“Good, good. I’ll have Amy email you an itinerary over in the next few days so you know where you’ll be going. If there are any specific places then let us know. Talk to you later.” He hung up. Obnoxious twat.
I sipped my latte. Considered my life. Wondered whether I was too young to have a mid-life crisis or whether that was what I’d been having since the age of twenty-two.
Whether it was directly related to Callum Callaghan.
* * *
I leftmy mother’s after Sunday lunch to navigate the ridiculous four connections I needed to get to Southwark, where Callum lived in some huge apartment with one wall that was just windows, looking out over the Thames.
There had been an internal war whether to suffer the commute from my mother’s for a few days until I could rent a room rather than ask Callum for a place to stay, but it was a stupid thing to consider. I did need a job sooner than I thought if filming was only going to take an additional three weeks and the zoo had told me that a full-time position was available.
This was me not being stubborn. This was me trying to act like a rational adult.
This was me totally not having feelings for the boy who’d been my friend.
I pressed the button to get into the building and was met by the concierge. If there could be something the polar opposite from my flat, then this was it. High rise and sculptured rather than constructed, the building was some form of architectural feat. I knew Callum had money, but he’d never flaunted it. This was swish and almost understated.
I was anticipated, it seemed, taken to the lift and helped with my luggage that was less than what I’d taken filming. An insurance claim was underway, not that there was much; I hadn’t even had a TV, so I’d get some money in to replace what I needed. That was all okay; but it wasn’t.
I was thirty-two and effectively homeless.
The lift came to a gentle stop on a floor with just two apartments. Callum’s was the one on the right, the hallway outside grey and sumptuous. I knocked at the door and heard footsteps, someone whistling, not Callum. The door opened and Seph stood there in grey sweatpants and no top.
“Wren!” His grin was wide and genuine. I wondered if Seph had ever been anything less than delighted to meet anyone.
“Hey. Thanks for having me.” I stepped into a big hug. A powerful one. I was pretty sure the man had clamps for arms.
“Callum’s place. He’s the one who okayed it. Let me take a bag – is this all you have?”
I nodded. “I’m not athingsperson. I generally travel light.” Both materialistically and emotionally it seemed.
“Cool. I’m like that. Maybe when I finally get my own place I’ll have more stuff.” He smiled, not in the least worried it seemed, about anything. I knew from Callum that for the most, Seph was chilled. But when he felt something like worry or anxiety, he plummeted.
I followed Seph through the apartment, noticing the views towards the Thames with St Paul’s in the distance. This apartment belonged to the city-boy Callum, the manwhore and player. Not the person I knew in Africa.
“This room – will it be okay? It’s got an en-suite so you don’t have to share with either of us. Not that either of us are that bad. Mum trained us well.” He put my bags down on the floor next to the wardrobe.
“How is your mum?”
He grinned again. “She’s doing really well. Tons better, even better than before the op. She spent the weekend fussing over everyone, especially Cal. He’s stayed for an extra day, by the way.”
“Oh.” He hadn’t told me. Not that he had to, I’d just assumed he’d be here.
“Nothing to worry about, he was just spending a bit more time with Dad, I think.” Seph shrugged. “Have you eaten? I was going to have a cheat meal and dial take-out.”
I was suddenly starving. “That sound fab. Are you sure you’re okay with me staying here?”
He nodded. “The more the merrier. It’s common knowledge I hate living alone. Chinese?” He was unapologetic, clearly accepting of this.
“Chinese sounds perfect.” It did. And it was something I hadn’t had for weeks.
* * *
Callum wasn’t backby the time the Chinese arrived, which made me worry about wasting food because Seph had ordered so much. We had soups, dim sums, three different meals, prawn crackers, pretty much one of everything from the menu, delivered by a guy who definitely knew Seph.
Two hours later, I realised that Seph hadn’t ordered any of this for his brother, he simply had a large appetite. We were sitting on the floor in the living room, surrounded by take-out trays and bottles of water to try to ease the impending dry mouth in the middle of the night syndrome from the salt in the food. We were binge watching some American sit-com and it felt as if I was back at college where real life hadn’t happened yet and being an adult was only something we pretended to do.
“So you and Callum…”
