”
My eyes spring open, and I bolt upright. “What?” Seán’s supposed to be in Canada on business this weekend.
“I was woken by the buzzer at the front gate. Your fiancé threatened he’d break it down if I didn’t let him through.” He hands me my dress. “You better put that on ASAP.”
Tires spin on the gravel outside as I stare through the gap in the curtains, noting Seán’s enraged face when he jumps out of his car. “Too late. Oh fuck, he looks really angry.”
“I’ll handle him. Go get dressed.”
I hop up as Callan goes to answer the door. I’m halfway across the living room when an almighty crash sounds from the hallway. Dropping the dress, I race out of the room, terrified Seán is going to kill Callan.
“Stop!” I shriek when I arrive, finding Callan sprawled on his back on the hall floor. Blood is oozing from his nose, and his hands are bleeding where they’ve landed in the shattered pieces of a glass vase. Callan’s hall table is on its side, the contents scattered and broken. “This is not what it looks like,” I say,crouching beside Callan, taking care not to step in any of the glass.
“I’d say it’s exactly what it looks like.” Seán’s angry gaze roams over my bare legs and Callan’s T-shirt, jumping to conclusions that are wrong. His suit is crumpled, like he slept in it, his hair is askew, and there are bruising shadows under his eyes.
“I spilled water on my dress, and Callan gave me this to wear. I fell asleep on the couch, and I just woke up. Nothing happened.”
“Astrid is telling the truth,” Callan says, taking my offered arm as he scrambles to his feet. “She fell asleep while we were talking. I put a pillow under her head and covered her with a blanket before I went upstairs.” He winces, hobbling to one side, leaning against the wall as he removes a piece of glass from the underside of his foot. Straightening up, he glares at Seán. “All of which I would have explained if you hadn’t punched me the fucking second I opened the door.”
“You must think I’m an imbecile.”
“You are if you think Astrid would ever cheat,” Callan retorts.
“Shut your face.” He jabs his finger in Callan’s direction.
“Seán, stop it. Please. I can explain.”
“Oh, please do. I can’t wait to hear the reason why you’ve been in your ex’s house for the past fourteen hours and twelve minutes.”
I narrow my eyes in suspicion. “How did you know I was here?” I left my cell at home on purpose to avoid this very thing.
